Crazy Talent Freaks

Kim Dongmin opened his eyes early in the morning.

It wasn't that he'd set out to wake up early — his eyes just opened on their own. The night before, he'd walked through the door, washed up, cooked dinner, done the dishes, finished cleaning, and gone straight to bed, so he'd turned in quite early.

You could argue that going to bed late is still going to bed late, but no — he'd genuinely gone to sleep earlier than usual. The proof was simple: he hadn't touched his beloved degenerate loli gacha game. No daily check-in, no daily quests. That alone was evidence of just how exhausted Kim Dongmin had been.

"…Still can't sleep."

A solid night's rest had faded his dark circles somewhat. Becoming a hunter meant that simply getting proper rest made those shadows under his eyes noticeably retreat.

"Might as well write the report."

He got out of bed, straightened the bedding, cleaned himself up in the bathroom, finished breakfast and the dishes, then headed into the guild.

"Oh, you're here?"

Kim Hyeoncheol was already there. A guild leader being at the guild wasn't strange in itself — but Kim Hyeoncheol was definitely a strange person. If he weren't, he wouldn't have turned the guild leader's office into his personal residence.

He greeted Kim Dongmin in his pajamas. For reference, it was currently 7 a.m. — right around the time Park Sohee would have been nuzzling into her teddy bear.

"Hold on. Just hold on a second."

Kim Hyeoncheol, peeking over Kim Dongmin's shoulder at the report in progress, scrubbed his face with both hands like he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"So you're telling me she hit one with that club, it slowed down, let out a moan, and started swinging at empty air?"

"Yes. But I'm writing a report right now, so please don't talk to m— AAAGH!"

He got smacked.

"You little shit, multitask. Like a mage doing double casting. Huh?"

"I'm not even a mage. Why would I learn something like that? I'd rather spend that time on sword training."

"Then go do sword training. All you ever do is play those weird games, and yet you keep talking back."

"That's my busine— AAAGH!"

Smacked again.

"Whatever. Just keep writing."

"I'll write if you stop talking to me."

"Fine, just hurry up."

"You talking to me again just made me slower."

Smacked one more time.

"Cut the crap."

"Yes, sir."

And so Kim Dongmin went back to writing his report.

"Wait. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seriously, just wait."

"What now."

"She killed them in one hit? Hunter Park Sohee?"

"Yes. One-shotted them. About once every six."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Kim Hyeoncheol's reaction was, in a way, completely reasonable.

"That person became a hunter three days ago."

Enemies slowing down and acting strangely after getting hit — that much he could accept.

"If the weapon is a good item, of course that could happen."

The weapon Kim Hyeoncheol himself used was a legendary-grade staff, one of only a handful in all of Korea. It came with a thought-acceleration buff when casting magic, plus an expanded area of effect on AoE spells. Gear mattered for hunters. That was why they went to auctions and hoarded coins — for good items.

"This is completely absurd, but even if that club had a double damage rider on it, one-shotting them would still be impossible."

That was the scale of what a three-day-old hunter one-shotting a mole-dog meant.

Orcs were simple creatures — aim for a vital point and you could kill them easily enough. Hit a weak spot and death was a given. Mole-dogs were different. Smarter than orcs, and better at blocking attacks. Orcs were dumb enough to block on pure instinct, but mole-dogs actually learned. Watching one of their own die in front of them, predicting the direction of the next attack and defending against it — that was only natural.

"Even if they block with their bodies and the on-hit effect still goes through, killing them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in one shot is still impossible."

So then — how had Park Sohee managed to one-shot mole-dogs?

"She hit them before they could block."

She was simply that fast. By the time they tried to guard, the club was already cracking against their skulls. Defense was meaningless.

Of course, some of them had tried to block preemptively.

"She also changed the trajectory mid-swing."

Not just straight overhead chops — she'd shown the sense to choke up on the club mid-swing or twist the angle of attack.

"And you're saying a three-day hunter can do that?"

Hunters were ordinary people who'd suddenly gained special abilities. Which meant that someone who, three days ago, had never been in a life-or-death fight — hell, never been in a fight at all — suddenly being good at combat was absurd on its face.

"Did she train in martial arts before this? Didn't seem like it."

