Yoon Taesung didn't go home right away.
He walked.
Not because he had anywhere to go, or anyone waiting but because walking meant thinking, and thinking at least gave his feet somewhere to land, even if his thoughts never did.
The envelope still sat in his jacket pocket, crumpled now from how many times his hand had clenched around it. He didn't need to pull it out. He could still see the single line printed across the paper as if it had been burned behind his eyes.
[Rank: C]
It shouldn't have surprised him. C was… common. Average. A ceiling you couldn't complain about, even if it felt like the floor for everyone else.
But it did surprise him. Because deep down under the tired part of himself that pretended not to care he'd hoped.
He'd hoped, even just a little, to be seen. Not special. Not the best. Just seen.
The sky was grey, evening light fading behind a blanket of heavy clouds. Seoul in winter was always colder than he remembered, and tonight the wind scraped through the alleys like it had something to prove.
Taesung pulled his hood tighter.
There wasn't much traffic around this part of town. The Evaluation Center was on the edge of downtown, surrounded by older buildings that had been repurposed too many times to count. Once, this area had been a shipping district now it was mostly cafeterias and waiting halls.
Behind him, the building lights buzzed faintly and then died out one by one.
His phone buzzed.
[Mom]
> Did it go okay?
Call me when you can. I made that soup you like.
He stared at the message.
Typed half a reply. Deleted it.
Typed again.
> Yeah. Everything's fine.
He didn't hit send.
Instead, he slid the phone back into his pocket and turned the corner, heading into the long stretch of road that led toward the river. That was the thing about evaluations they told you what you were. But they never told you why.
And definitely not how to live with it
The riverfront was quiet.
Few people came out this way after dark, and the Rift warning lights were dim but ever-present blue beacons pulsing every thirty seconds along the shoreline, a constant reminder that this world wasn't quite the one they'd been born into.
The first Rift had opened thirty years ago.
Taesung hadn't even been born then, but everyone grew up with the stories. About the monsters. The hunters. The Breach Zones. The great cities lost in minutes. The rankings.
Always the rankings.
They evaluated everyone by the time they turned seventeen. Some people awakened with talents. Others didn't. And those talents… they didn't always make sense. You could have the power to freeze steel but not the heart to fight. Or the strength to tear through walls but a Rank so low no guild would look at you twice.
That was the thing no one said out loud: Rank wasn't about power. It was about potential.
What the system thought you could become.
And once it labeled you C, in Taesung's case that was that. No re-dos. No second chances.
He sat on one of the benches overlooking the dark water and exhaled slowly.
"I'm not surprised," he murmured, more to the wind than himself. "Just tired."
A shadow passed behind him. Quick. Too light to be a person. He turned but nothing.
Probably just a rat. Or his imagination.
He leaned back, staring up at the first stars flickering through the grey.
So this is it.
No letters from guilds. No scouts at the door. No dream contract waiting to be signed. He'd always known his skill was strange. Unreadable. The evaluators hadn't even bothered naming it they just wrote "Null Read" under the skill line, like it was an error in their system.
The only thing that had come through clearly was the Rank.
C.
Mid-tier. Technically eligible for low-level hunts if a team picked him up. But even that was unlikely. No one wanted a C-rank with an unreadable skill. Too much risk. Too little return.
He rubbed his eyes.
"You should go home," he told himself.
But he didn't.
Instead, he listened to the silence, to the wind, to the faintest hum from across the river, where a Rift beacon blinked red just once before returning to blue.
He frowned.
Red meant instability.
His phone buzzed again. Another message from his mom. This time he didn't read it. Just watched the river and tried to remember when exactly his life had started feeling like this like something happening to someone else.
Behind him, someone approached.
Light footsteps. Purposeful.
He turned.
It was a girl. Maybe his age. Slim, short black hair, wearing a heavy winter jacket and gloves. She looked like someone who didn't want to be noticed but never quite managed to blend in.
"You're not supposed to be here after dark," she said plainly.
Taesung blinked. "Neither are you."
She shrugged. "I'm not the one sulking."
"Not sulking."
"Whatever you say."
She moved past him and leaned on the railing, watching the river like it had something interesting to say. After a moment, she added, "You got evaluated today."
It wasn't a question.
Taesung stiffened. "Yeah."
"C?"
"...Yeah."
She nodded, like that confirmed something. "You don't look surprised."
"I'm not."
"But disappointed."
He didn't answer.
The girl turned to face him. "I'm Harin."
"Taesung."
She nodded again, then looked back at the water.
"Did you get evaluated?" he asked.
"B," she said. "But only barely. My skill's not flashy. More like… support."
"Support's still useful."
"Not in solo rankings. And guilds want flashy."
They were quiet for a while.
Finally, Taesung stood. "I should head back."
"You'll figure it out," she said.
"Figure what out?"
"What you're really capable of."
He stared at her.
"You don't know me."
"Nope," she said, smiling faintly. "But I know that look. The one people get when they think everything's already over."
He didn't know what to say.
So he didn't say anything.
Just nodded once, then turned and walked back the way he came.
Somewhere beneath the city, deep below the ground in places people had long stopped exploring, something stirred.
Not a Rift.
Not yet.
But close.
Closer than it had ever been.
And when it came through when the line between what was possible and what was buried finally broke Yoon Taesung's name would mean something.
But for now
He was just a C.
And that had to be enough.