How a 140cm Beauty Drinks Soju
"Ah, what a hassle. Damn it."
He spat out the dry curse. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray tracksuit, he clicked his tongue. He stood right in front of the grand main entrance to the towering Hunter Association HQ in the heart of the city.
The old man had finally gone and hit the direct call button.
The automatic doors slid open. The eyes of the armed hunters in the lobby and the suited association staff all locked onto him at once.
"Hunter Kang Tae-ho! Good to see you!"
The reception desk clerk practically leaped up, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees. Even the burly hunters from major guilds passing by froze in place. They parted ways for him, bowing their heads respectfully.
Online communities might call him affectionately and fawn over him, but reality was different. To hunters in the real world, he was a walking strategic nuke that could slice through disasters in an instant. It was only natural they couldn't even meet his eyes and showed awe instead.
He gave a light nod. Then he headed straight for the VVIP elevator and rode it to the top floor—the president's office. Without knocking, he flung open the massive double doors with mana.
"Old man. You called me?"
Deep inside the spacious office, a man in his mid-fifties buried under stacks of paperwork looked up with a weary face. Park Jin-cheol, president of the Korea Hunter Association. An old comrade who'd rolled through blood-soaked battlefields with him during the first one or two years of the Gate Shock.
"Oh, Tae-ho. Come on in, have a seat."
The old man smiled with his wrinkled face and gestured to the reception sofa. Tae-ho sank deep into the opposite sofa. Sitting on the plush leather made his legs dangle in the air.
The old man expertly mixed two cups of instant coffee and set them on the glass table. Tae-ho picked up a paper cup and slurped it down. Sweet.
"So. Where'd the gate pop up this time?"
"Nah, didn't call you out for a dispatch today."
The old man sat across from him and let out a heavy sigh. After sipping his coffee, he eased into the main topic.
"You ever think about coming back to active duty?"
"Nope. Give up on that early."
He answered without hesitation.
"I already saved the country all by myself, spilling blood and guts. Time to live my life easy now."
The old man gave a wry smile, like it was ridiculous. He slid a thick binder across the table.
"Take a look at this. Latest world situation report."
Tae-ho set down his cup and flipped through it casually. Pages were crammed with red graphs showing damage reports from major countries overseas.
"U.S. West Coast third defense line completely collapsed. Three major cities along China's coast vaporized. The European Union—national functions basically paralyzed..."
He read the text in a flat tone. Three years ago, during the massive Gate Shock, major countries had been half-destroyed. Korea was the safest only because he and five other S-ranks had staked their lives to hold the front lines.
"Tae-ho. Lately, the monsters coming out of gates have been... off."
"How so?"
"Diversity of species, I guess? Not the usual beast-type monsters. Reports keep coming in of bipedal walkers, intelligent variants wielding weapons. New ecosystems popping up outta nowhere."
Tae-ho tapped the rim of his paper cup.
"So what? Are they strong enough to chomp buildings yet? Dangerous level?"
"No. Their raw power's still matching the gate rank. Not stronger."
The old man rubbed his dry face.
"It's the uncertainty that gets me. All these unknown mutations piling up—if it blows up into another worldwide chaos like three years ago... We gotta prepare ahead. If another Gate Shock hits like back then..."
Trauma flickered in the old man's eyes as his words trailed off. This guy had seen too much hellish carnage over those two years. Scars from watching comrades get torn apart right in front of him.
Tae-ho leaned back from the headrest. He leaned forward over the table, locking eyes with the old man.
"Old man. You're worrying over nothing again."
"..."
"I've got your back. What's the problem?"
He said it flatly but firmly.
"Intelligent types, aliens, whatever. Anything messing around in my backyard, I'll handle it. You just manage the association paperwork from behind. Don't freak out."
Straight-up sincerity. If the country fell apart, his peaceful freeloading life would too. No internet, no delivery apps—that was unacceptable.
At his nonchalant reply, the old man's tense face softened. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He'd caught that the resolve to protect the world hadn't left.
"Yeah. With you here, this old fool was overreacting."
The old man stood.
"Drinks tonight? Been a while—let's oil up the throat."
"Sure. Usual spot?"
"Yep. Meet at the pork belly place. I'll set it up."
Tae-ho hopped down from the sofa. He waved casually and left the office.
Out of the association building. He drew out a thin layer of mana around his body. Perception interference field. A basic mana technique that blurred his presence and appearance from normal eyes.
