Internship at White Night Group
The message from Seo Yu-ri arrived in the morning. [Sending the documents.] [Fill them out and send them back.] Just two short lines. No explanation. I read the screen once more. Seo Yu-ri was always like that. She left only what was necessary and let the other person catch up. It never felt like coercion. Rather, it was her way of not dragging out a problem whose answer was already decided.
I paused for a moment before replying. [What kind of documents are they?]
The answer came quickly. [Internship contract.] [There are too many restrictions for students to explore dungeons on their own.]
That single sentence was enough. Under Association and Academy regulations, student-only parties or parties made up entirely of students faced heavy restrictions on dungeon rank, frequency, and location. The rules grew even stricter during vacation periods. If an accident occurred, it would fall on the school, so the school tightened the regulations to avoid responsibility. But things changed when you belonged to a corporation. The chain of command became clear, and the range of accessible dungeons widened. Above all, corporations were the ones that officially permitted the word “live combat.”
[I’m going to join a White Night Group hunter team as an intern during the break.] [It’s the cleanest option.]
I stared at the screen and thought for a while. It was fast, but not strange. Skill proficiency could be raised through training, yet she had said training and live combat were different. To make that possible, I had to enter a dungeon, and to enter a dungeon I had to clear the regulations and procedures. Seo Yu-ri had already handled the procedures and simply handed me the conclusion.
[Understood.]
A file arrived shortly after. Contract, consent form, accident clause, intern identification certificate, safety training pledge. There were more than a few pages. The fact that a separate form existed for student interns meant there was precedent. Most cases, however, involved second-years or students nearing graduation. It was uncommon for a first-year to receive these documents.
I read through them one by one. Risk notices. Grade-based danger levels. A clause stating that field command belonged to the team leader and that interns could be immediately removed for failing to follow orders. The phrase “interns are not participants but are incorporated.” Dungeon accidents were listed not as exceptions but as possibilities. The language was dry, yet that dryness felt realistic. As I signed my name, I thought, This is real combat now.
After I filled out the forms and sent them, another message arrived a moment later. [One week from now.] [Come to White Night Group headquarters.] [I’ll send the time and location later.]
One week. She had given me more leeway than I expected. The fact that it wasn’t tomorrow felt realistic. Administrative procedures were required for the internship, and team assignments had to be made. That week would also give me time to prepare.
I set my phone down and stepped into the living room. Mother was folding laundry. It was the same sight as always, yet today the ordinary scene felt heavier. Because what I was about to do was not ordinary.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“During the break… I think I’ll be going on dungeon explorations as an intern at a company.”
Mother’s hands stopped. She slowly raised her head and looked at me.
“An internship all of a sudden?”
“Yes. With the White Night Group.”
The moment the name left my mouth, her eyes wavered for the briefest instant. Not quite surprise, but the tremor of recalling the weight that name carried. The logo she often saw on the news. The dungeon industry. Fatal accidents. And everything a large corporation could cover up.
Mother drew a slow breath. “They go to some dangerous places, from what I hear.”
I didn’t tell her it wouldn’t be dangerous. That would have been a lie.
“It’s an internship. They said we’d mainly handle C- to B-grade dungeons. And I won’t be alone—Academy seniors will be with me.”
Mother listened to the end, then gave a very small nod. It was hard to tell whether the nod meant agreement, resignation, or both.
“Still, be careful.”
“Yes.”
She asked nothing more. She never asked the same question twice. Mother had always respected my choices and my will. I accepted that weight as it was.
The week passed quickly. On the appointed day, I left the house early. When I caught a taxi and gave the destination, the driver nodded once at the mention of White Night Group headquarters. As the scenery flowed past the window, I organized a few things in my head. The role I had to play. What I could do. And what I still could not do. The trajectories in the training hall were predictable fluctuations. Live combat would bring unpredictable ones. Seeing a trajectory and matching it were different. If I did not acknowledge that difference, I would fall behind.
As White Night Group headquarters drew closer, a larger mass became visible among the city buildings. It was not merely tall; it radiated the density of an organization called “company.” People moved quickly, their paths efficient. Employees in suits gathered at the entrance, and through the gaps I saw people dragging equipment cases. I went through the entry procedures. Identity verification. Visitor pass issuance. My intern registration was already complete; my name was in the system. The guide checked my pass and nodded.
“I’ll escort you to the hunter operations zone.”
I stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed and the numbers rose, the tension I had felt in the taxi returned. This was not the tension of heading to an exam. It was not about how points would be scored, but about how I would survive.
