Day 2. Forty-two days until the Gate Break.
Han Sera stayed late after class again.
It wasn't dedication that kept her there—though her instructor would never believe that. It was desperation. Pure, unadulterated desperation.
She watched the last of her classmates leave the training hall, their voices echoing down the corridor about plans to grab dinner or hit the karaoke rooms in Gangnam. Normal eighteen-year-old things. Things she used to do before the Hunter Exam changed everything.
Before she learned she was an F-Rank failure.
"You'll be fine, Sera," her mother had said when the results came in. "F-Rank just means you need more training. You'll improve."
But that wasn't how the hunter world worked. Your rank at eighteen determined your ceiling. F-Ranks became D-Ranks if they were lucky. Most stayed F-Rank forever, taking safe jobs as porters or dungeon support staff.
Her dreams of becoming a frontline hunter, of making a difference like the legendary Kang Minho? Dead before they began.
*But I can still try*, she thought, moving to the training dummy in the corner. *Even if no one believes in me anymore.*
She executed the basic sword form her instructor had demonstrated that morning. Her movements were technically correct—she'd practiced until muscle memory took over. But something felt off. Inefficient. Like she was working twice as hard for half the result.
The Class A students made it look effortless. Even Class B and C students moved with a fluid grace she couldn't replicate.
"What am I doing wrong?" she muttered, resetting her stance for another attempt.
"Your weight distribution is incorrect."
Sera spun around, her practice sword raised defensively. A man stood in the doorway—the new janitor she'd seen around campus. He was pushing a cleaning cart and looked thoroughly uninterested in her existence.
"I... what?"
The janitor didn't look at her, just moved his cart into the room and began wiping down the far mirrors. "You're putting sixty percent of your weight on your front foot. Should be fifty-five, forty-five distribution. Compromises your balance and wastes energy in your strike."
Sera lowered her sword slowly. "Are you... talking to me?"
"I'm talking to the training dummy. But if a student happens to overhear janitorial wisdom, that's not my problem." He sprayed cleaning solution on a mirror and wiped in methodical circles. "Left elbow is too far out, too. Creates an opening and reduces your power by about twenty percent. But what do I know? I just clean."
She stared at him. Was he serious? A janitor giving her combat advice?
But... she adjusted her weight distribution like he'd suggested. Fifty-five, forty-five. Brought her elbow in tighter. Executed the form again.
It felt... different. Smoother. More efficient.
"Better," the janitor said, still not looking at her. "Now you're only wasting fifteen percent of your energy instead of thirty. Repeat it five hundred times and your muscle memory might actually remember it."
"Five hundred times?" Sera's arms already ached from two hours of practice.
"Legendary Dragon Slayer Kang Minho used to practice basic forms a thousand times daily. But he was trying to reach SSS-Rank. You're just trying to survive, so five hundred should suffice." The janitor moved to another section of mirrors. "Of course, that's just what I heard. Could be myth."
Sera felt something stir in her chest. Hope, maybe. Or curiosity.
"How do you know about combat forms?"
"I clean a hunter academy. Occupational hazard. You see enough demonstrations, you pick things up." He finally glanced at her, his expression utterly neutral. "You planning to train or ask questions? Training hall closes in ninety minutes."
She gripped her practice sword tighter. "Train."
"Good answer."
The janitor went back to cleaning, ignoring her completely. But every ten minutes or so, as she practiced, he'd make an offhand comment while wiping down equipment.
"Hip rotation is weak. That's where your power comes from."
"You're telegraphing the strike. Your shoulder moves first. Amateur mistake."
"Breathing is wrong. Exhale on the strike, not before."
Each correction was delivered with the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list. But each one made her technique noticeably better.
After an hour, Sera's arms burned and sweat soaked her training uniform. But the form felt right for the first time since she'd learned it. Efficient. Powerful.
The janitor checked his watch. "Training hall closes in thirty minutes. Time for you to leave."
"Wait," Sera said. "Who are you? How do you know all this?"
He turned, and for just a moment, she saw something in his eyes. Something old. Tired. Dangerous.
Then he blinked and it was gone, replaced by the bored expression of a middle-aged janitor with sore feet.
"Kim Soo-hyun. I clean this building. That's all you need to know." He pushed his cart toward the door. "If you stay late again, try not to make a mess. These floors don't mop themselves."
He left without another word.
