Hunter Exam (1)
“Kim Cheon-ah…”
I rolled the name around in my mouth. The pronunciation was soft, a bit unique, but nestled among all those outlandish names, it actually seemed pretty normal. I subtly liked that it included the “Cheon” from Cheonma.
“If we're doing this, wouldn't Kim Cheon-ma be better?”
Heukryeon, standing beside me, said it with a hint of regret.
I shook my head slightly. That name wasn't even on the list to begin with. Even if it had been, I wouldn't have picked it. It wasn't like I was planning to advertise “Heavenly Demon” to the whole neighborhood.
“Yes. Then we'll proceed with Kim Cheon-ah.”
Kang Tae-woo nodded heavily at my response.
“The paperwork will be finalized by the end of today.”
“Whew.”
Kim Cheon-ah. Only now did it really hit me—I finally had a place in Korea.
“Ah, here it is.”
While I was picking my name, the meal Kang Tae-woo had ordered ahead arrived. A thick slab of beef steak on what looked like an upscale plate. It looked insanely delicious. My hand trembled a bit thinking of the price, but hey, it wasn't my money.
“Thanks for the meal.”
I picked up the fork and knife, sliced into the meat, and popped a piece in my mouth. Is this what they mean by melting in your mouth? The saying that expensive meat didn't even need chewing was spot on.
“Is it to your taste?”
“Yeah. It's amazing.”
“Good to hear. Order more if it's not enough. Eat up.”
Kang Tae-woo smiled warmly, like an uncle looking at his niece.
“Nom nom nom.”
It felt a bit burdensome, but the steak was so good I forgot about it in no time.
The next morning.
Click.
As soon as I opened the front door, there was mail waiting. A thick envelope of documents.
“Ooh.”
I tore it open and checked the contents.
“Chaebol families really are on another level.”
After finishing the meal with Kang Tae-woo, I'd looked up info on Chae Yu-ra separately. I wanted to know just who she was. It wasn't hard—took about a minute. Just searching her name brought up everything.
Daesan Group. One of Korea's top five conglomerates. Chae Yu-ra was the granddaughter of its chairman.
“Still, this is ridiculously fast.”
I hadn't expected it to be done in a single day. Forging—no, creating an ID like this. A mega-corp's info network and capital were beyond imagination.
“This is a passport. And this... like a youth ID?”
Inside the envelope were three items: a youth ID card, a Korean passport, and a check card with my name on it.
I didn't even know youth IDs existed.
I'd thought ID meant resident registration card only. But those were for over 17. Under that, you got a youth ID for verification.
Couldn't they just age me up a bit?
I checked my face in selfie mode on my smartphone. Small, porcelain-pale face. Eyes with a faint red glow. No matter how you spun it, I didn't look a day over middle school.
Adult ID was a no-go. The youth ID listed my info: Name, Kim Cheon-ah. Age... doing the math, 12 years old. Elementary school age. Perfect match for my mirror image. And gender: female.
“Ugh.”
My gender really had changed. Seeing it on an official ID made it feel weirdly real.
Anyway, it was an official government-issued ID, just like a resident card. Full verification power.
Plus, once I get my hunter license, that's all I need anyway.
Hunter licenses were nationally certified. One of those outdid any regular ID.
“Let's test it out.”
I fired up my smartphone, hit a random site's signup button, and entered “Kim Cheon-ah” and the ID number in the verification screen.
[Identity verification completed.]
Oho. It worked. Well, with a check card too, it was obvious, but still.
“Congratulations. A major issue has been resolved.”
Heukryeon, watching from the side, said elegantly.
“Shall we do some training today?”
“W-Wait a sec...!”
I checked the calendar on my phone. The date I'd marked matched today perfectly.
“I've got something to do today,” I told Heukryeon.
Today was the Hunter Association's hunter license exam day.
“Exam's at 2 p.m., so I should start getting ready.”
Plenty of time. Shower, eat, head out—perfect timing.
