After testing Muay Thai at the gym, Han Joon-seong continued his training routine. He didn't do much that first day — he wasn't properly dressed for a full workout — but he did some basic training and went home. The next day, he returned and trained properly.
As he trained, he noticed something about his Strength.
The attribute didn't seem to translate perfectly to real weightlifting capacity. He knew that each point in Strength doubled his overall capability, and he had gained two points — so technically, he should be four times stronger. He had felt that increase during his fight with Choi Yuna. But in the gym, lifting weights, the translation wasn't the same.
Even though he felt four times stronger, he wasn't lifting four times the weight he had been lifting before. He was lifting a little more — maybe twenty kilograms more — but nowhere near quadruple.
More concerning than that, his XP gains had slowed down significantly, even for same amount of effort. And switching to training with heavier weights wasn't viable, he could lift and handle them for a while, but he tired too fast to gain any experience. he could only use his normal weights, which he could train with for longer with, but they gave him very little progress. It felt like he was hitting a wall.
Seok-ju, watching from nearby, was clearly shocked. From one day to the next, this guy had suddenly started lifting significantly more weight. But he got over it fairly quikly. Han Joon-seong was already an anomaly. He just shook his head and muttered something about Han Joon-seong being a prodigy.
Han Joon-seong didn't respond. He just kept training, deflecting any questions with vague answers.
But Ervin was thinking. 'So what does this mean? My Strength isn't translating to raw lifting capacity. I'm stronger, but I can't just increase the weight and gain more XP. If I try to lift double my previous max, I can manage it for a bit, but I tire out so fast that I don't gain any real experience from it. And if I stick with lighter weights, the gains are barely noticeable. I'm getting almost no XP from this anymore.'
He considered the implications. 'If I keep leveling my Strength, eventually lifting weights won't do anything at all. I won't be able to use heavier weights to train with, and lighter weights won't give me any progress. Could i be training the wrong way entirely? Maybe there's a better method — something that actually translates to combat strength, not just lifting capacity.'
He filed the question away for later. For now, he had more immediate concerns — like climbing the ranks of the Juhwang-pa.
He finished his training for the day and went home
[[System]
Player: Ervin Mandor
Character 1; Han Joon‑seong
[Characteristics:
Adaptation(Perfect)
Talent(Perfect)
Auto Pilot(Perfect)
Money(Perfect|Middle‑class)
Intuition (Lvl. 1)
Looks(Lvl. 5)
Speed(Lvl. 4)(15/80)
Strength (Lvl. 6)(1/320)
Endurance (Lvl. 5)(64/160)
Vigor (Lvl. 5)(27/160)
Intelligence (Lvl. 3)(28/40)
[Fighting|Muay Thai (Lvl. 1)]
[Tasks:
None]]
On his way home, his phone buzzed. A message from Han Do-yun.
"There's another job for you. Interested?"
Ervin's eyes lit up. 'Right when I was hoping for something.'
Han Joon-seong typed back immediately: "Yes. I'm ready."
Han Do-yun sent a location pin and a brief description. The job was in Sasang-dong, a district known for its small manufacturing shops and warehouses. The target was a counterfeit operation — they were taking expensive alcohol bottles, filling them with cheap liquor, and selling them as premium brands. In some cases, they were even adding toxic substances. They were also producing counterfeit cigarettes, poorly made and harmful. Han Do-yun didn't care about the public health risks of course. He just cared that they weren't paying their debts.
The debt was 160 million won.
Ervin whistled. '160 million. That's serious money.'
Han Joon-seong headed home, showered, and prepared for the mission. As he got ready, Ervin's mind wandered back to the lack of new tasks from the System.
'I still haven't received any new tasks. Why is that?'
He thought about it. 'Does the System have a limit on missions? If that's the case, then my life just got a lot harder. Earning points will be much more difficult without missions.'
But Intuition pulsed — correcting his assumption. 'No. That's not it. The System never said the missions were over. It just said there were no missions available at the moment. So I think there's just nothing for me to do right now that the System deems relevant or achievable. Maybe once I get stronger, more options will open up. Maybe defeating stronger enemies will unlock new tasks.'