When the elevator doors opened, the air was different. It was not the quiet air of an ordinary office, but air carrying a low, constant noise. Somewhere, metal clashed. Cases clicked shut. Short conversations about equipment checks. Footsteps in the corridor moved at a steady pace. This was not a training hall. Yet it smelled like one.
A small practice space was visible along one side of the corridor. Two hunters were matching simple movements on a narrow mat. They were not swinging swords wildly, but checking timing and distance, the angle of an incoming foot, the angle of a wrist. They repeated only the shortest motions. It looked less like building technique and more like confirming the minimum senses needed to avoid collapsing in real combat.
On the other side, an equipment staff member and a hunter were going over a checklist.
“Strap wear confirmed, and I’ve added spares.”
“Magazines?”
“Loaded to regulation count.”
The conversation felt strangely real. Dungeons were not treated as special events but as routine work.
I followed the guide to the end of the corridor. There, I met Seo Yu-ri. She was in casual clothes, but inside the company it looked natural.
“You’re here.”
“Yes, sunbae.”
“Follow me.”
As if the destination had already been decided, Seo Yu-ri walked straight ahead. Her pace was steady. She did not hurry, yet she was not slow either. She moved only as fast as necessary. That was Seo Yu-ri’s rhythm.
We stopped in front of an office. A sign was posted beside the door.
Hunter Team 3
Seo Yu-ri opened the door. Someone inside looked up and immediately came out.
“Oh? Miss Yu-ri.”
The voice was bright. Short hair, an active impression. A sword hung at her waist. Even her gait marked her as a frontline combat type. Thin scars ran across the back of her hand—marks she had not bothered to hide.
“It’s been a while. Doing another internship this break?”
“Yes.”
Seo Yu-ri answered calmly. “This time it’s not just me. Two of us.”
At those words, the woman’s gaze turned toward me.
“Ah, so this is the student?”
She smiled and held out her hand. “Choi Ha-rin, Hunter Team 3. Nice to meet you.”
“…Han Do-yoon. I look forward to working with you.”
The moment we shook hands, I felt strength in her grip. Not simply power, but controlled, consistent force. The hand of someone who had fought many battles. She released my hand and glanced over my face once more. A quick, assessing look that stayed just short of rude.
“You look thinner than I expected. But your eyes are fine. Plenty of kids’ eyes start shaking the moment they step into the field.”
I hesitated a moment before answering briefly. “…Thank you.”
Choi Ha-rin laughed. “Ah, our team isn’t stiff. Except for the team leader, of course.”
Her tone carried a joke, but not entirely. She gestured with her hand.
“Come on in. The team leader’s here, and Se-a and Jae-min too.”
Three more people were inside the office. The man seated at the farthest desk had a large frame and moved little. A spear leaned against the wall. The weapon alone was enough to identify him. Kang Do-hyun, leader of Hunter Team 3. He nodded once at Seo Yu-ri.
“You’ve arrived.”
Seo Yu-ri answered shortly. “Yes.”
Beside him sat the other two team members. One was a calm-looking woman reviewing something on a tablet. Her hands moved quickly, yet her expression never wavered. Neat hair, neatly organized equipment. She gave off the orderly air typical of support types.
She rose slightly from her seat first. “Yoon Se-a. I look forward to working with you.”
“…Han Do-yoon. I look forward to working with you.”
Yoon Se-a nodded once and returned her gaze to the tablet. The exchange was brief, but it did not feel dismissive.
The last person stood by the window, an arrow slung across his back. His eyes had been scanning outside until we entered, at which point he turned his head. He moved little, yet his gaze alone seemed to read the space.
“Park Jae-min.”
“…Han Do-yoon.”
Park Jae-min did not even reply with a “yes.” Choi Ha-rin nudged me lightly with her elbow.
“Jae-min’s always been shy. Once you get to know him, though, he’s fun.”
Park Jae-min glanced at Choi Ha-rin for the briefest moment. He said nothing, but the look alone carried the feeling of don’t say unnecessary things. Choi Ha-rin only laughed at the look.
“See? This is what I mean.”
Seo Yu-ri glanced around the office. Her expression said the space was familiar. She settled into it naturally. Team Leader Kang Do-hyun stood up.
“Since it’s your first day, I’ll start with the intern briefing.”
His voice was low and precise. No wasted words.
“For the duration of this break, the two of you will be incorporated into Hunter Team 3 as interns. I am Kang Do-hyun, leader of Hunter Team 3. As the team leader, I’ll be speaking casually from now on for convenience.”
He looked at Seo Yu-ri once, then at me.
“Miss Seo Yu-ri has worked with us a few times already.”
Seo Yu-ri nodded without a word.
“Do-yoon is new.”
“…Yes.”
