Chapter Text
Jinwoo is fully aware of the fact that he is very much not attractive. The doting grandma living next door or the fretting healer in his party might find him cute, but only in the way one would find a tiny, pitiful kitten cute. There’s really nothing more to it.
He’s not attractive, and he’s never been attractive, but he’s also never really cared. Things like dating don’t really occur to you when you’re actively avoiding death or struggling to pay for groceries. He doesn’t care, hasn’t for a long time, and doesn’t really see that changing any time soon.
After all, he’s either stuck recovering from an injury or struggling through a raid with crappy equipment and one foot in the grave. Over and over, he fights and almost dies and then fights again, barely scraping by while struggling to stay sane.
Then, he wakes up in a hospital bed, lungs choking on nonexistent blood, pain wracking his body from nonexistent wounds. He tries to breathe, to calm down, to accept that it was a dream, that it must have been a dream.
That all those people are alive, and fine, and he’s fine, and nothing happen-
A warm hand presses against his back, soft and gentle as a kind voice drags him away from the suffocating panic that was wrapped around his neck. It doesn’t grab him, doesn’t try to shake him out of it, simply a firm presence that pulls him away from the harrowing images in his head.
Chief Inspector Woo Jin-Chul. He’s a kind man, with deep black eyes and dirty blond hair, one strand hanging loose as though no amount of product could keep it in place. He’s careful, calm, and explains everything without even a hint of the usual impatience.
Jinwoo wants to appreciate the view, to relax, and forget that horrible dream and move on.
Only, it wasn’t a dream.
It wasn’t a dream; those people are dead, and no one knows what really happened.
Not even handsome, kind, gentle Chief Woo, who looks like he should know everything.
For half a second, Jinwoo feels a sliver of desperation, of bloody hope as they read his mana, but that hope is thrown out the window just as it always is, leaving him with no answers and an empty room.
All thoughts of handsome Chief Woo go out the exact same window, mind moving on to the next thing as it always does. The screen hovering above his head is important, a fuzzy memory of having seen it before distracting him from everything else.
Because, in the end, it doesn’t matter how attractive he finds others. There’s no way they would return those feelings, so there’s no reason to dwell on a pointless endeavor. Instead, he needs to figure out how to move on from this, how to get up and keep going.
He has to keep going. He has to.
There’s no other option.
Woo Jinchul would like to think that he is a good judge of character. All the hunters he cherry-picked to work in his division have consistently overperformed in their roles, and most of the hunters he monitors tend to follow his expectations at least somewhat closely.
The only members of his team he can’t help but be wary around were assigned to him, and he wouldn’t be surprised if said assigning was meant to be nothing more than another job for him. Another person to read. Another hunter to monitor.
That’s why, when he sees Hunter Sung, he can’t help but want to reach out and offer some sort of safety net. Yes, he read the boy’s file, read about a sick mother and a missing father and a teenage sister who wants to go to medical school, but reading about someone and actually seeing them are two entirely different things.
Of course, at first, Sung simply looks like a panicking child, struggling to breathe, fingers gripping his throat as though something is choking him. But a few seconds of patience and a couple of kind words later, the image in front of him speaks of far more than what could be read in a file.
Sung Jinwoo looks like a good person. He looks kind, but not naïve, a wisdom in his eye that Jinchul tends to see in experienced hunters. He looks like someone who’s seen the worst of the world and chose to make the best of it despite that.
He looks like someone whom Jinchul would be open to working with. Someone he’d be willing to bet on.
And if Jinchul also feels like they could go out to grab a coffee together sometime, that doesn’t really matter. After all, Hunter Sung needs to focus on himself right now. Specifically, on recovering from this horrific experience.
It is unfortunate that they have no answers to their questions, but it’s not Sung’s job to piece things together for them. At least, not yet.
It doesn’t take long for Jinchul to write up the first draft of a job offer, and it takes even less time to refine it. Unfortunately, it does take time to find a gap in his schedule that would allow him to deliver said job offer.
But that’s fine too, because he already has an address in case he doesn’t return to the hospital in time, and a phone number if that fails as well.
He is head of the monitoring division, after all.