He let the thought drift away. 'I'll deal with that later. For now, I have work to do.'
Han Joon-seong finished getting ready. He put on dark, practical clothes — nothing flashy, but of course, on Han Joon-seong it looked like designer clothes, delining his defined abs, pectorals and broad shoulders, and headed out the door.
He caught a bus and rode across the city, watching the familiar streets of his neighborhood give way to the older, more industrial areas of Sasang-dong. By the time he stepped off, the atmosphere had shifted entirely. The buildings were shorter, more worn. The streets were narrower, filled with small workshops and warehouses.
He checked his phone and confirmed the location. A warehouse at the end of a quiet street again, tucked between two larger buildings.
"Counterfeit operation in Sasang-dong"
"Debt owed to Juhwang-pa: 160,000,000 won"
"Collect the debt. You can destroy the operation if necessary."
Ervin read the description, then looked up at the warehouse ahead.
Han Joon-seong approached the warehouse door. As he got closer, the smell hit him — strong chemicals, solvents, something acrid that burned the nose. He wrinkled his face and fanned the air in front of him.
He reached the door and knocked. *Tap-tap.*
Silence.
He knocked again. *Tap-tap.*
Still nothing.
"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone home? I'd like to talk about some business."
No response. But he could still smell the chemicals from inside. at least someone had to be in there.
Han Joon-seong stared at the door for a moment, then let out a long sigh.
Up above, Ervin detached from the body. He spotted a small window near the roof and floated through it, entering the warehouse.
The interior was a mess. Barrels and containers were stacked everywhere, filled with chemicals and cheap alcohol. The operation was divided into roughly five sections — each one handling a different part of the counterfeiting process. One area seemed to be for mixing chemicals. Another for filling bottles. Another for labeling. Another for packaging. Another for storage.
Ervin floated above it all 'Yep. Definitely people here.'
He began searching for the leader. He didn't want to waste time fighting through every single thug like last time. He floated through the warehouse, passing over workers and guards, until he found a small room tucked away in the back. It had ventilation fans running, apparently to pull the chemical smells away from whoever was inside.
He passed through the vents and entered the room. Inside, a man sat at a desk, looking over papers. He had the look of someone in charge — well-dressed, relaxed, clearly the boss of this operation.
Ervin grinned. 'Jackpot.'
He pulled back, returning to Han Joon-seong.
Ervin came back and began thinking.
*Alright. I don't think Han Joon-seong can punch through walls just yet. And even if he could, it would probably mess up his hands. So I'm going to have to go through all the goons anyway, what a shame.*
He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his foot, and kicked the door.
*CRASH!*
The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Inside, the workers and guards turned, startled. For a moment, no one moved.
Then chaos erupted.
"What the—?!"
"Someone broke in!"
"Who the hell is that?!"
"Get him!"
Han Joon-seong stepped through the doorway, walking calmly into the warehouse.
"Alright, alright," he said, his voice carrying through the room. "Fun's over. I'm here from the Juhwang-pa. You owe us money. Pay up, and I'll leave. If you don't want to pay, well..." He cracked his neck. "I'll have to get creative."
The workers were panicking, running around, grabbing whatever they could find. Some of them weren't even listening. They were too busy scrambling to react.
Han Joon-seong stood there, watching them, theycompletely ignored his words.
Finally, one of them grabbed a weapon — something sharp, like a knife or a makeshift blade — and charged at him.
Han Joon-seong sighed. "Yeah. I tried."
He walked forward, hands still in his pockets. As the man got close, Han Joon-seong raised both hands into the Muay Thai stance. Then he threw a punch — fast, so fast that no one could see it coming.
*THWACK!*
The man went stiff for a moment, still standing. Then he took two shaky steps forward and collapsed to the ground.
The others stared, confused. They hadn't understood what had just happened since the attack was too fast.
Another guard charged. Han Joon-seong threw a kick — a blur of motion later — and the man dropped instantly.
Another one. A punch to the face. Down.
