Why Did the Gate Close So Soon?

Why did this happen? The bustling Han River riverside was currently off-limits to anyone but authorized personnel due to a gate outbreak. Barricades encircled the gate, guarded by armed personnel, with hunters poised to enter and broadcasters on hand to film it all.

"Results in yet?"

"Yes, between 5,000 and 20,000."

Agents from the Management Bureau, having detected the dimensional rift, conversed while eyeing the numbers on their monitors. Their job was to quantify the mana leaking from the gate, gauge its conquest difficulty, and issue the clearance.

"That's a huge spread..."

"What should we do?"

"Hmm..."

The on-site commander sank into deep thought. The problem was the irregular mana readings from the gate—far more volatile than expected. The average margin of error was around 5,000, but this gate's fluctuation spanned 15,000. Three times the norm.

Some hunters waiting nearby grew restless as the difficulty assessment dragged on, but it was all for their safety. The Bureau wasn't reckless enough to send people into an unpredictable gate blindly.

"Go with the max value—the highest reading."

"Pardon? That would make it... 20,000... so A-rank..."

"Exactly."

"Understood."

The Bureau agents sprang into action, first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠broadcasting the news to the hunters waiting at the riverside. And their reaction was...

"A-rank? You're kidding! I just heard those guys say the minimum was 5,000! That's low enough for C-rank hunters to handle!!"

"Right! If you keep demanding only high-rank hunters, how are low-rank ones like us supposed to build our records?"

"P-please calm down! This is all for your safety..."

"Safety? I'm about to get kicked from my guild and end up on the streets—what safety?!"

The Bureau agent broke into a cold sweat amid the hunters' fierce backlash. Hunters might boast sky-high incomes, but they weren't just lounging around. As guild employees, they had to prove their worth for steady pay. Yet if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they didn't meet the Bureau's rank requirements, they couldn't even enter gates or dungeons—leaving low-rank hunters desperate.

Sure, low ranks could grind to improve, but ordinary awakeners topped out at C-rank through effort alone. B-rank and up demanded innate talent, spawning jokes among hunters that C-rank was the real ceiling.

For them, gates and uncharted dungeons were golden opportunities. Rare loot worth millions, artifacts that boosted abilities—all up for grabs with a bit of luck. They fumed that rank alone was blocking their shot.

As protests escalated, certified hunters dispatched to the scene tried to intervene—right when...

"The readings are dropping!!"

The shout from the monitor-watcher coincided with the gate's spatial erosion halting. Cracks in the air began sealing, drawing every eye on-site.

"What? Did they already clear it?"

"Nah, no way—it's only been 20 minutes."

Gates typically took hunters about two hours to conquer. Even with time dilation inside, 20 minutes was absurdly short. The biggest time sink was navigation—finding the boss linking the gate to the real world. Standard tactic: bring a detection-type hunter with sharp mana sense. But irregular gates like this rendered that moot; by the time one joined, most were already cleared. The Bureau's shortest recorded time? 30 minutes. Experts agreed no gate fell faster, regardless of rank.

The site commander eyed the stabilizing gate. "Who went in?"

"Yes sir! One B-rank from the 'Red Sun' guild, two C-ranks, and one unidentified woman."

"Unidentified woman?"

"CCTV and scanner checks show no license."

"...No way a civilian?"

"But she headed in so boldly..."

"Haa..."

The agent slumped into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Two possibilities: suicide seeker or airhead who lost her license... Just in case, grab a statement form."

"On it!"

"Prep for withdrawal too—incident closed. Inspection team handles the rest."

As one agent fetched the form, the gate entered dissipation. Through the fading blue rift stepped a woman.

#

"...Huh?"

Emerging from the portal, I blinked at the bizarre scene. Soldiers in black combat gear, people hefting massive cameras, reporters surging toward me like a tide.

—Hello! HBS News! Mind an interview—

—Hunter Channel here!! A few questions on the gate clear—

—Where are your teammates? Any accidents—

The barrage of questions left me reeling. I still didn't get it. Why were reporters waiting? Standard gate-exit protocol? Maybe some custom—

That's when combat-clad men shoved through the reporters, H-mark emblazoned on their chests. Cold sweat hit me instantly. Bureau agents, obviously.

I yanked my hat low. Are they here for me?!

...Nah? Coincidence maybe. Gates fall under Bureau jurisdiction. They respond to outbreaks; I just happened to be there.

Best play: act natural.

The agents reached me, extending a small rectangular device. "Excuse us. ID check due to verification issues. Thumb here, please?"

"...ID check?"

"Yes. Forgot your license?"

License? Oh right—hunters must carry them constantly. Dungeons use entry logs, but gates need license scans for records. Special tech auto-logs ID and entries near scanners—insurance against disappearances. Solo deaths go unconfirmed without bodies, hence the law.

...But I'm not a hunter?

To the misunderstanding agent, I said, "Um... I'm not a hunter?"

"Yeah, yeah, everyone says that. This proves it—cooperate, please."

Total skepticism... Guess unlicensed hunters pull this line often. Fair enough—probably like fake-ID smokers at a convenience store.

No guilt here, so I pressed my thumb obediently. Beep. Recognition chimed; the agent checked.

And...

"...Huh?"

The absurd verdict drew a dumb noise from me.

#

After a quick statement, I slipped out of the riverside and checked into a hotel near Seoul Station. Escaping was easier than expected—the fake Red Sun pulled aggro while I dodged reporters for the form.

"Fwew...!"

Post-shower, dried spotless by wind magic, I dove into the plush bed. Daily fatigue melted away. Flipping over, I stared blankly at the ceiling.

"...Doesn't feel real..."

Long story short: ability test wrapped registration. I'm officially a hunter now. Bureau folks either oblivious to my role in the chaos or just slapped a license warning and let me go.

Kinda anticlimactic... Makes my evasion till now feel stupid.

"Haa... Gotta hit the Bureau again tomorrow?"

License pickup meant another visit—sigh.

"Why'd I even run then..."

All my own hype, what a mess. Self-inflicted headache.

Tension easing—or post-exertion crash—drowsiness hit. Bed's siren call sealed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Eyelids drooped.

Riiiing!!

The bedside phone blared. Not thrilled at the sleep sabotage, I scowled and answered.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, front desk. Is this Ms. Yoo Ji-na?"

"Yes, what's up?"

"A guest is looking for you—we're notifying per protocol."

Guest? Who? And how'd they know I'm here?

Fishy... "Could you ask who?"

"Ah... Very famous person..."

Desk clerk sounded flustered. Who merits this hemming? Famous to me...

Spine chilled; sleep vanished. The one I now call sis—but old habits die hard.

"N-no way, sis?"

I dropped the receiver. To me, the villain who exiled her bro to the sticks. To the world: S-rank celeb, the Blood Empress.

My hand shook post-drop.

"W-wait, I've been using her card this whole time!!"

Transactions trace to the owner. She knows I'm in Seoul—pinpointing the hotel's trivial.

Oh god... How'd I miss that? No choice—her card was my only payment!

—Hello? Ms. Yoo Ji-na?

Oblivious clerk calling my name. No escape.

Think, Rose Crimson! 200 years—you've beaten worse!

I grabbed the receiver. "Sorry, zoned out."

"No worries. Chief Jeong Tae-san asks if the 25th-floor cafeteria is fine—he'll wait."

"Sure, heading up soo—wait, who?"

First time hearing the name.