The line at the Seoul Awakener Assessment Bureau stretched around the block. Even in the early hours of the morning, people were already fanning themselves with folded papers, sipping vending machine coffee, or staring blankly at the glass doors like the building might swallow them whole.
Yoon Taesung stood near the back, hands in his jacket pockets, his breath fogging faintly in the winter air. He'd been here since five a.m., and the line still hadn't moved much.
Someone coughed behind him. A woman checked her phone and sighed loudly. In front, a teenager in a varsity jacket bounced on his heels, eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement.
"You think they'll tell us the skill too?" the teen asked no one in particular.
A man beside him scoffed. "No. Just rank. Skill evaluations are locked unless you go private, and that costs."
The teen deflated. "Still… can't believe I might awaken today."
Taesung said nothing.
He wasn't here with dreams of glory. He wasn't chasing sponsorships or hoping for a broadcast deal. He didn't even have the money for private training if he got a decent rank.
He just needed the stipend.
If you were C-rank or higher, the government paid you a monthly base, no questions asked. A survival check for helping hold the world together.
He could live off that. Not well, but enough.
His mother's hospital bills weren't going away. And the cafe shifts weren't cutting it.
The line inched forward. Thirty more minutes.
When he finally passed through the Bureau doors, the change in air hit like a slap—cool, sterile, humming faintly with mana tech. An attendant waved him over with a practiced smile.
"ID?"
He handed it over. She scanned it, then gestured toward the far hallway.
"Room Twelve. Wait inside. You'll be called."
Taesung nodded and walked.
Room Twelve was empty when he arrived. Bare, clinical. Just a single padded chair in the center of the room and a large black screen on the far wall. No windows.
He sat. His fingers tapped against his leg. Once. Twice. Again.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the screen lit up.
"Yoon Taesung," a mechanical voice said. "Please remain still. Initiating rank scan."
The light shifted. He felt it move through him like a deep vibration in his bones. It wasn't painful. Just strange, like someone knocking gently on every cell in his body.
Then silence.
A single beep.
[Awakening Confirmed.]
[Rank: C]
He exhaled.
C.
It wasn't flashy, but it was enough.
The screen dimmed. The door opened.
A woman in a gray suit stood there, tablet in hand.
"Yoon Taesung?" she asked. "Please follow me."
He hesitated. "That's it? The rank—?"
"You'll receive the formal report by mail," she said, already turning. "Come on."
He followed her through a short hallway and into another room—this one filled with low hums of mana sensors and glowing arrays. A few other recently awakened were scattered around, being debriefed by staff. The woman led him to a corner desk.
"Sign here," she said, sliding the tablet toward him. "Confirmation of rank, waiver of liability, acknowledgment of standard benefits."
He skimmed the text. Signed.
She nodded. "You'll be added to the national database within 72 hours. Your stipend begins next month. If you'd like to apply for hunter certification, you can begin the training course here or at any partner guild."
Taesung blinked. "Wait, that's it?"
She gave him a tired smile. "That's it. Welcome to the system."
He left with a plastic card in his pocket.
C-Rank. Unassigned Skill.
The cold hit harder on the way out. Snow had started falling—light, drifting flakes that vanished on contact with the pavement.
No one waited for him outside.
He stopped by a convenience store on the walk home. Bought instant ramen, a single boiled egg, and a drink he couldn't really afford.
In his apartment—a narrow, third-floor walk-up with paper-thin walls—he sat at the table and stared at his rank card.
C.
It was what he needed. What he came for.
So why did it feel like a door had closed instead of opening?
He placed the card down and sighed. The kettle whistled.
Tonight, he'd eat. Tomorrow, he'd call about hunter certification. Maybe get assigned to a small team. Do enough to scrape by.
He didn't need to be a hero.
He just needed to survive.
Behind him, on the counter where he dropped it, the rank card flickered.
Just once.
And somewhere far beneath the city in a place no Bureau scan could see a mark shimmered quietly in the dark.