A Decade Lost, A World Changed

Hyun-seong had woken up in the hospital. After reuniting with his mother, who happened to be right there in front of him, the doctor and nurses came by once to check his condition.

That was when he learned the truth: he'd been in a vegetative state for ten years.

Whether it was coincidence or fate, those had been ten grueling years tormenting Hyun-seong.

Was controlling time too much to ask after all?

Hyun-seong had hoped not a single second had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠passed since the day he transferred to the other world, but there was no helping it.

"Mom, I want to check out."

"What? No way! The doctor said we need to monitor you for at least a few months."

"I'm fine. If anything comes up, I can just do outpatient treatment."

"Still no."

"Staying here longer will just rack up more hospital bills."

As far as Hyun-seong remembered, they'd never been well-off, not from his childhood. They weren't starving, but they didn't live in luxury either. He'd lived at home until he was twenty, when he transferred to the other world, so he knew their situation well.

I got a part-time job so I wouldn't have to ask my parents for money.

He recalled his goal: get into a nearby university on scholarship, learn something useful, and land a job.

Never even set foot on campus before getting isekai'd.

Come to think of it, his whole life had been stolen away, and now he was thirty. He'd wasted his golden twenties entirely.

In this sigh-inducing situation, Hyun-seong felt an urge to discharge himself immediately and do something.

But then.

She grabbed his hand roughly.

"Don't worry about the money. I'll handle everything."

Her hand trembled coldly against his, stabbing at his heart no matter how he looked at it. Sure, money spent on kids was never wasted, even if it meant pouring out from a tight household—but this was too much.

"Still, I'm checking out."

That was when the hospital room ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠door slid open, and a woman walked in. A face he'd never seen before.

She headed straight for the bed where Hyun-seong sat and said, "The doctor's cleared you, and I asked—they said discharge is fine."

"Who are you?"

"Choi Hyun-ji! Your brother's woken up after ten years, and that's how you talk?!"

Choi Hyun-ji.

Hyun-seong mulled over the name. He thought back to long ago, just before he'd transferred to the other world.

My little sister.

An eight-year gap, a late blessing. When he was twenty, she was twelve, in fifth grade.

She's twenty-two now?

No wonder she felt like a stranger. He barely remembered her face clearly, and to him now, she was practically a first meeting.

Still, it was a relief she'd backed him up on discharging.

"You heard her? I'm really fine. I'm checking out."

They say no parent can win against their child. With their agreement, Hyun-seong was finally able to complete the discharge procedures smoothly.

So, what now?

Stepping into what could be called home for the first time in ages—truly ages—Hyun-seong lay on the sofa, gripped by a sense of emptiness he couldn't shake.

It was probably inevitable. Ten years as a vegetable meant no skills, no certifications, no education. He had no clue what job he could even do.

Start with part-time gigs and build up slowly?

He'd cautiously asked his unfamiliar little sister, Choi Hyun-ji, and learned the hospital bills had nearly hit 100 million won. They didn't have that kind of cash, of course. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She'd borrowed from everywhere to cover it and was still slowly paying it back.

She said they barely touched the principal because they went to shady lenders.

Thanks to her venting like that, he'd pieced together the truth. His mother had turned to loan sharks.

A dizzying feeling hit him. Hyun-seong sat up properly on the sofa.

Glancing at the living room clock, it was late.

Too late today. I'll head out tomorrow.

With that thought, he moved to the kitchen connected to the living room. A spicy aroma wafted over, tickling his nose.

"What's that smell?"

His mother was cooking in the kitchen, her rough hands busy at work.

"Stewed kimchi. You've loved it since you were little."

He wasn't sure about shoving kimchi into a body that had survived ten years on liquid nutrients, but his salivary glands seemed broken for sure. The bubbling red broth looked irresistibly appetizing.

Mom's stewed kimchi—I thought I'd never taste it again.

Screw health; he'd eat and drop dead if he had to. He waited eagerly.

"By the way, when's Dad coming home?"

He asked his cooking mother. She froze mid-stir with her ladle, turning to stone.

"Mom?"

"Your dad... he passed away. Five years ago."

Her voice was calm but laced with moisture. Hyun-seong panicked.

He'd assumed his dad was just working late. He couldn't find words to say next.

After a brief silence, his mother continued.

"I'm sorry. I should've told him not to go..."

He didn't know the story, but he approached her sobbing form and gently hugged her from behind. She felt so terribly small.

"Why are you sorry, Mom? I should be the one apologizing. Don't cry."

