Hunter Aspirant
The 2022 Olympics.
The finals of the non-awakened rifle shooting event.
With countless spectators watching, a showdown unfolded for the gold medal in Olympic non-awakened rifle shooting.
Easy… I can't mess this up.
The final round. The final turn. If I hit an X-ten here, I would win by a razor-thin margin of 0.1 points.
Maybe it was the earplugs. My heartbeat sounded clearer than usual. Korean fans and the opposing crowd alike held their breath, every pair of eyes locked on my last shot.
Bang—!
I pulled the final trigger with everything I had.
The result?
"Wooooah!!!!"
Why even ask? Obviously a 10.9. The so-called X-ten. I put a gold medal in the proud hands of the Republic of Korea.
"Good game."
The opponent who would be taking silver thanks to my flawless shooting didn't resent me at all — he praised me instead.
"Good game."
No reason not to return the compliment. We swapped socials and chatted for a bit until the awards ceremony began.
"Mr. Do Jinwoo! You seized a miraculous victory by 0.1 points — any words for us?"
A forest of microphones and endless camera flashes. I bit down on the gold medal and threw a V-sign at the lenses.
"Guns are magnificent. The pinnacle of science. Everyone, worship the gun. Revere it. Praise it!"
Everyone stared at me like I'd lost my mind, but nobody complained. I'd personally added another gold medal for Korea — what more did they want from me?
The end of my teens. My first Olympics. No matter what anyone said, the close of my beautiful teenage years was nothing short of spectacular.
My job might have been professional shooter, but a high schooler is still a high schooler. I was still the age that had to sit through classes.
I'd asked if I could drop out, but…
Mom, can I just quit school? It's not like I can go on a shooting spree in class.
Have you lost your mind? The day you bring home a withdrawal form is the day we set up your memorial altar — remember that!
Tch… What's so wrong with dropping out? I had a monthly pension coming in. After retiring as an athlete, I could shoot as a hobby and work as a coach. Easy.
I resented Mom, but there was no universe where I beat the undisputed number one of the Do household. So I shut up and went to school — and my school outfit was extremely simple.
I'd built a wall between myself and studying ages ago, so a backpack? Why strap on something that just gets in the way? My daily routine was showing up in a half-assed school uniform and nothing else.
The student affairs teacher was watching the front gate like a hawk, but—
"Morning, Teach."
"For crying out loud! At least carry a bag, you brat!"
A light scolding, and that was it. No real hassle. The teacher who had quietly looked the other way even when I was on the national team went full hands-off the moment I brought home gold. Thanks to that, I was coasting through the last few months of high school in peace.
It was a self-study period, the kind that always made me drowsy. I was nodding off when it happened.
"I can't believe you kids will be adults in just a few months! So, everyone — what's your dream?"
At the math teacher's question, every single person except me answered in perfect unison, as if they'd rehearsed it.
"Hunter!!"
Hunter. A profession dedicated to climbing the Tower that loomed outside the window.
I genuinely couldn't understand my friends. What was the point of climbing the Tower? It had never once directly harmed humanity. If anything, it had helped us. And yet they wanted a job where you could die in a heartbeat — a career where the highs were sky-high and the lows were absolutely miserable.
If you love climbing so much, take your parents hiking sometime. Kids who hate hiking all of a sudden want to scale the Tower? Yeah, right.
Not that I ever thought my friends were bad people. They were lively, kind, and treated someone as different as me like a normal friend. I just wanted them to value their lives — that was all.
A hazy memory surfaced: something our history teacher had said about the Tower. That it was old enough to appear in the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty. That humanity lived in a symbiotic relationship with it. That sort of thing.
The Tower had given us so much. Magic stones with efficiency rivaling nuclear power plants. Materials far harder than steel. Items that made you stronger just by wearing them. Supposedly it handed out the same kind of rewards even back in Joseon times, but every scientist guessed that limited technology had kept people from properly using what came out of the Tower.
In exchange, the Tower had taken countless lives.
Money? Sure, it mattered. Being born human meant liking money was only natural. Fame? That mattered too. The feeling of everyone lifting you up — that rush was almost unbearable.
But…
If you lose your life, that's it. Over. No matter how much money you pile up, no matter how many people look up to you — once you're dead, what does any of it become? Just a name stuffed into a history book, and that's the end.
Or maybe not even that. There were so many Hunters these days.
I wasn't going to become a Hunter anyway. Why was I thinking so hard about this?
Just sleep.
It had nothing to do with me. A story from another world.
The winter that had piled snow high outside melted away, and late winter arrived — February.
"Congratulations on graduating, son~"
"Our gold medalist! Finally graduating!"
Graduation day had come.
"Thanks, Mom. Dad."
My parents handed me a lavish bouquet and looked somehow more excited than I was.
"What are we standing around for? Pictures! We need pictures!"
