Don't Get Too Friendly with Hunters [Shall We Try a Magic Scroll?]
That idea to try a magic scroll had come from me first.
Recalling our chat, I scanned the training room.
A pristine white space with a severed pig's head plopped right in the middle.
Next to it, a red basin brimming with human blood.
It was the tub we used for the neighborhood aunties' kimchi-making sessions every winter. Talk about irony.
This setup's plenty bizarre.
Satisfied, I stepped up to the basin.
Pulled a pocket knife from my pocket and lightly sliced my forearm.
"Ugh."
A short groan, and a single drop of blood fell into the basin.
"Perfect. From now on, this is my blood."
That was the crux: scrolls needed a sorcerer's blood.
But drawing enough to paint all these sheets? I'd bleed out first.
So, one drop it was.
If a snack with 0.00019% lobster extract gets called "lobster snack," this counts.
Lame logic, maybe, but I trusted it.
Hell, I'd sealed the deal with the outer god using MSG instead of real salt.
Plus, if this flops, we're screwed anyway.
Back to the wall—no retreat.
To take down a B-rank disaster, you needed that "fail and plummet to your death" mindset.
"Ahem."
I cleared my throat, sat cross-legged dead center, and laid out fresh sheets of paper. Dipped the brush in the blood-filled basin.
A world detached from reality. I got the vibe.
Fiddled with my phone, queued up the offline-saved top idol girl group track from some music site.
"The one I loved was you all along~."
"Maharada banda-banda shim-kyung…."
I opened my mouth, roughly mimicking the mumbling chant from some monk I'd seen on the news once.
And finally.
Invisible Hand, grab that pig head and spin it in mid-air.
My auxiliary arm—affectionately nicknamed—sprang to action.
Whoosh—whoosh—.
The severed head whirled wildly through the air, spraying pork funk everywhere.
This has to work. Even I think it's fucking grotesque.
Recalling the sensation from my first successful spell, I gripped the brush and began drawing a star shape.
I infused mana into the blood. And dragged up the emotion.
Killing intent, huh… someone I want dead.
I'm not one for emotional swings.
I stay cool, tackle problems head-on.
But I was already on edge, and once the dam broke, all the suppressed resentment I'd bottled up exploded out.
The day my A-rank hunter parents vanished in the Tower overnight.
When the government seized every asset during the death processing.
When my life plunged from a Seoul Han River-view apartment to Incheon orphanage.
Fucking Republic of Korea government pieces of shit….
Memories were hazy from being so young, but revisiting them surged an indescribable rage.
Denied rescue? I'm future A-rank material—got the balls to say that? Think you can handle me if I survive this?
Contracted the grimoire.
Burned my arm on the gas stove.
Killed that passerby (rapist).
What the hell do you politicians even do? If you're just gonna toss us citizens aside as worthless, why squeeze my taxes?
That dogshit income tax. Health insurance. General contributions.
You loot us promising pensions, but look at this country—think we'll actually get shit? Confident you'll be on the map in 50 years?
Old folks nitpicking nonexistent welfare. Endless Friday drinking sessions.
And orphanage days. The first time anyone celebrated my birthday.
Only for all the good snacks to go to next-class Heo Eun-jin's crew.
You all better pray I fail.
Pray I die here.
Except Eun-jin.
She was an idol now, I heard.
Pretty girl. Fair enough.
"Hoo…."
★
In twenty-five years of life, I'd relived every bitter memory as the brush dotted the final stroke.
A star pattern, brimming with fresh red blood.
The first scroll was complete. The massive mana drain told me so.
2nd Tier Fire Magic: 3/50
Success.
The grimoire even acknowledged it as spell use—progress ticked up by one.
Right on plan.
Phase 1 Goal: Complete 48 magic scrolls in five days.
While holding peak condition to hit 3rd tier.
Short on mana?
Top it off with elixirs.
Cracked open one mana restorative from the supply room.
※ Caution: Excessive consumption may cause blue skin tinting and lead to mana poisoning.
Side effects dangerous for normies? Not my problem.
Fuck, I'm a mage!!
Mana poisoning won't kill me.
Worst case, my grimoire buddy patches me up.
Mana surged inside me the instant I downed it.
Worth every penny.
Good for you, but rare and pricey—never buy 'em myself.
Gov cash? Time to gorge.
My tiny rebellion.
"Maharada bada-bada shim-kyung…."
On to the second scroll.
"I'll keep handling meals for Hunter Baek Seo-hu from now on," Lee Ye-ji said.
The team leader nodded.
"Newbie's got good instincts? Fine by us. Hunters scare the shit out of us. Best not get too chummy, Ye-ji. Anyway, they'll probably fail and die."
"Noted."
Like I'd want to.
Lee Ye-ji swallowed her rising irritation.
He's sticking around to save our asses.
Anyone with half a brain could see it.
Baek Seo-hu's skills? He could've bolted solo easy.
That's how you repay someone showing responsibility? Backstabbing gossip?
The ugliest part: deep down, they wanted him to succeed.
Acting cool and mocking failure to feel superior?
Just admit you wanna live, for once.
The office buzzed with energy now.
Civil service gigs were brutal to land amid job drought.
But daily meetings, work level—it just piled on self-loathing.
"Lots of meat, please, ma'am. Thank you."
Grabbed a heaping tray from the cafeteria, headed to the basement training room.
Two days since Baek vanished.
She'd respected the "no entry" rule, but worry crept in.
Sunbae, you okay?
All she could do: leave meals and bail.
But.
Wait, still there?
Last night's tray sat untouched, same spot.
At first, figured no appetite. But this?
He collapsed?!
Imagination ran wild: late awakening, heroic drive to save everyone, overtrained into disaster.
— DO NOT OPEN.
Her hand froze on the knob.
Just a peek. Quick peek.
Cracked the obscured window. The sight:
"Heeheeheeheehee."
A grotesque cackle clashing with a sweet love ballad.
White walls splattered in human blood.
Strange script never seen before.
Twenty-five sheets etched with black stars floating mid-air. Center: halved pig head bobbing like it was dancing.
Below it, Baek Seo-hu looked even more unhinged.
Blue veins pulsing on his face. Unwashed, greasy hair spiking skyward like struck by lightning.
Dark circles dragging down like he hadn't slept in ages. Eyes fluttering.
Each blink, his left hand whipped his own cheek.
To stay awake.
Star complete, wind gusts it aloft; new sheet fills in.
The brush never paused. Not once.
Not even chugging elixir—lid popped solo, poured straight in.
Like an unseen extra arm.
What the hell. Impossible.
Lee Ye-ji reeled.
Felt like dreaming wide awake.
This guy just a basic fire hunter?
Elixirs more than halved already.
That much in two days? He'll die!
Middle school basics: elixirs tax your mind huge. Awakeners beware, always with backup.
Popped veins screaming mana poisoning and reflux. That manic laughter? Psychotic break, probably….
Glancing over showed this much fallout. Might be crippled for life.
Sunbae, how are you even alive?
Scarier: the sheer will.
What drove this man to self-destruct like this?
To save us, sacrificing himself so brutally… that's his only thought….
Running would've been way easier.
Yet this guy skipped sleep, meals, fighting for something.
Click.
She quietly shut the window. No place for her.
Don't get friendly?
Boomers weren't right about jack shit. At least she'd remember.
His noble sacrifice.
"…Done."
Five days later, launch day. I set down the brush.