The Next Morning.
Sunlight streamed through the tinted windows of the black sedan as it navigated the busy streets of Seoul. Han-wool sat in the back, flipping through a tablet Logan had handed him.
On the screen was a dossier.
[Target: Baek Woojin]
[Age: 19]
[Rank: F (Awakened 2 months ago)]
[Family: Mother (Hospitalized), Father (Deceased)]
[Financial Status: Critical Debt]
"It is just as you suspected, Young Master," Logan said from the driver's seat. "Baek Woojin's mother, Park Su-min, is currently in the intensive care unit of Seoul Central Hospital. She suffers from 'Mana Deviation Syndrome'."
Han-wool's eyes narrowed. Mana Deviation. It was a common sickness for civilians living near unstable dungeon gates. The ambient mana corrupted their nervous system. The cure wasn't magical; it was financial. It required daily dialysis with expensive purified mana stones.
"The hospital is threatening to discharge her by noon today due to unpaid bills," Logan continued. "Woojin has been visiting loan sharks."
"Loan sharks..." Han-wool shut the tablet with a snap. "If he goes to them, his life is over. They'll sell him to a mining guild, and his talent will rot in a cave."
In the previous timeline, that was exactly what happened. Woojin spent five years as a slave miner before accidentally discovering his true potential. By then, his mother was dead, and his heart was broken.
"Drive faster, Logan," Han-wool ordered.
"We're going to the hospital."
Seoul Central Hospital, Lobby.
The smell of antiseptic was overwhelming.
Baek Woojin stood at the reception desk, his head bowed so low it looked like his neck might snap. He was wearing the same worn-out tracksuit he had worn to the dungeon raid.
"Please," Woojin begged, his voice cracking. "Just one more week. I... I cleared a dungeon yesterday! The payment is coming! I just need a few days for the settlement!"
The receptionist, a man with tired eyes, sighed and tapped his keyboard. "Mr. Baek, we've given you two extensions already. The treatment costs 5 million won per week. Your account is 15 million won in arrears. Policy is policy."
"But if you stop the treatment, she'll die!" Woojin grabbed the counter, his knuckles white. "She's all I have!"
"Sir, please lower your voice or I'll call security."
Woojin trembled. He felt the gazes of people in the lobby—pity, annoyance, indifference. He felt small. Powerless.
I'm trash, Woojin thought, tears stinging his eyes. Brother Sung Jin-Woo told me I wasn't trash... but look at me. I can't even save my own mother.
He reached into his pocket, clutching the crumpled piece of paper the mysterious porter had given him.
'I'll be in touch.'
It was probably a lie, Woojin thought bitterly. Why would anyone help a failure like me? He was just being nice.
"Security!" the receptionist called out as Woojin refused to move.
Two burly guards started walking toward the desk. Woojin squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the humiliation of being dragged out.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sharp sound of dress shoes on marble cut through the noise of the lobby. It was a confident, rhythmic sound that made people instinctively step aside.
"Excuse me," a calm voice spoke.
Woojin opened his eyes.
A boy—no, a young kid—stood next to him. He looked no older than thirteen. He was dressed in a tailored black suit that cost more than Woojin's entire life earnings. He wore dark sunglasses, and behind him stood an elderly butler who radiated a dangerous aura.
The receptionist straightened up immediately. "Y-Yes, young sir? How can I help you?"
The boy didn't look at the receptionist. He looked straight at Woojin.
"You look terrible, Woojin."
Woojin blinked, confused. He had never met this rich kid in his life. But the tone... the cadence... it felt strangely familiar.
"Who... who are you?" Woojin stammered.
The boy pulled out a black credit card—the Black Lotus Card, issued only to VVIPs of the Hunter Association. He placed it on the counter with two fingers.
"Pay his bill," the boy ordered.
The receptionist stared at the card. "Sir? The bill is 15 million won..."
"Did I stutter?" The boy lowered his sunglasses slightly, revealing sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed far too old for his face. "Pay the arrears. And pay for the next year of treatment in advance. Put Mrs. Park in a VIP suite."
The lobby went silent. Even the security guards stopped in their tracks.
"Y-Yes! Right away, sir!" The receptionist frantically began typing.
Woojin stood frozen, his mouth agape. "W-Why...?"
The boy turned to him. A small, familiar smirk played on his lips.
"I told you I'd be in touch."
Woojin's brain short-circuited. Those words.
'I'll be in touch.'
That was exactly what the porter, Sung Jin-Woo, had said before disappearing into the alley.
"Brother... Sung?" Woojin whispered, terrified to say the name aloud. But he looked at the boy again. "But... you're a child?"
"Not here," the boy cut him off smoothly. He turned to Logan. "Handle the paperwork.
Bring Woojin to the car when he's done seeing his mother."
"Understood, Young Master."
Thirty Minutes Later.