"Excuse me, could you take a photo of us? Oh! Thank you so much!"
In the family photo, we looked perfect. Our bank account was stuffed, the pension came in like clockwork. A life nobody needed to envy.
Or so I'd believed…
That happiness didn't last long.
My body had been trembling badly lately, so I went to the hospital. Waiting for me was a diagnosis no athlete ever wants to hear — a bolt from the blue.
"It's dystonia."
The doctor explained that dystonia was a condition where the muscles contracted involuntarily during specific movements. Permanently.
"Th-then Jinwoo's athletic career…?"
The doctor gave a bitter smile and shook his head again and again.
"He could continue competing, but… his skill would fall short of even an amateur, let alone the national team."
For a competitive shooter, it was a death sentence.
I was devastated too — but no one took it harder than Mom.
"What do we do… What do we do about our son…"
"Mom, don't worry. There are plenty of ways to make money, right?"
I forced back the tears rising in my eyes and tried to comfort her.
"But… Jinwoo loves shooting so much…!"
She was right.
On my seventh birthday, I'd gotten a toy gun that didn't even fire real bullets — and I'd been over the moon. Cool, powerful, that kick every time you pulled the trigger… it was a thrill beyond words. I couldn't forget that feeling. From fifth grade until the day this incurable disease showed up, how much blood and sweat had I poured into practice just to become a pro?
Ah… I was trying not to cry. Trying to keep some dignity as the proud son…
"Hic… Mom, what am I supposed to do…"
Looking back on the path I'd walked, the tears wouldn't stop. It felt like my entire life was being denied.
We clung to each other and cried for a long time. Then—
"What about… becoming a Hunter?"
The doctor's words pierced straight through my brain.
"If I become a Hunter… can I shoot a gun?"
"At the very least, the possibility isn't zero."
Something I'd seen online flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern. The first gateway to becoming a Hunter: the mental image check. Somehow — with technology I didn't understand — it externalized a weapon and skills shaped from a person's inner self. That was the Hunter aptitude test.
I'd spent my whole life shooting guns. If I became a Hunter, it meant I could keep shooting — keep living that electrifying life.
I'd sworn I'd never touch anything as dangerous as being a Hunter…
If it means I can shoot again.
This life of mine? I'd throw it away a hundred times. Even if it meant making a deal with the devil, I wouldn't hesitate.
Why? Because I love guns.
People might laugh and call me an idiot, but not me. Not for this.
"I'll do it. I'll become a Hunter."
Once a professional shooter, I became the very thing I'd always avoided — a Hunter aspirant.
One week had passed since I decided to become a Hunter aspirant.
Calling myself a "Hunter aspirant" was almost funny — honestly, anyone could become a Hunter. The only catch was that booking a Hunter aptitude test was as hellish as university course registration.
And me, Do Jinwoo? I successfully locked in a reservation on day one of making that decision, thank you very much.
Today was the day of the hard-won aptitude test. According to the posts I'd found online, if you were even five minutes late, they refused to test you — no exceptions. The forums were full of those horror stories.
"Me, the guy who shows up late to school like it's a habit, actually putting in effort… Teach would cry if he saw this."
Which was why, even with a full hour left before my appointment, I was already ready to head out. The news that I'd retired as an athlete had broken as a special report, and public sentiment was running wild — so I threw on a black cap and a black mask for good measure. I looked like I was about to commit a crime.
"Let's get this over with and wreck some Battle Around."
The finishing touch: brand-new shoes I'd just bought. Perfect.
"Mom, I'm heading out."
"Have a good trip~!"
The same mom who'd bawled her eyes out at the hospital over the mere possibility that I might shoot again was back to the mom I knew. And hey — good things are good things, right?
While I was becoming a Hunter, I'd make a pile of money, buy her a house, get her a foreign car, and stuff her wallet with pocket money. That was how you became a real filial son.
Aiming for the national team had cost an absolute fortune. If the money I brought in was a hundred, sixty of it went right back into me. Just when I thought I could finally start paying my own way, who could've guessed an incurable disease would hit?
Hardworking prodigies like me weren't exactly common. I figured I'd make a name for myself in the Hunter world too. Thinking that, I walked — and before I knew it, I'd arrived at the Hunter Association Headquarters.
I checked my watch in a hurry. About ten minutes left until the test.
"…I got here way too early."
Still, hoping I might get seen sooner, I stepped inside the Hunter Association.
"Welcome. How may I help you?"
A staff member in a crisp uniform, standing guard over the Association.
"I have a Hunter aptitude test booked for today. When can I take it?"
"May I have your name? If I can confirm it, I'll assist you right away."
Should I say it? Should I not? No — I had to give my name, but…
He's not going to recognize me, right?
"Do Jinwoo."
"Yes, Do Jinwoo… Wait. Gold medalist Do Jinwoo?!"
Yeah. He'd recognized me.