Exactly one day after waking up in the hospital, Sung Jinwoo is nearly labeled clinically insane when he gets out of bed and starts exercising as though his life depends on it. A young doctor buts in, telling them that hunters tend to do strange things after getting injured, saving Jinwoo the embarrassment of a psych eval as he struggles to avoid returning to that downright terrifying desert.
Not long after that, he leaves the hospital, telling them he’ll be back soon and promptly breaking that promise as he struggles to, once again, not die. Jinwoo leaves his first instance dungeon, hoping he never has to do something like that again, while simultaneously knowing he most definitely will if he wants to get stronger.
And he does. He does want to get stronger. He needs to get stronger. He needs to improve, learn, be better, do better. He needs it, needs it like he needs water, needs it like he needs air.
He doesn’t get another key while stuck in the hospital, going through the motions, exercising over and over as his body grows lighter and stronger and, for some reason, taller. He can’t explain the change, but he couldn’t care less about his appearance. It’s never mattered before, so why would it matter now?
On the last day of his stay, Jinwoo is finishing his pushups when a knock echoes through the room. It’s firmer than the usual nurse, but it must be a nurse because he can’t think of anyone else who would be visiting him. Not with that kind of knock.
So, he tells them to come in, not particularly concerned with the fact that he has yet to put on a shirt. That lack of concern ends up biting him in the ass when a handsome Chief Inspector opens the door and promptly freezes in place like a startled cat.
It would be funny if Jinwoo weren’t so mortified, quickly jumping up and covering his embarrassing physique with a strangely tight shirt. It must have shrunk in the wash, for some reason.
“Uh… Hunter Sung?” The way the inspector says his name sounds like a question, like he’s making sure he has the right person. Kind of strange, but there’s no reason to read into it.
“Yes, sir.” He makes sure to keep his posture proper, hoping to avoid making an even worse impression than he already has. And it’s not just because he wants this person to like him.
Not in the slightest.
“Uh… Yes.” A slender hand lifts a thin pile of papers as the inspector (what was his name again?) clears his throat. “I see you’re feeling much better.”
Jinwoo watches closely as those thin fingers play with the edge of the top page. Pretty fingers. Very pretty fingers. He really needs to stop staring and open his damn mouth.
“Yes, sir.” The inspector (something with a W. Wen? Wei?) nods before jerking his hand forward, effectively handing over the papers. Jinwoo takes them with a bow, curious as to what they could be.
The inspector (Wul? Wol?) doesn’t speak at first, seemingly staring at nothing while Jinwoo reads the papers to the best of his ability. It looks legal, almost like a job application, but that wouldn’t really make sense.
“Uh… may I ask what these are, Chief-?” his eye flickers toward the edge of the paper. There! “Chief Woo?”
He looks up, happy that he was able to piece that name together before he had to use it. Only, Chief Woo doesn’t seem to notice his name being called, staring at a spot on Jinwoo’s shirt for some reason. Jinwoo looks down, wondering if he’s missing something, and looks back up with a furrowed brow when he’s unable to find anything out of place.
“Chief Woo?” That seems to break through the wall between them, black eyes turning confused for a second before widening ever so slightly.
“Right- ahem. I apologize. These are an… offer. For a job.” So, they are job-related. But an offer? To work at the association? That’s unusual.
“Oh! Uh…” Jinwoo pauses, unsure what to say. A short silence stretches between them until Chief Woo jerks ever so slightly, shaking his head for seemingly no reason before opening his mouth.
“My apologies, let me specify. It’s a job offer for a position on my personal team. I am aware that it’s not as cushy as hunting, but it’s far safer and offers better job security. I hope you don’t take it as an insult, I simply thought you might appreciate something more… stable.”
Jinwoo feels himself pause, realization dawning on him that this man must have done some research. Everyone who knows about his mom tells him he should go for a stable job, so it’s no surprise that someone as kind as Chief Woo would take pity on him.
And, honestly, Jinwoo probably would have taken the offer a week ago. But now…
“Thank you for the offer, sir. But…” He’s not sure what to say, not sure how to avoid looking like a fool holding onto a long-dead dream. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do anything; his thoughts cut off by a soft smile and gentle eyes.