Without it, strolling Gangnam would have reporters and civilians swarming him in ten minutes flat. With the field up, he walked leisurely through the city. He liked aimless wandering.
College kids with earbuds crossing the street. Office workers chatting over coffee. Middle-aged women with shopping baskets.
Peaceful. The world he'd guarded for two years, drenched in blood and flesh. Taking in these everyday scenes always brought a subtle relief. Not that he showed it.
Passing through the bustling streets, he spotted several large vans parked curbside. Hunters from a mid-tier guild checking gear, prepping for a D-rank gate. The tank gripping his shield had faintly trembling hands. Tense faces, slapping shoulders, shouting encouragement.
"Good times."
He muttered dryly. That level of tension and passion meant they hadn't faced real hell yet—the kind where flesh ripped from bone. He quickened his pace, leaving them behind.
He unlocked the door and entered the penthouse.
"I'm back."
"Oh! The pillar of our house! Tae-ho's home!"
Dad bolted up from the living room sofa. Kang Seong-il, sixty-two this year. A hardcore braggart who boasted about him like breathing when out and about.
"Dad. Where's Hae-eun?"
"Our Hae-eun's still at work. Overtime, she said."
Thank goodness. Dodged annoying doll play today.
"Grabbing drinks with the old man tonight. Don't set a plate for me."
He flung off his tracksuit jacket and flopped next to Dad. The massive wall-mounted TV blared a trot survival audition show. Every time a contestant crooned with that melismatic flair, Dad slapped his knees.
"Whoa! Tae-ho, isn't that bend killer? But no matter what, our hero slicing monsters with mana—that's the real art, right?"
"Dad, please stop talking about me outside. It's embarrassing as hell."
"You punk. I tell the neighborhood hiking club our Tae-ho sealed a wave gate solo, and they nearly faint! My shoulders feel like Mount Namsan!"
Dad patted his shoulder and laughed heartily. Mom chimed in from the kitchen, peeling fruit.
"Yeah, our baby girl saved the country—gotta brag a bit. Apple?"
"Nah. Meat later."
With the family's lively chatter as a lullaby, he half-closed his eyes. The drowsy, ordinary vibe wasn't bad. He killed time buried in the sofa until appointment time, then headed out.
Sunset already. The pork belly joint, their usual spot. As regulars, they had the corner room reserved. Sliding the door open, the old man was already grilling meat.
"You're here. Sit."
Thick pork belly sizzled on the grill. Savory oil scent hit him. Still in his gray tracksuit, he plopped down. The old man cracked a soju bottle and filled his glass.
If a third party peeked in from outside, they'd freak. A fifties guy pouring soju like water for a 140cm silver-haired beauty. They didn't care. Tae-ho topped off the old man's glass too.
"Cheers."
The dry toast clinked glasses. The bitter burn of alcohol down his throat. This was it.
"Tae-ho. Meat's ready. Grab some."
He picked up two well-done strips with chopsticks, dipped in sauce. Fatty juices flooded his mouth.
"Tasty."
"Yeah. Eat up. You busted your ass saving the country—gotta fill that belly with meat."
The old man wrapped a big lettuce ssam and shoved it in, grinning broadly.
One of Korea's top power players, the Hunter Association president. Off-duty, just a worn-out old dude. Battlefield brothers who'd crossed life and death countless times. No need for fancy words—they just clicked.
One bite of meat, one shot of soju. Meaningless chit-chat and old tales as sides, they quietly emptied the bottle. Five empty soju bottles littered the table. Belly full, pleasant buzz rising. He stood.
Outside the restaurant, night air was cool. The old man took off first in a staffer's car. Tae-ho wrapped himself in the mana field again and strolled home slow. Hands in pockets, he looked up at the night sky.
Gangnam's neon drowned most stars. Gazing at a clear black sky instead of hideous red gate cracks splitting the heavens—that alone was a miracle and luxury to him.
He breathed deep. Soju scent mixed with cool city air filled his lungs.
"Hoo..."
Soft exhale. Nice.
Whether this damn system rebuilt him into a 140cm girl or the world called him a physics-specialized magical girl—it didn't matter. As long as his belly was full, his family safe beside him, and he could gaze at the night sky carefree. Keeping this peace was enough.
His steps lightened. A faint smile on his lips, he hummed heading to the penthouse. Tomorrow, little sis's annoying doll games would start again. Still, not a bad night.