Kim Hyeoncheol had been a soldier. Not an ordinary one — Naval Special Warfare Flotilla. Naturally, he'd learned most martial arts styles, and thanks to that, he could pick out a trained fighter just from the look in their eyes.

"No. It seemed like she was just doing it on instinct."

"……."

Every so often, that type showed up. People who hadn't done combat training — hadn't even exercised properly — who became hunters and then started spewing talent like absolute maniacs.

The Kim Dongmin standing right in front of him was one of those types.

"Ha. Crazy talent freaks."

Kim Hyeoncheol let out a weary sigh and shook his head.

"You're a talent freak too, Guild Leader."

"Don't start."

He smacked Kim Dongmin one more time for that, then said:

"When you finish that report, hand it over to me. I'll send it to the Association."

"Why do you keep hitting me, though……"

"You signed off on it too. Limited physical discipline permitted in exchange for additional incentives."

"Well, yeah."

"But why are you so obsessed with money?"

Looking at how Dongmin normally carried himself, he didn't seem like the money-obsessed type, so Hyeoncheol asked.

"…I've got my reasons."

"Kid. Boring answer."

Watching Kim Dongmin dodge the question, Kim Hyeoncheol figured the guy had his own circumstances and headed for the guild leader's office.

"Ah — about Hunter Park Sohee. Float a guild offer her way. Quietly, so the other places don't catch wind."

"Me?"

"Tell HR when they come in later. I'm sleepy. Going back to bed."

Leaving Kim Hyeoncheol — clad in an adorable panda onesie — disappearing back into the guild leader's office, Kim Dongmin finished writing his report.

And after that.

"Who needs a reason to make money."

Holding his phone sideways, Kim Dongmin fired up his degenerate loli gacha game and muttered to himself.

"Gotta raise my daughters."

In truth, Kim Dongmin poured most of his salary into the game.

"…This is boring."

He'd protected countless worlds (in-game) up to this point, but for some reason the game just wasn't fun anymore.

"Maybe I should train."

Training — something he barely ever bothered with — was suddenly calling to him.

The mole-dog gate he'd entered with Park Sohee. The fact that he hadn't spotted the stealthed mole-dog in there had hit him pretty hard. Park Sohee, only three days in, had found it — and he, a hunter with over half a year of experience, had not. On top of that, all he'd really done was finish off the mole-dogs she hadn't cleaned up herself. That was more than enough to bruise his pride.

"Haaah……"

And so Kim Dongmin headed down to the training hall in the guild basement.

First things first — I ate breakfast.

Calling it breakfast was a stretch when it was closer to dinner than lunch, but let's not dwell on that.

There were no ingredients at home, so I'd tried to order delivery — except I didn't have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a card, so delivery was a no-go. No choice but to head outside. I went to a gukbap place.

It wasn't a hangover run. I just wanted gukbap. I'd been planning to eat some even before I came to this world.

I half-expected a truck to come flying out of nowhere, but thankfully none did.

Well, yeah. Once is more than enough for that kind of experience.

I'd originally planned to hit the bank today too, but it was too late for that now.

Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

Making that silent resolution, I walked into the gukbap place and ordered.

"The special combo, please."

"That's a lot of food — you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

What did they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take me for. Back when I streamed, mukbangs had demand too — I'd even cut the eating segments and uploaded them separately to YouTube.

Come to think of it, should I go live?

Nah. Stream later.

I was still too embarrassed to even check the clip comments. Clips of me getting wasted and making a fool of myself yesterday had already blown past twenty. More than half of those had been uploaded by Merciless Dumpling Slayer.

Maybe I'll just look at the comments.

I checked the comments on the highest-viewed clip — "The Dangers of Nectar."

"……."

Still, plenty of nice things being said.

And I can already see which ones I'm banning the second I go live.

No plans to stream today, though.

Normally you're supposed to put up a notice for this kind of thing.

Days off needed announcements. That way viewers would go, "Ah, she's off today," and not sit around waiting for a stream that wasn't coming.

A stream bulletin board would be nice.

I needed to expand the channels for communicating with the Constellations. I couldn't exactly go live just to say I wasn't going live today.

Set up an internal clip section inside the board, subscriber-only events…

Basically make it like an internet café community.

I was browsing through the shop with that in mind when one feature caught my eye.

"What the hell is this."

Last time I'd skimmed past it too fast to notice. This was a thing?

…Should I buy it?