Woojin sat in the back of the black sedan, looking dazed. He had just seen his mother moved to a private room that looked like a hotel suite. The doctors, who had ignored him an hour ago, were now bowing to him.
He looked at the person sitting across from him.
Kim Han-wool.
Woojin recognized him now. Everyone in Korea knew the Kim family. And everyone knew about the "Failure of the Kim Family," the 13-year-old Red Grade Thief.
"So..." Woojin started, his voice shaking. "You aren't Sung Jin-Woo. You're Kim Han-wool. The F-Rank form the Sword Saint family."
"Sung Jin-Woo is a fake identity," Han-wool admitted, crossing his legs.
"But..." Woojin scratched his head, completely bewildered. "In the dungeon, you were a grown man! You were taller than me! You had a beard stubble! How can a 13-year-old turn into a 30-year-old man?"
Han-wool chuckled. He raised his right hand. On his index finger was a simple silver band.
"Logan gave me this," Han-wool explained, tapping the ring. "The Ring of Deceit. It's a B-Rank artifact that casts a illusion over the user's body. It changes height, voice, and appearance."
"A Ring of Deceit..." Woojin muttered. "I've heard of them. They cost billions."
"To protect my identity, it was a necessary expense," Han-wool said. "I can't exactly run around raiding dungeons as the Kim Family Young Master without drawing attention."
Han-wool leaned forward, the atmosphere in the car shifting. The kindness vanished, replaced by the pressure of a predator.
"I didn't do this out of charity, Baek Woojin. I am a Thief. I don't give gifts; I make investments."
Han-wool pointed a finger at Woojin's chest.
"I bought your mother's life. Now, I own yours."
Woojin swallowed hard. It should have been terrifying. But strangely, hearing those words gave him a sense of relief. He didn't want charity. Charity was fleeting. A deal... a deal meant he had value.
"What... what do you want me to do?"
Woojin asked, his eyes firming up. "I'm just a Failure Rank like you. I have a trash skill."
"Trash?" Han-wool scoffed. "Open your Status Window."
"Huh?"
"Do it."
Woojin hastily muttered, "Status Window."
Han-wool's eyes glowed with a faint red light as he activated Eye of the Thief.
> [Target: Baek Woojin]
> [Class: Sniper (Red Grade -> Evolving)]
> [Skill: Good Eyes (Lv. 1)]
> [Potential: SSS]
>
"Your skill, «Good Eyes»," Han-wool explained. "You think it just lets you see far away? You're using it wrong. You aren't an archer, Woojin. Bows are for people who rely on muscle."
Han-wool reached into a bag at his feet. He didn't pull out a bow.
He pulled out a sleek, metallic case. He unlocked it, revealing a weapon that hummed with terrifying power.
It was a gun.
A matte-black hand cannon, engraved with glowing blue runes along the barrel. It looked like a modern Desert Eagle mixed with ancient magic technology.
"This," Han-wool said, handing it to Woojin, "is the S-Rank Mana Gun: 'Star Piercer'."
Woojin gasped, almost dropping it. "S-Rank? A gun? But... guns don't work on high-level monsters! Bullets can't pierce their hide!"
"Physical bullets can't," Han-wool corrected. "But this doesn't fire lead. It fires your own condensed mana. It turns your intent into a projectile."
"But I don't know how to shoot..."
"Don't look at the gun. Look at the world."
Han-wool's voice dropped to a hypnotic whisper. "Focus your eyes. Don't look at the surface. Look through it. Imagine you can see the lines of mana holding this car together."
Woojin hesitated, then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and opened them.
Focus.
He pushed mana into his eyes. The world blurred. Colors shifted.
Suddenly, he saw it.
On Han-wool's chest, right over his heart, a tiny, glowing red dot appeared.
"I... I see a dot," Woojin whispered.
"That," Han-wool smiled, "is a Virtual Point. It is the concept of a 'Weakness'. If you hit that dot with a mana bullet, your damage is amplified by 500%."
Woojin gasped. "500%?"
"Your class isn't 'Good Eyes', Woojin. Your class is «Sniper». The Red Color didn't mean you were a failure; it meant you were dangerous."
Han-wool extended his hand.
"The Cult of the Black Sun... the monsters... the world is going to end in two months. I am building a team to stop it. I don't need a porter. I need a killer who never misses."
Woojin looked at the hand. He looked at the S-Rank gun in his lap. He thought of his mother sleeping peacefully in the VIP room.
He didn't hesitate.
He gripped Han-wool's hand.
"I will be your bullet, Young Master," Woojin vowed, his voice trembling with newfound purpose. "Point me at the target, and I will kill it."
Han-wool smiled.
"Good. Then let's go."
"Where?"
Han-wool checked his watch. "I found a dungeon that hasn't been registered yet. It's the perfect place for target practice."
"Welcome to the team, Woojin," Han-wool said, tapping the driver's partition. "Logan, step on it."