Comforting her like that, she quickly wiped her tears and nodded.

"Yeah, dinner's ready. Let's eat. Call Hyun-ji too."

"Got it."

As Hyun-seong went to fetch Hyun-ji, she shakily served the stewed kimchi onto plates with trembling hands.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Hyun-ji and Hyun-seong emerged from the room.

"Mom, crying again? Hey! Choi Hyun-seong! I told you not to make her cry!"

She suddenly yelled his name, leaving him stunned. It seemed the cute little sister from long ago was gone.

"Choi Hyun-ji! Don't be rude to your brother!"

Thanks to their mother's scolding, Hyun-seong survived unscathed.

The meal was fantastic. Devouring the long-awaited stewed kimchi, he felt no issues with his body. Watching him, the family laughed in disbelief. Hyun-ji's laugh bordered on a sneer, but hey, a laugh was a laugh.

After dinner, they let their mother rest, and Hyun-seong finished the dishes. Shaking water from his hands, he knocked on Hyun-ji's door with resolve.

Their home was a modest 13-pyeong apartment: two rooms, one bathroom. Mom had the master, Hyun-ji the smaller one. Hyun-seong was fine with the sofa, but he knocked now because he had questions.

"Coming in."

He opened the door before she could reply. Nothing special in his sister's room: single bed, small desk, portable pipe rack. She sat on the bed's edge in the sparse space.

"What's up?"

"Got some questions."

"Like what?"

Her response was sharp. They'd eased the awkwardness talking money earlier, but she still seemed to blame him as the family's downfall.

It was fair, but that wasn't what intrigued him.

"How did Dad die?"

He couldn't ask Mom, so he borrowed her lips for the truth.

"Oh, that? He pushed himself paying your bills and died. People die in dungeons all the time."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hyun-seong's vibe turned serious. His eyes sharpened, aura turning violent. Hyun-ji shrank, regretting her casual tone about their parents' death.

"Sorry."

"No, you said something about dungeons."

"Huh? Dungeons?"

Hyun-seong wondered if he'd misheard. Dungeons were gates to the demon world that opened in his other world. Far from modern life.

"Ten years ago—right around when you went vegetative, actually. The world changed overnight. Monsters straight out of movies appeared, turning everything into hell."

Hyun-seong rubbed his forehead at her words.

What's gone wrong? My fault?

Did botching ancient magic send him to some twisted world?

Regardless of his thoughts, Hyun-ji continued.

"But not everyone was doomed. Some people awakened powers to fight monsters. They're called hunters now."

No time to adjust, Hyun-seong pressed her.

"Dad became a hunter, went into a dungeon, and died?"

"Nah, if he'd been a hunter, it'd be different. Dungeons let civilians in too—for the grunt work hunters hate. Hauling gear, butchering monster corpses, gathering special materials."

Right, like day laborers from the old days. Manual labor, no different from grunt work.

Hyun-seong knew without asking.

Same in the other world.

Hero parties didn't need them, but regular adventurers hired porters for odd jobs. He was all too familiar—unpleasantly so.

He plopped into the chair by the desk, rubbing his forehead. Hyun-ji looked at him pityingly.

"The world's changed a ton."

"Yeah."

He hummed agreement, still rubbing.

"B-but, awakening isn't bad. Top hunters rake in insane money."

Her tone shifted oddly, catching his attention.

"How does this awakening thing work?"

"No one knows for sure. But luck's the leading theory."

"Luck, huh."

Hyun-seong narrowed his eyes. Millennia dealing with people had honed his instincts. They were screaming now.

"You've awakened, haven't you."

"Huh? Aw-awakened? If I had, we wouldn't be this broke."

Too young to fool him.

I'm thirty-plus thousands of years old.

Still, she clearly didn't want to admit it, so he played along.

"Right, probably not."

"Y-yeah, obviously."

"Mm. Anyway, what do you do?"

Mom said she worked at a company. But he'd basically caught her awakening, so it was obviously a lie.

"I work at a company."

"What kind?"

"Like a management firm... handling stuff for clients in the background... Uh, you wouldn't get it, oppa."

Panicking so hard, "oppa" slipped out naturally. She looked cute enough that he decided to drop the teasing.

"Alright. Work hard."

With that, Hyun-seong left her room. He lay straight on the sofa as is.

Hunters, huh...

Deep in thought. He'd barely escaped hellish monsters, only for peaceful Earth to sprout dungeons and monsters.

Though from the description, they might not be the same dungeons—but to him, it was serious.

Then it hit him.

What if... status window.

Insane.