Heukryeon spoke up. “You plan to take the exam today?”
“Yeah. Figured I'd check it out.”
She tilted her head at my answer. “Don't you need to apply in advance? Can you just show up and take it?”
Surprisingly knowledgeable about modern society.
“Normally, yeah. But hunter exams are different.”
Hunter awakenings come without warning. People wake up in their sleep or mid-meal. The Association had to scoop up talent fast, so walk-ins were allowed.
“It's split into written and practical. Pass written, then practical.”
Today's was written. Better to get it out of the way early.
“Written exams are pretty frequent. Once a month.”
Heukryeon, having heard the explanation, asked, “Have you studied for the written exam?”
“Nah, not really...”
No study guides, not even seen the cover. A few days post-awakening—when would I have crammed?
Hunter Gallery said written was easy, but no way I'd pass without any prep. I had some conscience; wasn't planning to ace it today.
“Then how do you plan to take it?”
“Just a taste test.”
Exam hall vibes matter. “It's monthly anyway. Scoping the atmosphere now can't hurt.”
Come this month to observe, next month go hard. Perfect timing today—why not?
“Alright, time to go.”
I stood up. Time to step into the outside world. Not some stateless foreigner, but a proud Korean citizen: 12-year-old girl Kim Cheon-ah.
A massive building piercing the sky. At its entrance hung a bold sign.
[Hunter Association Seoul Branch]
“This the place?”
Up close, the building was way bigger and grander than I'd imagined. I strode confidently into the first-floor lobby, straight to the reception desk, and slapped down my still-fresh youth ID.
The female staffer's hand, reaching for an ID, froze mid-air. She glanced between my face and the card, eyes widening. Her mechanical smile melted away, replaced by a kindergarten teacher's gentle coo.
“Oh my, you're here for the exam yourself?”
A few people nearby were staring. Guess a 12-year-old taking the exam solo was rare.
“Yes.”
“Got it, identity confirmed. Walk-in written exam, right? Entry fee is 50,000 won.”
“...Yes?”
Way pricier than expected. I'd skimmed exam dates online, skipped fees entirely. Came with just a pen in my pocket.
Should I just go home?
Seriously considered it. 50k was two chickens. No study, just vibes—burning cash for that?
But I changed my mind. Chae Yu-ra's 10 million won. Crisp 50k bills flashed in my head. Not sweating pocket change yet.
“H-Here.”
I fished out a 50,000-won bill from my pocket.
“Registered. Exam room's on the third floor. Good luck!”
With her cheerful send-off, I grabbed my exam ticket and turned.
...Still kinda stings.
10 million or not, 50k hurt. Anyway, no awakening check? Not at entry or registration. Expected mana scan or something.
Made sense after paying. “They weed 'em out in practical anyway.”
Full score here? If not awakened, practical flop. Who'd pay 50k for a useless written exam without powers?
No point blocking tax enthusiasts.
I opened the exam room door and sat at my numbered seat. Plenty of space—not too many awakeners. Scanned the room: some late-bloomer elders with gray hair, but mostly 20s-30s guys.
Awakenings hit young mostly.
Felt eyes, turned—some examinees glancing curiously. A 12-year-old girl with an exam ticket? Eye-catching.
Front door opened soon. Stern middle-aged proctor, thick stack of papers.
“Everyone seated. Exam starts soon.”
Room hushed. Proctor at podium droned through instructions.
“90 minutes total. One and a half hours.”
Seemed generous.
“Subjects: Korean, English, Math, Hunter Law. Four total.”
Four subjects.
“Distributing papers now. Check print quality upon receipt. Problem? Raise hand quietly.”
After formalities, papers passed row by row.
“Exam starts now.”
At the signal, I flipped open the first page.
Not many questions.
Four subjects in 90 minutes—not a ton per test. I skimmed lightly.
“Hm?”
I furrowed my brow, then quietly shot up one hand.