If Only I'd Been Born 10 Years Later
15 years since the first gate opened in the world. After countless events, the modern era had stabilized.
If only I'd been born 10 years later, how beautiful this world would look to me right now.
"Mr. Park Min-su, unfortunately, further medical support is no longer possible."
A death sentence from the doctor's mouth.
"So, from now on, I have to shell out 30 million won every rehab session?"
He started to speak but clamped his mouth shut again. That brief hesitation let me guess what was coming next.
"You saved the world, and yet... I'm truly sorry. It's because of the Association's budget cuts...."
The young attending physician hung his head, fists clenched. He hesitated a moment, then pulled out a few pill bottles and offered them to me.
"These should help when the pain gets bad."
Probably smuggled them out. Nothing short of heavy-duty stuff could touch the agony of burned mana circuits.
Thanks to him, the rage surging to the top of my skull fizzled out. All the steam escaped at once.
"...Thanks for everything."
I shoved the doctor's final act of kindness into my pocket and walked out of the hospital.
It was raining outside. The sight of citizens bustling about under their colorful umbrellas never failed to feel alien, no matter how many times I saw it.
The people I'd fought tooth and nail to give this peace to—they were gone from the world now.
'Kyaaah!' 'Don't come near me, Woo-jin! Sob, my body's melting, aaah!'
The first gate break in Daegu. What emerged first from the gate wasn't a monster horde, it was the rain from inside.
Families and friends vanished in the sudden catastrophe.
And me, left all alone, unscathed.
Crackle.
PTSD and the mana I'd suppressed for so long burning through my circuits. A sensation like my guts being clutched, stretched, and pummeled.
I fumbled open the pill bottle and crammed a few tablets into my mouth.
True to its narcotic punch, the ripping pain began to ebb away.
'At best, two weeks.'
The moment the pain receded, my mind calculated how many days the remaining pills would last. Ten years as a has-been, and my brain still hadn't fully drained of its sharpness in spots like this.
Once I could move again, I trudged slowly through the rain toward my studio apartment.
Beep!
"'1st-gen'—there's only three of us left in Korea. How much could it even cost?"
I lay on the bed and switched off the TV.
Excessive welfare, excessive welfare. If keeping a barely breathing corpse was a waste, then sure, it fit.
The Grand Canyon Gate rampage, where the world's fate hung in the balance.
95% of hunters died there.
The surviving 5% all succumbed to aftereffects and suicide. Correction, almost all to suicide.
The first couple made headlines everywhere. Celebrity suicides were great clickbait.
But as the numbers climbed, it became a crisis.
People started panicking, saying the gate crisis wasn't over.
The world chose the 99.9% of citizens over the 0.1% has-beens. Korea would have too.
The world was still too scarred to accept the tragedy of its heroes.
"Banning all mentions of us across the internet and news? That was a masterstroke."
Now, even if the Grand Canyon Gate incident vanished from textbooks, no one would complain.
Just 10 years after saving the world from annihilation, I—we—had been forgotten.
I couldn't say I didn't get it. If sacrificing a few could sustain the system for the many, even I'd lean that way.
"I get it. I get it all."
But being in that 0.1% myself made it damn hard to swallow.
Even if you erase us, couldn't you at least treat us with basic respect for saving your asses?
Just let us breathe easy until we close our eyes— was that so much to ask?
When every breath shredded my mana circuits.
When closing my eyes brought that day's memories crashing back in vivid detail.
When the monthly million-won handout couldn't even cover three days' meds.
"Two weeks."
I pulled out the pill bottles the doctor had given me.
Once these ran dry, I'd writhe in agony until some 30-year-old loner rotted away in his studio and got found one day.
"I'm dying anyway. Might as well splurge at the end, right?"
I dumped every last pill from the bottles into my mouth.
The pain that stabbed with every breath faded, and soon the ceiling bloomed in a rainbow haze.
"Sh, shit... way better than I thought...."
My head spun, vision swirled. An omnipotence I hadn't felt in 10 years coursed through me.
