A-Rank Dedicated Training Room
The training room for A-rank hunters was a sterile, no-frills dungeon buried deep in the Hunter Association basement, the kind of place that screamed “no mercy” from the moment you stepped inside.
Absolute Defense
“Hey, say it again. What the hell did you just mutter?”
Park Hyeomtae pressed his face so close to Min Jihun’s that the stench of last night’s garlic and liquor wafted straight into his nostrils. Jihun’s stomach twisted. God, when was the last time this guy brushed his teeth? The cigarette smoke mixed in made it even worse.
Jihun, a lifelong non-smoker, had always hated that smell, and the way Park kept leaning in made him certain the chaebol heir was doing it on purpose.
“You guys are something else. You think I’d still brush my teeth just to torture you?”
Park slapped Jihun’s cheek with the flat of his palm—firm, icy, and far too solid to be human. Each slap landed with a sharp thud-thud.
“Hah… Three years ago this same little brat was hiding behind me whining about catching goblins. Now look at you, implant in your arm and suddenly so big and strong, huh?”
Jihun’s lip curled. Implants. The word tasted like ash in his mouth. These prosthetic limbs made from magestone composites were supposed to be the pinnacle of human engineering—replacing lost parts with seamless, lifelike augmentation. Park had used one to jump from E-rank to C-rank after a failed B-rank gate raid three years ago.
Jihun had always been skeptical. Hunters’ mana flowed evenly through every part of the body. Using implants to surgically “cut” your own body felt like cutting the head off a savings account. It was practical for the rare hunter who’d lost a limb, sure, but for Park, who’d never trained or bled for his rank, it just looked cheap.
“This bastard’s gonna walk on it again!”
Park’s face was beet red. He was clearly trying to pin the blame on Jihun and get himself off the hook. Jihun sidestepped the wild mechanical arm, drove one knee into the thigh, and grabbed the other arm to flip him into a perfect aerial somersault.
“Kyuek!”
The world spun. Park slammed into the cold floor with a sickening thud, clutching his waist as his face twisted in pain.
“You should’ve put those implants in your brain instead of your arm,” Jihun said flatly.
Park’s friends—other third-generation heirs—burst out laughing behind him.
“Just wait, Min Jihun! I’ll pay you back one day!”
“Sure, just don’t talk to me with that mouth stinking like ass next time~.”
Jihun watched Park limp away, then shook his head. Inducing technique. I’ve never actually trained in judo… but I took a little Greco-Roman wrestling, so I just rolled with it.
“Why the hell did my boss make me teach this crap back then…?”
“Well, he did say you’d use it someday. Guess today’s the day, boss.”
His boxing gym owner—bald, tiger-like, terrifying—had taught him. Jihun wiped dirt from the barbell with a towel and smiled grimly. That old man was a monster.
“Tch. Look at these shoe prints. I should’ve yanked out his implant when I slapped him. Damn.”
“Hey! Don’t talk like that, comrade!”
A deep, attractive voice with a hint of North Korean charm. Jihun whipped around and nearly dropped the barbell.
“Hah! Shit! Don’t—don’t come any closer!”
The man standing in front of him was cute, innocent, and way too small to be a threat. His face was wide-eyed and panicked, but there was no real malice behind it.
“Holy shit, you’re a demon! Get away from me!”
“Aigoo, calling me a demon, Min Jihun? How disappointing. But still, today I’m going to do some ‘physical training’ with you.”
“Kyaaah—!”
“Shhh, shhh. Stop screaming. You’re not going to stop your ‘physical training’ just because you’re loud.”
“Ugh—! Nooo—! Help me—!”
Jihun reached for the desk but the two female trainers sitting there were too busy scrolling on their phones to notice. He was dragged down to the basement by a surprisingly strong hand.
“Hngh—! Hah—! Wait—please stop—!”
“Not until you say it again.”
“Haaat—! Aggrrgh—!”
“Still not there. One more time.”
“Uwaaaah—!”
The A-rank dedicated training room was the complete opposite of the polished hotel-style gym upstairs. This place was brutal—thick steel beams, heavy chains hanging from the ceiling, and no frills anywhere.
Why do the elite A-ranks have to torture themselves in places like this?!
Jihun stood there in a weighted vest, sandbags on his wrists and ankles, and started benching the 200 kg barbell. His “innocent” partner from earlier watched with wide eyes.
“Hah… Shit… This place is hell.”
“Phew~ I was just about to quit anyway. Good work, comrade.”