“I understand. If you ever change your mind, my number is on the last page. I’m sorry for disturbing you on your last day.” Jinwoo wants to reach out, to tell this man that he’s welcome to disturb him any day of the week.
But that would be overstepping his bounds.
It’s easy as breathing to push down that urge and bow down in apology. The inspector bows in kind before turning around and walking out without a word.
It feels strange, like there’s something unspoken between them. He can’t help but think about it as he types the nurse’s number into his phone, hoping whatever tests she needs to send him won’t bring him back here.
This place reeks of death, after all. Even if it’s supposed to be a place of healing.
Jinchul walks out of Hunter Sung’s hospital room with a flush of embarrassment heating his cheeks. Sure, he wasn’t expecting the man to transform that drastically in such a short period of time, but that’s no excuse to ogle someone like a damn creep.
He feels like a creep, blasting the AC directly onto his face the second he turns on the company car. It doesn’t seem to help, an image of lean muscles and scattered scars popping in his head every time he thinks he’s calmed down.
Maybe it is just the surprise talking, so he tries to focus on his analytical brain instead of his less reasonable lizard brain. Thankfully, it works, questions popping up faster than he can answer them, as per usual.
A transformation like that is unusual to say the least. It’s possible for E ranks to build muscle and improve their reflexes, but that doesn’t explain the slight increase in height or the increased mana control.
Only mana control could let someone reduce the visible flow of their mana. Unless Hunter Sung somehow got weaker, which would make no sense, then he must have trained his mana control. Only—Jinchul has never heard of someone improving so quickly. It’s barely been two weeks, a frankly minuscule period of time.
See? Questions. He has many, and no easy way of answering them. Well, he could go back inside and ask said questions, but it’s not a crime to improve. It’s unusual, but not unheard of. It’s impossible to increase your magical power without a second awakening, but you can improve your other skills with consistent effort.
There’s no reason to waste precious time just to try to ease his curiosity. Hunter Sung looks different and has put an impressive amount of effort into improving. Hopefully, these improvements will help him avoid danger in future raids.
And hopefully, they will never see each other again, unless his job offer is accepted.
When Jinwoo gets home from the hospital, the first thing he does is make an unhealthy amount of homemade cheese noodles before inhaling all but one portion of it in a matter of minutes. Jinah would kill him if she learned he made food and didn’t save her any.
She still might kill him when she notices that he made far more than two servings.
The second thing he does is take a nice, long, boiling hot shower. The water at the hospital was disgustingly cold and had the pressure of a damn watering can. This apartment is old, but all the features are up to date, including the shower.
He can’t help but sigh in relief as the water flows down his back, letting the steam surround him like a warm hug. The minutes stretch by as he lets his muscles relax, only dragging himself away from the water when his phone buzzes on the counter.
Wonderful shower finished, Jinwoo answers Jinah’s text, wraps a towel around his waist, and walks to his room.
His bed is far more comfortable than he remembers, though the sheets are starting to fall apart at the seams. He’ll need to hurry up and make some money, hopefully enough to pay rent and buy some replacements for the many items that he can’t bring up the energy to repair.
The third thing Jinwoo does is get dressed. Or, at least, that’s what he tries to do. It starts off normal, but the shirt he slips on is too tight. He shrugs, peeling it off and going for a different one, tossing the first into the corner without a second thought.
Only… the second shirt is also too tight. And so is the third, and the fourth. It takes five tries to make him realize that it’s not the shirts, but him. He got bigger, somehow.
Must be the system.
Whatever. It’s not a big deal, so he grabs one of his overly baggy shirts and throws it on, looking at it with a grimace when it, too, feels slightly tight around the shoulders. At least it doesn’t make him look like a limp noodle.
Of course, all his pants end up being too short as well, so he ends up staring at the ceiling with his ankles bare to the world and his shirt one inch away from revealing his stomach.
Okay, yeah, he needs to go shopping.
But for now, he’s going to rest. He can worry about all that bullshit tomorrow, earn some money, and buy some baggy clothes from a local thrift store. That should work. If things go smoothly.
Hopefully, things go smoothly.