Sera stood alone in the training hall, her mind racing. That wasn't normal janitor behavior. The way he'd broken down her technique, the specific corrections, the reference to Kang Minho's training methods...
*Who is he really?*
---
Day 5. Thirty-nine days until the Gate Break.
Soo-hyun had expected Han Sera to be suspicious. What he hadn't expected was for her to start researching him.
"The new janitor is weird," he overheard her telling a classmate during lunch break. He was cleaning windows nearby—invisibly, as always. "He knows way too much about combat."
"Maybe he was a failed hunter," her friend suggested. "Lots of washouts take academy jobs."
"Maybe..."
But she didn't sound convinced.
That evening, she stayed late again. And again, Soo-hyun was there, "cleaning" while she practiced.
This time, he said nothing. Just worked in silence, occasionally adjusting a training dummy's position or moving equipment to different spots.
Sera noticed immediately.
"You moved the dummies," she said, not quite accusatory.
"Cleaning requires moving things. Basic janitorial fact."
"They're positioned in a specific pattern. Combat stance positions."
Soo-hyun looked up from his mop, expression bland. "Are they? How strange. Must've been the previous janitor."
She studied the pattern—five dummies arranged at precise angles and distances. Then she looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You want me to practice combination strikes."
"I want clean floors. What students do with training equipment is not my concern."
He went back to mopping, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Sera approached the dummy pattern. She studied it for a long moment, then began moving through a combination sequence—strike, pivot, block, counterstrike.
It was sloppy at first. She couldn't maintain the rhythm. But she kept trying, adjusting, improving.
*Good*, Soo-hyun thought. *She's a fast learner.*
After thirty minutes, she had the basic pattern down. Not perfect, but functional.
"The timing is still off," he said, not looking up from his mopping. "You're pausing between movements. Combat doesn't pause. One motion flows into the next. Like water."
"Easy for you to say."
"The Moonlight Sword Style that your instructor teaches emphasizes fluid transitions. But she's teaching you the modified version—the one designed for F-Rank students. Slower. Safer. Less effective." He dunked his mop in the bucket, wrung it out. "The original version is what you just attempted. Almost had it, too."
Sera froze. "How do you know about Moonlight Sword Style?"
"Academy library has books. Janitors get bored on night shifts. Sometimes we read." He moved to a different section of floor. "Not my business what students learn or don't learn. I just clean."
She watched him for a long moment. Then, without a word, she returned to the dummies and tried the sequence again. This time, she focused on fluidity. Letting each movement flow into the next without pause.
It was better. Still rough, but the foundation was there.
Soo-hyun allowed himself a small smile as he mopped.
She was starting to understand. The secret wasn't just technique—it was philosophy. Understanding *why* movements worked, not just *how* to execute them.
In his original timeline, Han Sera had died because she'd been taught to survive, not to fight. She'd been given the safe, watered-down techniques appropriate for her rank.
But appropriate techniques wouldn't save her from a C-Rank Gate Break.
Only real skills would.
---
Day 8. Thirty-six days until the Gate Break.
"You're training me, aren't you?"
Soo-hyun didn't stop scrubbing the training mat. "I'm cleaning. You're training yourself. Two separate activities."
"You've been leaving me clues. Repositioning equipment. Making comments. Testing me." Han Sera stood over him, arms crossed. "Why?"
"I've been doing my job," he replied. "If you're projecting meaning onto random janitorial tasks, that's a personal problem."
"Stop dodging. Who are you really?"
Soo-hyun sat back on his heels, looking up at her. The girl was persistent. Intelligent. And unfortunately, getting too close to the truth.
Time for a calculated risk.
"I'm someone who hates wasted potential," he said quietly. "I've seen talented people die because they weren't properly trained. Because instructors taught them 'safe' techniques instead of effective ones. Because the system decided they were F-Rank and not worth the effort." He stood, meeting her eyes. "You practice alone for two hours every day. You adjust your technique based on random comments from a janitor. You don't give up. That's not F-Rank mentality. That's fighter mentality."
Sera's expression softened slightly. "But why help me? What's in it for you?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He picked up his cleaning supplies. "I'm just a janitor who talks too much. If you happen to become a better fighter because of random conversations, that's coincidence."
"I don't believe you."