Ahh, Felix. So that's why you went out on drugs.
"Hehe... hahaha...."
Laughter bubbled up. Everything felt so damn good. The blood-soaked day, the painful memories lodged in my skull, they were all gone.
And soon, with no pain left, sleepiness crashed over me.
It sucked that this nap would be my last of this life.
I barely managed to smash my face into the pillow, sprawled out, and closed my eyes.
As consciousness faded, I made a final wish, figuring it was the end.
'Next life, give me mana circuits that can handle the output without melting.'
So they wouldn't burn out from overload.
'And make me handsome.'
So looks alone would keep me from fading into oblivion.
"Just make me fuckin' OP...."
So I wouldn't lose anything more from lack of power.
With that final thought, I blacked out.
"Ahh, the same old ceiling."
The afterlife's scenery was surprisingly just like my studio.
Nah, I probably just failed to die.
"Still, haven't slept that soundly in ages."
I checked my smartphone: exactly 12 hours later, 7 a.m.
Chugged three bottles of narcotic painkillers, and I still woke up the next day? Blessed body, indeed.
"Kinda feel bad for the doc, though."
He'd probably freak if he knew. Gave me two weeks' worth to survive, and I used it as suicide pills.
Anyway, the deep sleep left me brimming with energy.
Probably just lingering drug effects, but hell, it was the best I'd felt in years.
"But why's it so stuffy since earlier...?"
Like, my chest felt insanely heavy. Like two water balloons strapped on.
To figure out the weirdness, I looked down.
And beheld a T-shirt stretched to bursting, two masses of flesh straining inside.
"Still groggy from the meds, or a side effect?"
I pinched both cheeks hard with my fingers.
With strength barely at elementary school level, perfect for a reality check on whether this was a dream....
"Eeeeeek!"
The cheek-ripping pain made me let go.
What the hell happened? I switched my phone to selfie camera.
The screen showed familiar wallpaper—and an unfamiliar face.
Where'd the ragged, unshaven wreck from yesterday go? In his place sat a long-haired beauty.
But that wasn't the point.
Mana circuits packed at near-impossible density, centered on the chest.
"Big tits don't make big mana circuits, but this case...."
This capacity was insane—fifty peak Park Min-sus couldn't match it. Chest aside, the mana circuits.
No clue what had happened to me.
Awakened from mixing drugs? Then rich kids and Harlem alleys would've been crawling with them.
"Fuck if I know."
I shoved unanswerable thoughts aside and headed to the bathroom.
Hell, I'd escaped dying in agony—becoming a woman was no big deal.
I cranked the lever, and perfectly warm shower water poured out.
Whoosh.
The warm water hitting new parts felt oddly awkward.
"Never got to use it before it was gone, huh."
...The now-absent emptiness below, too.
No point clinging if I couldn't use it anyway.
After showering, I didn't flop back into bed—instead, I geared up to head out.
"Only skill I know is stealing. Nothing else comes to mind."
Destination: Hunter Association.
Get measured, register as a hunter again, back to work.
Honestly, after 10 years of nothing but pain, I had no clue what else I could do besides hunter gigs.
"Might as well cash in that one wish, right?"
Revenge? No idea who was behind making the world forget us anyway.
I just wanted to live free, enjoy the peace everyone else took for granted—except now me too. I stuffed the cash hoard from home into my bag. If things went well, no more stacking bills.
"Clothes later."
No bra, just a thick tee barely containing things, topped with an oversized hoodie—finally, out the door.
"Welcome to the Hunter Association! How can I assist you?"
"I'd like to register as a hunter."
"Could you fill this out and wait a moment?"
"Sure."
The friendly desk attendant handed over two sheets of paper.
Sitting down, I checked: one ID application form, one ability record sheet.
"Guess I'm not the only one like this."
The recommended items demanded proof of prior identity.
No intent to reveal my old one, so I improvised essentials on the spot.
Name:Lee Ha-yoon
Age:23
[Please write exactly what's shown in your Status Window.]
'The problem's this one.'
I don't have one of those.