He started working through them. One by one, they fell. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
Han Joon-seong moved through the warehouse, disabling anyone who got in his way. He wasn't breaking a sweat. The thugs were too slow, too weak. It was almost boring.
He let out a sigh, slightly disappointed. 'I wish there was a faster way to deal with these minions. Is there a characteristic that helps with that?'
He kept walking, knocking down anyone who approached.
Then, from the back of the warehouse, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Who the hell are you?"
A man emerged from the shadows. He was older than the others, with a weathered face, a scar across his cheek, and skin that looked like it had seen too much sun. He moved with the swagger of a experienced fighter.
Han Joon-seong had just dropped another thug. He straightened his collar, adjusted his sleeve, and smoothed out his shirt.
"Debt collector from the Juhwang-pa," he said calmly. "I'm here to collect the money you've been refusing to pay."
The scarred man spat on the ground. "And you think we're just going to hand over money to you? The Juhwang-pa has sent plenty of debt collectors here before. Every single one of them ended up in the hospital. You think you'll be any different?"
Han Joon-seong glanced at the twenty unconscious bodies scattered around him. He tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah. I think I am."
The scarred man snorted. Then he charged.
Han Joon-seong raised his Muay Thai guard. The man came at him with a weapon — some kind of makeshift spear made of pipe. He swung at Han Joon-seong's face. Han Joon-seong ducked. The man swung again from the other side. Han Joon-seong dodged again.
[Muay Thai (Lvl. 1) — Activated.]
Another notification appeared in his vision:
[Adaptation(Perfect) is activating.]
His stance shifted slightly, becoming more fluid. He started bouncing lightly on his feet, warming up his dodging rhythm.
The scarred man kept swinging, missing every time.
Han Joon-seong stepped in and threw a right kick — a Muay Thai strike that connected with the man's arm. He followed with a right punch. The man raised his other arm to block, but the impact was too strong and he skidded backward, smoke seemed to rise from the spot where Han Joon-seong had struck.
The man looked at his arm. It was already red and swollen. The pain was obvious on his face.
Han Joon-seong smiled slightly. "Finally."
From above, Ervin grinned. 'Finally. Now I'm the one landing the brutal hits.'
He launched forward again, throwing a kick. The scarred man raised his weapon to block. Han Joon-seong's kick connected with the body of the weapon — and the weapon bent, warping under the force.
The man's eyes went wide. He tried to retreat, but Han Joon-seong was already moving. He threw a knee strike upward. The man tried to block with his elbow, but the knee connected with his arm.
*CRACK.*
A sickening crunch echoed through the warehouse. The man grunted in pain, stumbling backward.
Han Joon-seong felt something shift in his own knee — a small crackle, something that suggested the impact had been hard on his joint too. But he ignored it.
The scarred man stumbled back, clutching his arm. His expression was a mixture of pain and disbelief.
Han Joon-seong advanced. He threw two punches — one to the right cheek, *THWACK*, then another from the left.
But as he wound up for the second punch, Ervin caught movement from the corner of his vision. Something coming from deeper in the warehouse.
*Intercept!*
Han Joon-seong raised his hand and caught something heavy. A brick.
He looked up.
Another man was walking out of the back. He was more muscular, more built than the scarred man. He looked at the scene — the unconscious bodies, the injured scarred man — and let out a laugh.
"How pathetic. Getting humiliated by a debt collector?"
The scarred man shouted back, desperation in his voice. "Shut up! Stop mocking me and help me!"
The muscular man waved a hand dismissively. "Alright, alright. Don't worry."
He started walking toward Han Joon-seong.
Han Joon-seong raised his Muay Thai guard again.
But before he could engage, the scarred man came at him from behind — a kick aimed at his back. It connected, sending Han Joon-seong stumbling forward a few steps.
The muscular man advanced and threw a punch. Han Joon-seong raised his arm to block. *THWACK!* He absorbed the blow, but the force pushed him back.
He dropped low, slipping between the two men, and distanced himself.
His expression turned serious. "Two strong guys this time. I think I'm in trouble."