The man beside him was Lee Cheol-uk, the North Korean defector with the youthful face and insane Super Regeneration. They’d trained together for years—until Cheol-uk turned into a sadistic trainer.
“You’re still here? Even though you’re D-rank? How’s that?”
Jihun kept going, face red, breath ragged. At least I’m not dead yet.
“Hah… Hah… Shit… Run… I have to run away from here…”
“Hah~ I was thinking the same thing. Good job, comrade.”
Cheol-uk clapped him on the back. “We’re done for today. Let’s go eat.”
“Why the hell do A-ranks have to do this?” Jihun muttered, still panting.
“Because it builds character, comrade.”
They left the dungeon and took the elevator up to the 30th floor. The Hunters Lounge was even more over-the-top—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and a menu that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.
Jihun scanned the prices and grinned wickedly. Well, well. At this price, only A-ranks can afford to eat here.
The salary gap between ranks was brutal. That was why elite hunters risked their lives in high-rank gates and pushed themselves through hellish training—to climb the ladder.
An A-rank like me could walk in here like it was a kimbap shop.
Cheol-uk’s legs wouldn’t stop shaking as he stared at the menu. Tangsuyuk for two is 50,000 won? This capitalism is insane.
Jihun nudged him. “Eat up. You make bank—keep pinching pennies and you’ll regret it.”
Cheol-uk’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that, comrade! It’s a curse!”
“Come on, let’s order.”
Jihun called over the waitress. “Large tangsuyuk, Chinese fried pomfret, fried eggplant, Caesar salad, pig’s feet, and sashimi if you have anything fresh from the East Sea. Oh, and a bottle of soju—no, make it a bottle of whiskey.”
The waitress smiled. “We have live tuna belly sashimi today.”
“Perfect. Throw in the belly too.”
Cheol-uk’s jaw dropped. “That’s over 100,000 won, comrade!”
“Shut up and eat.”
His phone buzzed. Unknown number. Just like last time. Jihun pocketed it and kept smiling at the menu.
The door chime jingled. A woman in a peach-colored off-shoulder dress stepped inside—sharp cat-like eyes, athletic yet voluptuous figure, and a smile that could cut glass.
Han Sia.
Jihun froze. Shit. Eye contact. This is all your fault, Cheol-uk.
Park Hyeomtae’s words echoed in his head. Don’t talk to me with that mouth stinking like ass.
Jihun’s hand shot out and slapped a palm over Cheol-uk’s mouth.
“Shhh! Don’t move, comrade. This is important.”
Cheol-uk’s eyes bulged. “What—?!”
Han Sia’s gaze swept the room until it locked onto their table. Her cat eyes narrowed. She tilted her head, then walked straight toward them, heels clicking.
“Long time no see, Min Jihun. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
Jihun froze like a statue. Why did I come here? I should’ve just eaten at the association cafeteria like normal.
He tried to hide behind Cheol-uk, but Cheol-uk was too busy staring at the price list and muttering about capitalism.
Han Sia stopped right in front of the table, leaning down slightly. The thin vertical line of her navel peeked above the neckline of her dress.
“Kek—keuh…!”
Jihun’s half-chewed bread went down the wrong pipe. He coughed, eyes watering.
Han Sia looked down at him with mild disappointment. Still pathetic after all these years.
“Kek… Keuh…!”
“Heh. You survived? That’s… disappointing.”
Instant karma. Jihun stared up at her with teary, furious eyes. This is all Cheol-uk’s fault… I swear.
“Ugh…”
Han Sia’s expression flickered for a split second—something almost like… concern?—before she smoothed it out.
“Well?”
Jihun swallowed, still coughing. Wrong place. Wrong time. And wrong woman to run into.
Cheol-uk kept staring at the menu, completely oblivious. Those prices are insane… but the food looks worth it.
Han Sia’s lips twitched. She didn’t move, just stood there, cat eyes gleaming with something that looked a lot like jealousy.
“This is going to be a long night,” Jihun muttered under his breath.
Cheol-uk finally looked up. “Comrade, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Han Sia’s gaze flicked between them. “A ghost, huh? How original.”
Jihun forced a smile. “Just a little… muscle fatigue. You know how it is.”
Han Sia’s eyes narrowed further. “Muscle fatigue? In the middle of lunch?”
Cheol-uk finally noticed her. “Who the hell—?!”
“Relax. We’re all adults here.” Han Sia sat down without asking, crossing her long legs under the table. The peach dress rode up just enough to remind everyone exactly how voluptuous she was. “I didn’t know you two were coming here. Or… did you just order this much for show?”