"Doesn't matter what you believe. Matters what you do." He walked toward the door, then paused. "Class F has dungeon practical training in four weeks. C-Rank dungeon. Your instructor will tell you it's safe, supervised, impossible to fail. She's wrong. Three years ago, a student died in that exact dungeon because he couldn't handle an unexpected monster surge."
Sera's face went pale. "How do you know that?"
"Janitors hear things. We're invisible. People talk freely around us." He met her eyes. "Four weeks. If you want to survive, you need to be able to fight properly. Not safely. Properly. Your choice whether you take advice from a weird janitor or trust the system that ranked you F."
He left before she could respond.
Behind him, he heard her footsteps returning to the training dummies. The sound of practice strikes resumed, more determined than before.
**[QUEST UPDATE: Han Sera's Trust - 35%]**
**[WARNING: Student is becoming suspicious of your identity]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: Maintain distance while continuing training]**
Soo-hyun smiled grimly as he pushed his cart down the empty hallway.
She was suspicious. Good. Suspicious students paid attention. Suspicious students questioned what they were taught and looked for better answers.
He'd rather have a suspicious student who survived than a trusting one who died.
---
Day 12. Thirty-two days until the Gate Break.
Han Sera wasn't the only one who noticed the strange janitor anymore.
"Did you see Class F?" a Class B student whispered in the hallway while Soo-hyun cleaned nearby. "Sera did a perfect Moonlight Counter in sparring today. Jin-woo said it was A-Rank level execution."
"Isn't she F-Rank?"
"Yeah, that's what's weird. She's been improving crazy fast. Like, suspiciously fast."
Soo-hyun kept his expression neutral, but internally he was pleased. Sera's improvement was noticeable but not impossible. She was simply learning techniques properly instead of the dumbed-down versions.
Still, attention was dangerous.
That evening, when Sera arrived for her usual late training, she found a note taped to her regular dummy:
*"Too much attention is dangerous. Practice at home for the next week. Return when others forget about you. - The Janitor Who Talks Too Much"*
She read it twice, then crumpled it in her fist, frustration evident on her face.
But she left.
Soo-hyun watched from the shadows, satisfied. She was smart enough to understand. Drawing attention this early would bring questions, inspections, interference.
Better to let her improvement seem gradual.
Of course, that didn't mean her training would stop.
He pulled out his phone and sent an anonymous message to a burner email he'd set up in her name—one she'd find in her academy inbox:
*"Basic mana circulation exercises attached. Practice daily. Don't ask where this came from. - Someone Who Doesn't Want You Dead"*
The attachment contained modified breathing exercises he'd developed over twenty years of combat. Not flashy. Not powerful. But foundational techniques that would triple her mana efficiency within a month.
He closed his phone and returned to his cleaning.
Thirty-two days until the Gate Break.
It wasn't enough time. Not really.
But Kang Minho had done impossible things before.
And Kim Soo-hyun, invisible janitor, would do them again.
---
Day 15. Twenty-nine days until the Gate Break.
The System window appeared while Soo-hyun was mopping the administration hallway at 2 AM:
**[QUEST PROGRESS UPDATE]**
**[Han Sera - Current Combat Rating: F+ → D-]**
**[Improvement Rate: Exceptional]**
**[Survival Probability in Original Timeline Gate Break: 12% → 34%]**
**[WARNING: Still insufficient for survival]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: Increase training intensity]**
Soo-hyun frowned at the numbers. Thirty-four percent wasn't good enough. Not even close.
He needed to push harder. But direct training was too risky now. Other instructors were noticing Sera's improvement. Questions were being asked.
He needed a different approach.
An idea formed. Dangerous. Completely against academy regulations. Possibly insane.
But it might work.
He pulled out his phone and composed another anonymous message:
*"Tomorrow night. 11 PM. Old storage building behind the training grounds. Come alone. Bring your practice sword. If you tell anyone, I disappear forever. Your choice. - The Janitor"*
He hit send before he could reconsider.
Either she'd come and he could accelerate her training, or she'd report him and he'd have to find another way.
Tomorrow would decide how this story continued.
Soo-hyun finished mopping the hallway and checked his watch.
3:17 AM.
Twenty-nine days until everything went wrong.
Unless he could make one F-Rank student strong enough to change fate.
*No pressure*, he thought wryly, and pushed his cart toward the next hallway.
Just another night for Seoul Hunter Academy's strangest janitor.