Forced into the Rank Promotion Exam
A month had passed. Naturally, the world carried on without any major incidents. During that time, I busied myself adapting to this transformed reality—moving into a studio apartment and drilling the "common sense" of second-gen hunters into my body. I still hadn't fully adjusted, though. Thanks to requests suited for status window vegans like me, my money troubles were mostly sorted out. The downside? Nationwide travel was par for the course.
"Jeonju today, huh. Maybe snag some kongnamul gukbap before heading home?"
With a flash, I checked the request details and leaped toward my usual mountain peak. Treating the sparsely populated range like a highway, bounding along on foot—it was the epitome of quick service.
I'd heard there were designated zones for hunters with mobility skills, but at F-rank speeds, you'd be slower than a train, so I just zipped around on the down-low. Not the best-kept secret, but I'd cross that bridge if busted. Public servants didn't have eyes everywhere like that.
Before long, I reached a wild hill on the outskirts of Jeonju city proper.
Glancing at my smartphone, it'd taken about thirty minutes from departure. Saving cash and time—couldn't beat it.
"Gonna have to be more careful, though."
I brushed off the leaves clinging to my hair and clothes, then descended the mountain at a leisurely pace.
"Welcome! Hunter Association. Oh, Ha-yoon! Come on in!"
"I'm here to pick up the request I reserved through the app."
"Knew it had to be you who booked it."
The daytime guide, now familiar after a few visits, greeted me warmly. She'd latched onto me from day one, insisting we get close.
"The request you reserved—participating in construction outside Jeonju Gate 1, right?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"All registered~. But seriously, Ha-yoon, forget this stuff—go be an SNS influencer or stream. You'd rake in way more."
"Not my style to put myself out there."
"Such a shame. Take off those sunglasses and mask, and you'd pass for a celeb!"
I barely shook off her near-evangelical sales pitch and made it to the site.
Influencer? Streaming? What's the appeal in letting strangers judge you? Ew, gives me the creeps.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Watch for debris. Stay back."
Every swing of my fist shaved off chunks of rock, leaving deep craters.
Something about building a taxpayer-funded hunter experience center near gates? Like you can just decide to become a hunter.
Might just crush kids' dreams for nothing, but not my problem.
Anyway, the higher-ups' schemes always looked fishy from a commoner's view, so I stopped thinking and focused on the job.
"Hunter! Wrap up early today and help out here a bit?"
"We'll see."
Today's task: Tunnel through rock.
Wait, isn't this what a rock drill's for? Yeah, I thought that too.
But not in this era.
The Association didn't let idle young hunters—who hated gates but loved cash—sit around. They slotted them into construction gigs like this, pocketing fees from companies in so-called "no-gate requests."
Overworking hunters? Whatever. Everyone's just chasing money.
For low-rank bracelet fakers like me, this was basically it anyway.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
I wrapped mana around my waist, arms, and fists, striking smartly.
"How's a delicate thing like her smashing all that? F-rank?"
"You don't know? Body Enhancement skill, but can't use status window."
"Aigoo."
Even whispers carried to me clearly.
Having pointlessly sharp physical senses meant distant chatter pricked my ears when I let it—annoying at times like this.
One hour'll do it.
With three hours required, I'd need to throttle output to twenty percent to finish right.
"Still no quota system for early quit?"
I tuned out the murmurs like background radio, dragging out weak hits slowly.
Time crawled like molasses.
"No more F-rank requests starting tomorrow?"
"Yes. Congratulations, Ha-yoon. You're eligible for the promotion exam."
"Promotion exam?"
I'd heard that, excluding private gigs, hitting a quota of rank-appropriate requests qualified you for promotion.
Probably pushing me to E-rank now.
"Uh... not really keen on promoting. Gotta do it?"
Lazy. Way too lazy. Already out-earning excavator operators—what's more cash gonna do?
"You can skip, but no more Association-guaranteed requests."
What's the difference from mandatory?
