The smell of cheap ramen and defeat clung to my clothes as I slumped against the convenience store wall. My shift had ended thirty minutes ago, but I couldn't bring myself to move yet. Not when I knew what waited at home two pairs of eyes that still looked at me like I could fix everything, like I was strong enough to fill the void our parents left behind.
I wasn't.
"Hey, isn't that Stefan Hirogi?" A voice cut through my thoughts. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Kim Tae-Jun and his crew of wannabe Hunters always hung around this district, showing off their newly awakened Aura like it made them gods.
"The dropout?" Another voice laughed. "Man, his parents were S-Rank legends, and he can't even manifest basic Aura. What a waste of genetics."
I kept my eyes down, focusing on the cracked pavement beneath my worn-out sneakers. Three years ago, I would've fought back. Three years ago, I had pride. But pride doesn't pay rent. Pride doesn't put food on the table for an eleven-year-old boy and girl who've already lost too much.
"Yo, Stefan!" Tae-Jun's designer boots appeared in my vision. Probably cost more than I made in two months. "I heard the Phoenix Guild is recruiting. Oh wait, they only take people with actual talent. Never mind."
His friends erupted in laughter. I felt my jaw clench, my fists tighten, but I forced myself to breathe. To stay still. To be invisible.
"Come on, man. Leave him alone." That was Chen Wei, a B-Rank Hunter who sometimes bought cigarettes during my shift. He was one of the few who treated me like a human being. "Kid's got enough problems."
"Whatever." Tae-Jun kicked my backpack as he walked past, sending my few belongings scattering across the sidewalk. "Don't spend all your paycheck on lottery tickets, dropout. You're not going to awaken any Aura at your age. You're done."
They left, and I finally let myself exhale. Chen Wei helped me gather my stuff, his expression a mix of pity and discomfort. I hated that look almost as much as the mockery.
"Thanks," I muttered, shoving my water bottle and work gloves back into my bag.
"Don't mention it." He lit a cigarette, studying me with those sharp hunter eyes. "You know, there's an E-Rank dungeon opening tomorrow in District Seven. Easy clear, low danger. Pay's decent for a solo run if you're desperate enough."
I looked up at that. "I'm not a registered Hunter."
"You don't need to be for E-Rank. Just need guts and a weapon." He flicked ash onto the pavement. "But maybe that's not for you. Those kids are right about one thing most people awaken Aura by sixteen or not at all. You're what, sixteen now?"
"Yeah." The word tasted bitter. Sixteen years old and already washed up, already written off as a failure in a world where power was everything.
"Well, the offer's there. Gate opens at dawn near the old warehouse district. Bring a bat or something." Chen Wei walked away, leaving me alone with a decision that felt like standing on a cliff's edge.
I pulled out my phone screen cracked, battery at fifteen percent and checked my bank account. The number made my stomach drop. After paying rent and utilities, I had barely enough for groceries this week. Yuki needed new school shoes. Kenji's glasses were held together with tape. And I was still three months behind on the "support payments" the Hunter Association had promised but never delivered.
An E-Rank dungeon. The lowest of the low, usually populated by weak goblins and slimes. Hunters called them "tutorial dungeons" with contempt. But the payout for a solo clear was five hundred thousand won. Not fortune, but enough to breathe for a few weeks.
The problem was simple: I had no Aura, no training, and no idea how to fight actual monsters. E-Rank might be a joke to real Hunters, but people still died in there. Stupid, desperate people.
People like me.
I stood up, my legs protesting after a twelve-hour shift. The walk home took forty minutes I couldn't afford the subway and by the time I reached our tiny apartment, the sun was setting over the concrete jungle of Seoul.
"Stefan's home!" Yuki's voice rang out before I even got the door fully open. She crashed into me with a hug, her small arms wrapping around my waist. Behind her, Kenji looked up from his homework, managing a small smile.
They looked so much like Mom. Same dark hair, same bright eyes that used to sparkle with mischief before the world taught them about loss. Now they just looked tired, like they were carrying weights too heavy for children.
"How was school?" I asked, forcing cheerfulness into my voice as I dropped my bag and headed to the kitchen. Dinner would be rice and whatever vegetables I could stretch into something edible.
"Boring," Yuki said, flopping onto our worn couch. "But I got an A on my math test!"
"That's my girl." I ruffled her hair, genuine pride swelling in my chest. At least I was doing something right. "Kenji?"
