My Unique Trait: The Status Window
Ten years had passed since gates appeared on Earth. The world had put chaos behind it and adapted cleverly. Gates were no longer catastrophes—for some, they were opportunities, and for others, brutal markers of class.
In Korea, turning twenty wasn't an age of excitement. It was Judgment Day, the moment you received your new form of identification: the Awakener ID Card.
True to form for a nation obsessed with censuses, every young person headed to the Hunter Association on their twentieth birthday. The stats measured there would dictate the trajectory of their life.
With the physical gap between men and women erased upon awakening, even military conscription was decided solely by these numbers. Surpass the benchmark of 5, and you'd serve as a hunter soldier. Fall short, and you'd get an exemption stamped with society's stigma.
I stood on the measurement device with high hopes too. But the numbers on the issued card were cruel.
Average stats: 3
A score that didn't even reach the average for ordinary people. Anything below 5 meant automatic exemption unless you had a unique trait.
Clinging to that last shred of hope as a "unique trait holder," the detailed scan delivered an even more miserable result. My trait was just a Status Window that showed my own condition in numbers—nothing more.
"Below average. Exempted. Next person, come in."
The examiner's indifferent voice stabbed like a dagger. Studies claiming that intelligence stats didn't reflect real smarts offered no comfort.
Unable to even approach a decent company, I ended up starting work as a porter at gate entrances, hauling hunters' gear.
A year passed like that, enduring scorn and prejudice with loads on my back.
Status Window
That was when the true value of my unique trait began to reveal itself.