Chapter Text
Despite his logical personality, Woo Jinchul had always been guided by his intuition: he owed his life to it.
That ominous feeling to avoid an area on his way to school? A kidnapping would appear on the news the next day, with that place as the crime scene.
The urge to stop at the crosswalk despite the white light? Moments later, a truck no one had seen seconds before would zip past the intersection, nearly taking the lives of the pedestrians crossing.
Where others would have their parents to support them, he would have nothing but the nagging feeling of dread or insistence. It was often fleeting, but once it clung to him, like a leech, it refused to let go.
It worked with other people, too. Sometimes, when he walked past an unfortunate individual, he would freeze, his intrusive thoughts screaming at him to follow them. Sometimes, the police would help, but more often than not, he would have to interfere himself—even if that led to a black eye from fighting the offenders off and rumors surrounding his personality.
Jinchul put his head on the steering wheel and sighed. The cars in front of him stretched into the horizon, and his ears rang from the irritated honks of his neighbors. From a perceived delinquent with perfect attendance to a businessman running late from traffic… How times change.
The bridge shook again, and Jinchul winced. The feeling of anticipation had followed him ever since he woke up, and despite checking his tires thrice, it refused to leave him. There were no portholes either, so that only left the traffic…and the bridge. Jinchul desperately hoped it was the former.
As if jinxing that thought, a louder crack resonated from the bridge, and the second after, flying cars entered his line of sight. He blinked. No, the cars weren’t flying, they were falling, with him at its center.
His last thought was of how blue the sky looked.
————
You…wake up? You try and take in your surroundings, but your neck refuses to move: you are not in control of this body. Through the reflection of a stagnant puddle, a small teenager stares back at you.
You reel back. Their hair is strawberry blonde instead of ginger, their eyes black instead of brown, but there was no mistaking that face: that boy…w̸̞̣͌a̷̮͋͒s̷̗̎ ̶̢͉͌͋y̷̗̘̾͂ó̶̙u̷̟̬̾̀.̴̬̄̽
You watch as the boy sweeps their hair back and continues walking. A familiar school enters your line of sight—Gyeongju Middle School. The desks were cleaner, the walls were another color, but the stray scratch on the ceiling was still there. The shoe lockers were the same. Everything was similar, yet different.
The boy seems to have your instincts, too. Without explanation, they take the long way home, avoiding a robbery, and they walk past a crying woman, later found to be a serial kidnapper. As you watch the boy relive memories you had long forgotten, something changes: instead of calling the police, the boy runs up to the lone lady and hugs her. [Eomma! Let’s go see Appa!]
In the corner of the boy’s eyes, you see the masked men freeze. The boy motions the lady down and whispers, [Weird adults are behind us.] Louder, he says, [So I wanna surprise ‘im!] He grabs her hand and smiles. [Let’s go!]
He lets the lady lead them to a nearby police station and yawns as she converses with the head chief. You stare: had the head chief always been this expressive? You try and listen to the conversation, but it’s muted, almost like the boy isn’t paying attention to it. Instead, their focus is on the analog clock. From the time, you both can tell the boy’s perfect attendance is at risk.
Predictably, with one last look over his shoulder, the boy leaves and runs as fast as his legs allow. The bell rings two seconds after he crashes into the room with his bangs sticking to his face. The entire class stares at him, and he sighs.
Three years pass.
The boy turns 16 as he enters his second year of high school. You guess the orphanage also recorded his age wrong, but there’s no time to maul about it, as an unfamiliar face walks up to him and waves. [Hey, kid! Got a minute?]
When the boy, and you by extension, takes a step back, the person waves her hands. [Wait! I’m not weird, I swear!] Both of you stare at her, squinting, and she sighs. [Name’s Iseul. You know, the head chief’s sister? With all the gossiping aunties, I thought everyone knew that already… Anyway! Aren’t you the one who helped Min Jee three years ago?]
The boy nods, and “Iseul” smiles. [So I was right! Thanks for helping her by the way. I told her going up against such a large corporation would be dangerous, but you know how it is: justice never sleeps.] She digs into her pocket and hands him a business card. [And if there’s anything she hates more than corrupt businesses, it’s leaving favors unpaid. If you ever need help, call us.]
You take the card and watch as the person leaves. The card is pristine, and the business seems legitimate. When was the last time anyone ever repaid you for your actions?
The sun sets before you find it yourself to move.
Months pass, and the existence of otherworldly “rifts” has made itself known to the public when you meet Iseul again. This time, she’s with the lady—Min Jee, if you remember correctly. The two of them fuss over your thin frame and dump eight bags of groceries onto your hands before you can chase them away.
They keep coming back. You tell them you don’t need their charity, that you don’t need them to “repay” you for what you did for them, but neither of them listen. Iseul continues to ask about your day, and Min Jee continues to dump bags of snacks into your backpack when she thinks you aren’t looking.
You tell them you don’t care, but in truth, you are afraid. What would happen if they found out about your background? When they realize what kind of blood runs through your veins? But despite your fears, you can’t find it in yourself to push them away. They’re yours, in the way a lonely pair of swans will take in orphaned cygnets under their wings.