Team Leader Kang Do-hyun showed no particular reaction to my answer. The question had only been for confirmation. No emotion mixed in.
“Being an intern does not mean you’re here to sightsee the field,” he said. “There are defined roles, and if you fail to fulfill them, you’re out.”
Choi Ha-rin whispered beside me, “The team leader’s always this stiff. But he’s only stiff in speech—he’s not a strange person.”
Kang Do-hyun continued. “The dungeons we’ll be exploring with the interns are mainly C- to B-grade.”
“Honestly, they’re low-grade by our team’s standards.”
“Because of that, having the entire team move would create issues with performance metrics, so the number of personnel for dungeon exploration will be adjusted.”
“I won’t be accompanying you. I’ll be operating separately on dispatch to another team.”
At that, Choi Ha-rin shrugged. “The team leader usually moves with us on higher-grade work, but for C- to B-grade… well, the three of us are enough.”
Her tone was light, but the content was accurate. Kang Do-hyun kept speaking.
“Only Ha-rin, Se-a, and Jae-min will go into the field.”
“Plus the two interns.”
His gaze returned to me.
“If each of you tells us your specialty or preferred position, I’ll consider it when assigning roles.”
Seo Yu-ri spoke first. “My position allows me to provide firepower support with long-range magic.”
“I primarily use a sword and can serve as a close-range dealer.”
Choi Ha-rin smiled. “Oh, the combination looks decent. Having a close-range fighter will make things easier for us too.”
Yoon Se-a spoke without taking her eyes off the tablet. “If we have a close-range fighter we’ve never coordinated with, our paths might overlap. We’ll need to know how skilled Do-yoon is.”
Her tone was quiet, yet calculation lay beneath it. Park Jae-min added a single line.
“There’s no time to coordinate verbally in actual combat.”
Team Leader Kang Do-hyun nodded. He spoke one last time.
“The field is not school.”
I felt that those words meant more than simply steeling oneself. This place did not end with scores. Results translated directly into gains and losses. And before gains and losses came life and death.
Kang Do-hyun added, “The first dungeon hasn’t been decided yet.”
“Once it’s confirmed, I’ll notify you. Until then, make sure you’re properly prepared.”
With that, the briefing ended. But Choi Ha-rin’s expression said the briefing was not truly over. Rather, it looked as though things were only beginning now.
“Ah, Do-yoon? I’ll just call you that. No need to be too nervous just because you’re an intern. But don’t take it too lightly either.”
The words sounded contradictory, yet that balance mattered in live combat.
“Miss Yu-ri has moved with us a few times every break,” Choi Ha-rin said, pointing at Seo Yu-ri. “So we know her style. It’s a terrifying one.”
Seo Yu-ri glanced at Choi Ha-rin once.
“Anyway, Do-yoon’s new to us and probably new to dungeons too. Don’t worry too much. Let’s match our pace slowly but surely.”
Choi Ha-rin smiled. Yoon Se-a finally set her tablet down.
“Do-yoon, how skilled are you at school?”
The question was cautious. Neither dismissive nor merely curious. It was closer to checking for risk factors.
“…I received a C-grade on the final evaluation.”
Yoon Se-a nodded. “Then there will be a lot you’re lacking in a dungeon.”
The statement was precise. Park Jae-min turned his gaze to me.
“If you don’t know something in a dungeon, say you don’t know. Plenty of kids get hurt pretending they do.”
His tone was dry, yet that dryness sounded like a warning. I nodded.
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
Seo Yu-ri spoke beside me. “You’re good at this sort of thing. Just don’t be stubborn.”
It was ambiguous whether the words were praise or a warning. She spoke only facts, without emotion. That made them more unsettling.
Choi Ha-rin glanced at my shoulder and said, “But really, your speech is very proper for a student. Most people who come here put on airs and then get broken.”
“…I don’t have the luxury for that.”
Choi Ha-rin laughed at my answer. “Good. That’s the best way to survive the longest.”
The words were tossed lightly, yet they lingered with unexpected weight. I looked around the office once more. A team deployment schedule was posted on the wall. Personal lockers lined one side. Equipment cases were neatly arranged, and an emergency medical kit sat on a small table. Though it was a company team office, it also carried the feel of a military barracks.
Seo Yu-ri looked at me. “That’s enough for today.”
“I’ll contact you as soon as the first dungeon is set.”
“Yes, sunbae.”
As I left the office, I felt it again. This was not a training hall. It was not an evaluation. This was a space belonging to people who treated dungeons as work. And now I stood at the threshold of that work. I had thought I was prepared, yet standing before the door made one thing clear. Preparation was only the beginning. The dungeon came after.