Private day labor? Hard pass. Tried once for lack of options—ugh, those ajusshi vibes...
"...Please register me for promotion."
"Seoul venue?"
"Tomorrow afternoon work?"
"Please. House is closer that way."
People just can't stand seeing you live easy. This damn country's psychos.
"Packed house again today."
At the Hunter Association Gwanak Branch promotion exam hall, Kang Tae-ho rubbed his tired eyes and scanned the monitor. Three hundred E-rank promotion candidates.
Grown numb to kids' talent shows, he found time dragging lately—but with ulterior motives, it was tolerable.
"Let's see... special notes? Status window unusable due to purpose?"
Kang Tae-ho's gaze lingered on "Lee Ha-yoon." Twenty-three-year-old F-rank hunter, fresh off licensing last month.
"Body Enhancement specialty got her here fast... rough road ahead, kid."
He scowled. Self-sealers could always back out—no issue. But status-blocked cases? Textbook stagnation and early retirement.
"Two ninety-nine to judge."
Tablet in hand, he headed to the training ground.
The doors slid open, drawing all eyes from the assembled hunters.
He savored it—a pathetic superiority rush, B-rank or not, as the top dog here.
"Welcome to the promotion exam. I'm proctor Kang Tae-ho."
Clap clap clap clap clap clap.
"Before we start, note the Association films and stores footage. Anyone objecting, leave now."
No takers for the formality.
"Exam begins. Psychological test, then ability measurement. You there, back row?"
"Yes?"
"No masks, hats, or sunglasses during testing. Some try proxy rank-ups."
Not some celeb, why's an F-rank bundled up like that?
"Hoo."
The hunter sighed at his words but complied without fuss or refusal.
The moment she doffed hat, mask, and shades...
"Whoa..."
"Damn..."
"Nice..."
Every hunter eyeing her gaped. An unexpected beauty emerged.
He wasn't immune—nearly got meme'd online as the proctor ogling a candidate.
"Good?"
"Uh, y-yeah. Thanks for cooperating."
She nodded, bowing slightly. As candidate chatter swelled, Kang Tae-ho spoke up.
"All here for combat tracks, so straight to ability measurement."
At his gesture, targets and sandbags rose from the floor.
"Ranged left, melee right, please."
Hunters split accordingly. His mark: three ranged, five melee.
Who's easiest pickings today? That one from just now would be perfect.
F-to-E failures got proctor coaching and retests.
Kang Tae-ho exploited it for "coaching" touches on appealing women. No guilt—he never crossed lines, and they all passed.
"Ranged first."
Targets drifted slowly; lined-up hunters struck in turn.
Regrettably, his three picks hailed from solid families—coaching regretfully nixed.
"Melee next, one by one."
Sandbags set to stage one: bell rang on sufficient single-hit damage.
"Ring the bell in one minute: pass. Go."
Sloppy marksmanship gave way to feeble sandbag whacks. Sadly, his four melee targets were untouchables too.
"Last: Hunter Lee Ha-yoon."
"Yes."
Status noob, huh? Jackpot today.
Background-less twenty-three-year-old half-baked hunter.
Grateful for prey he could handle solo, he cranked the sandbag to max without hesitation.
Cut at two or three, but Body Enhancement's no joke.
Even he'd struggle in a minute at that level.
With F pre-entered for her, he watched.
Ha-yoon tilted her head at the bag, inspecting it closely.
"Start whenever."
"Excuse me."
Ignoring his rush to psych tests, she questioned anyway.
"Seems different from when the others hit it."
"Impossible. No changes."
"Really? Okay then."
She returned to position.
Anticipating her flop and legal "correction," his lips curled.
But then—
Bam! Ding ding ding!
Her fist, swung at normal speed, slammed the bag—a roar, then the pass bell.
Wh-what!?
Panicking, he checked the options. Maxed, as set.
"Proctor."
In his confusion, Ha-yoon approached.
"Settings unchanged, like you said. Must've been my mistake."
She smiled. Her eyes didn't.