Jihun’s brain short-circuited. Why is she sitting with us?
Cheol-uk’s jaw dropped even further. “C-Commander Han Sia?! You’re… you’re really here?!”
“I was grabbing lunch.” She glanced at Jihun’s plate. “You ordered a lot. Trying to impress someone?”
“N-no! It’s just… group order. For practice.”
Han Sia’s lips curved. “Practice. Right.”
The waitress brought their food. The aroma of fried garlic and spicy sauce filled the air. Han Sia’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Tastes good, huh?” Jihun muttered, poking at his tangsuyuk.
“It does. But I’m still waiting for an answer.” Han Sia leaned forward slightly, cleavage on full display. “You two were hiding from me, weren’t you?”
Cheol-uk gulped. “We weren’t hiding! We were just… eating!”
Han Sia ignored him and fixed Jihun with a sharp stare. “You’ve been dodging me for months now. Every time I send a raid invite, you disappear. What’s the matter, Jihun? Too busy being a D-rank intern to hang out with your old friend?”
Jihun rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not like that…”
“Not like what? Jealous?”
Cheol-uk nearly choked on his pork. “Jealous? Commander, you’re joking, right?”
Han Sia didn’t even blink. She just kept staring at Jihun, cat eyes glowing with that familiar mix of irritation and something deeper. “You think I’d care if some other girl got close to you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jihun’s heart hammered. This is bad. Very bad.
“Hey, if you two are done flirting, can we eat?” Cheol-uk waved his chopsticks around. “I’m starving and I don’t want to be late for my next gym session.”
“We’re not flirting,” Han Sia said flatly. “Jihun and I have history.”
“Yeah, kindergarten history,” Jihun muttered.
“Kindergarten history that apparently doesn’t matter anymore,” Han Sia shot back. She reached over and stole a piece of Jihun’s fried eggplant without asking. “Mmm. This is actually pretty good. You guys didn’t order for me, though. Next time at least save me some.”
Jihun blinked. “You want some?”
“Of course. You ordered enough for an army.” She took another piece, chewing slowly. “I heard you’re still stuck at D-rank. Must be rough.”
“It’s fine,” Jihun lied. “I’m working on it.”
“Mhm.” Han Sia’s gaze flicked down to his plate again. “You’re eating like you’re trying to impress someone. Cute.”
Cheol-uk leaned in. “Comrade, she’s hitting on you. I can feel it.”
“I am not,” Han Sia snapped. “I’m checking on my old friend. Big difference.”
Jihun’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at it. Unknown number. Again.
Han Sia noticed. “Who’s texting you at lunch?”
“Just some spam.”
“Spam with the same number every time?”
Jihun’s eyes widened. How does she know that?
Cheol-uk suddenly stood up. “Ah! I need to use the restroom. Be right back!”
He bolted toward the hallway, leaving the two of them alone at the table.
Han Sia turned to Jihun, cat eyes gleaming. “So. Spill. What’s really going on?”
Jihun sighed. “Nothing. Just work.”
“Work.” Han Sia leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, I could always pull some strings. Get you into a real B-rank team. Or even A-rank, if you want.”
“You’d do that?”
“I already did it once before, remember?” Her fingers brushed his arm under the table—quick, electric. “But you always push me away. Why?”
Jihun’s face flushed. “I’m not… I just…”
“Just what?”
Her voice was sharp, but her eyes were softer than usual. Jihun felt the old childhood pull—the kindergarten friend who used to steal his snacks and then secretly save the last piece for him.
“Nothing,” he finally said. “Just eat your food, Sia.”
Han Sia smiled—small, genuine, dangerous. “Fine. But only because you called me Sia.”
She took another bite, then suddenly her expression changed again. “By the way… that new girl in the raid team. Nam Ju-hui. I hear she’s pretty good.”
Jihun nearly dropped his chopsticks. “What—?!”
Han Sia’s smile sharpened. “What? I’m just asking. Can’t a leader check on her subordinates?”
“She’s… she’s just my raid partner,” Jihun stammered.
“Partner.” Han Sia’s voice was ice. “Right. And I’m just your childhood friend who happens to be extremely jealous.”
Cheol-uk returned, face flushed. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing at all,” Han Sia said sweetly. “Just catching up with an old friend.”
Jihun stared at his plate, cheeks burning. This day just got a lot more complicated.
Outside the window, the Seoul skyline glittered. Somewhere in the city, another gate was opening. Another raid was waiting. And somewhere, a certain D-rank intern with an unawakened unique skill was about to get a whole lot more attention than he bargained for.