"Fine." He didn't elaborate. He never did anymore. My little brother had closed off after the funeral, building walls I didn't know how to break through. Some nights I heard him crying in the room they shared, but whenever I tried to talk about it, he shut down completely.
I cooked rice, fried some eggs, added the last of our kimchi. We ate together at our small table, and I listened to Yuki chatter about her friends while Kenji picked at his food silently. This was my life now. This was what I'd chosen when I dropped out of Hanseong High School to become their guardian.
No regrets. I'd make the same choice a thousand times.
But as I washed dishes in our cramped kitchen, staring at the water-stained walls of our government-subsidized apartment, I felt the weight of inadequacy crushing down on me. My parents had been heroes. They'd saved thousands of lives, cleared SS-Rank dungeons, stood among the world's elite. And I couldn't even keep their children in decent shoes.
"Stefan?" Yuki appeared beside me, holding her worn stuffed rabbit. "Are you okay? You seem sad."
"I'm fine, sweetheart." I dried my hands and knelt to her level. "Just tired from work."
"I heard kids at school talking. They said... they said Hunters make lots of money. That if you were a Hunter like Mom and Dad, we wouldn't be poor." Her eyes were too knowing for an eleven-year-old. "Is that true?"
My heart cracked a little more. "Yeah. It's true."
"Then why don't you become a Hunter?"
Because I'm weak. Because I failed. Because I'm everything a Hunter shouldn't be.
"It's complicated," I said instead. "Now go brush your teeth. School tomorrow."
After putting them to bed a process that involved reading Yuki two stories and sitting with Kenji until his breathing evened out I sat alone in the dark living room. The city lights filtered through our thin curtains, casting shadows that felt like judgments.
I pulled up news articles on my phone, searching for information about the District Seven dungeon. E-Rank, as Chen Wei said. Recent clears reported easy mobs, straightforward layout, minimal danger for anyone with basic combat skills and Aura protection.
But I had neither.
A notification popped up a message from the Hunter Association. Another rejection for my application to posthumously increase my parents' death benefits. The same form letter they'd sent three times before, full of bureaucratic language that basically said: "Your parents died serving humanity, here's the minimum required by law, stop bothering us."
I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. Instead, I set it down carefully and stared at my hands. Ordinary hands. No Aura glow, no power, nothing special. Just calluses from manual labor and scars from broken glass I'd cleaned up at work.
My parents had been special. Legendary. People still talked about the "Hirogi Duo" with reverence. They'd mastered both Aura techniques and Nika swordplay, a combination so rare that scholars studied their fighting style. They'd stood against world-ending threats and won.
And they'd produced me. A son who couldn't manifest even the faintest spark of power.
The shame was a familiar companion by now, sitting heavy in my chest like a stone. But beneath it, deeper down, something else stirred. Something I tried to keep buried because acknowledging it felt dangerous.
Anger.
Rage at a world that took my parents and gave nothing back. Fury at the system that elevated the strong and discarded the weak. Hatred for every smug Hunter who looked at me with pity or contempt, who judged me for circumstances beyond my control.
I was so tired of being weak. So tired of watching others live the life that should have been mine, if only I'd been born with talent. If only the genetic lottery had favored me. If only, if only, if only.
District Seven. Dawn. Five hundred thousand won.
I made my decision.
Standing up, I went to the closet and pulled out the box I'd hidden on the top shelf, behind winter clothes we barely needed in Seoul's mild climate. Inside was my father's old training sword a real blade, not the wooden practice weapons most beginners used. The handle was worn from his grip, the steel dulled from years in storage, but it was all I had of his legacy.
I'd tried to sell it once, when things got really desperate. The pawn shop owner had offered me fifty thousand won. I'd walked out instead, unable to let go of this last physical connection to the man who'd taught me to tie my shoes, who'd carried me on his shoulders, who'd promised he'd teach me to be a Hunter when I got older.
That promise died with him.
But maybe tomorrow, in an E-Rank dungeon full of weak monsters, I could pretend for a few hours. I could pretend I was strong enough. Brave enough. Worthy enough to carry the Hirogi name.
Even if it killed me.
I set my alarm for four in the morning and tried to sleep, my father's sword resting against the wall beside my mattress on the floor. Tomorrow would change everything or end everything. Either way, I'd stop being trapped in this limbo of weakness and poverty.
The city hummed outside my window, full of Hunters and dungeons and magic I couldn't touch. But tomorrow, I'd step into that world anyway.
Because desperate times made people do desperate things. And I was the most desperate person I knew.
To be continued...