On the day of your graduation, they’re in the audience. You hold your diploma, with them your center of attention, struggling to hide your smile—when the ceiling cracks.
A̵̘̍ ̶̠̈́ğ̴̡͓́a̷̬̿͘t̸̗͎̎̈́é̴̞̭ ̵̼͘f̶̦̔o̸̼̳͛̐r̵̠͎̎m̵̪̥͋͝ş̸̢̽̏.̷̥̀͠
Red wolves with steel jaws emerge from the glowing rift, and every bone in your body freezes. You feel yourself lock up as the wolves—monsters, from how unnaturally their eyes glow—attack the audience.
Then the monsters turn their attention to…your mentors? Friends? (All you know is that you l̵͂ͅó̴̱v̷̠͑ë̸̩͓́̂ them.) Desperation outrides your fear, and you rush towards them. You come close, but Min Jee pushes you away just in time to prevent your death. [Live.]
Jaws rip them to shreds.
The hunters arrive, but you can’t speak. They probe, asking what happened, and you cry, your tears telling the story in your place.
In your grief, you remember how you would push them away. How much time you had with them, wasted in pointless fear.
And now they were gone.
They leave you in their will, but no amount of money can replace their presence.
You enlist in the military to release the anger you feel, but it doesn’t help.
So, you enroll in the Korean National Police University in honor of the justice they stood for.
Hunters start appearing in abundance, and you avoid the news when you can: you can’t bring yourself to remember what happened that day.
You’re in college when that changes.
At the age of 19, you see one of Korea’s strongest hunters go missing. It was a gate, unpromptedly opened in an amusement park: the screams of the dead clashed with the music, the same way your graduation anthem played in the background of the slaughter that day. You’re brought back to reality when the broadcast presumes the man to be dead.
The news continues, but it’s not their words that draw your attention.
A boy, undoubtedly a middle-schooler, was all that remained in the carnage. Even if the news didn’t state it, your instincts screamed that the boy was that hunter’s son. Your eyes widen: in going back to save his colleagues, he had left his son behind.
The people around you celebrate the victory over those magic beasts, but all you can see is the loss, the families that were ripped apart.
Your body moves on autopilot as you go back to your dorm. Why did you want to become a police officer? Yes, you wanted to honor their legacy, but beyond that… The police punish perpetrators, but you wanted more than that: your desire to protect outweighed your want to judge.
The broadcast replayed in your mind.
Hunters were risking their lives to protect people.
But…who were protecting the hunters?
Some of them had banded together to conquer these dungeons, but there was no system or institution to protect them beyond the guilds they made.
In that moment, you knew: in the way you couldn’t before, you wanted to prevent people from experiencing what you had. You wanted to protect those who didn’t have anyone else looking out for them, like they did for you.
You drop out of the police university and pursue a degree in business. Unfortunately, the credits don’t transfer over, so you graduate in four years. Around this time, a man, Go Gunhee, creates an association based on America's Federal Bureau of Hunters.
Every thought in your brain screams at you to join. That they need you as much as you need them.
So you prepare for the interview. You begin to sign the documents when—
A new source of power surges through you, and the pen in your hands molds to the shape of your fingers. Outside your window, a gate opens. Without a second thought, you jump down the emergency staircase and run towards the scene.
“Your” time stops.
————
“ ꃅꍟ was right… ”
Jinchul froze. That voice… “What are you talking about?”
“ Just as you’ve seen my past, I have seen yours. I originally doubted ꃅꀤꌗ words, but seeing it for myself… ”
Before he could inquire more about that statement, the voice overlapped with a lilac display: “ I entrust my time to you. ” // [ I entrust my time to you. ]
————
Jinchul’s eyes snapped open. His head pounded, and he looked around. Those memories…am I inside a dungeon? There were monster carcasses all around him, dried blood on his knuckles, and a blaring screen in front of him: [ Congratulations! You have been transported to the body of “Woo Jinchul”. Exit the dungeon to continue. ]
He blinked. We have the same name? From what little he knew from his coworkers, that was rare for most transmigration manhwa. Then again, he was the worst candidate to choose for this: he didn't care for dating, nor did his memories fit the circumstance. Instead of a medical degree or unique game knowledge, all he had were habits of a tired businessman with the unprompted tendency to get himself into business that wasn’t his.
A sigh left him, and he stood up, dusting his knees off. The screen followed him, but slipped through his fingers when he tried holding it. Beyond it was a sparkling crystal. Huh, I wonder what that is.
Bending down, he picked the white, star-shaped stone and turned it around in his palm. The energy radiating off of it… It seems to be some sort of enhancer?
The translucent screen shoved its way into his line of sight: [ Achievement: Getting Sidetracked ] // [ Description: Get sidetracked during a simple, straightforward objective. ]
Fine, I’ll go now. Geez. “Thank you for your patience. I will get going as soon as possible.”
He froze. Did I…just filter myself?
He tried again. I think I’m going to pass out after my fourth shot of espresso. “I apologize: I am currently unavailable to answer your query.”
What the fuck.
[ OOC is prohibited at the moment. Exit the dungeon to continue. ]
Jinchul pinched his nose and took a deep breath. Just what have I gotten myself into?