Taewoon was a Hunter trainee.
He had been one when he just came of age, and he still was now.
For over five long years, he had failed to become an official Hunter, wasting each day in futility.
“Hey, look over there. He’s here again today.”
“Ugh, it’s kind of pitiful, but he really should know when to give up. What’s the point of clinging to something that’s never going to work?”
“Heh, come on. You think that’s so easy? Deep down, he probably knows it too. Just ignore him and keep working on your equipment.”
By now, Taewoon had become somewhat famous at Hongshimgwan.
Of course, not in a good way, but a bad one. Anyone could tell from the murmurs he overheard during training.
…
How had it come to this? Once, Taewoon had been a promising rookie, well-known in the area.
No, perhaps even more than that. He had received exceptional offers from various guilds and Hunter academies vying to sign him.
Even Hongshimgwan, where he currently trained, had presented him with an unprecedented, almost shocking contract to secure him.
But that…
He could never have imagined that it would mark the beginning of a long, downward spiral.
For five years, Taewoon had failed to obtain his official Hunter certification, endlessly scraping the bottom of the barrel. He had become a parasite at Hongshimgwan, drawing resentful stares from others.
Living off the support funds stipulated in his contract without contributing anything was bound to draw such treatment.
It’s all because of this cursed trait…
Taewoon had once been called a prodigy because of one thing: the unique trait displayed in his status window.
▶【Universal Theater】
In this world, every awakened human could summon a status window. Only those who manifested a unique trait could qualify as Hunters and begin their activities.
A clearly defined trait meant the qualification was already granted.
Moreover, the name of his trait was unprecedented, causing scouts to lose their minds over him back then.
A rookie worth taking a gamble on—or even an absolute must-have.
But what was the result now?
Taewoon still didn’t understand how to use his trait, Universal Theater.
During his initial training, Hongshimgwan had assigned numerous experts to help him figure it out, but to no avail.
Eventually, they all gave up, saying it was hopeless.
Every year, a new wave of promising rookies emerged. The fervent interest in Taewoon quickly turned into cold indifference and, eventually, faded away.
That had been three years ago. It felt like an eternity.
…
Taewoon had grown up in an orphanage. When he should have been preparing for his future, he was swept into the Hunter world, hailed as talented.
Even if he gave up being a Hunter, what else could he possibly do to survive?
For now, he lived off the support funds guaranteed by his contract, but if he abandoned everything, only a bleak future awaited.
Thunk!
Tick, tack—!
After an hour of swinging his spear at a training dummy, Taewoon turned his sweat-soaked head toward the sound of approaching footsteps.
Sure enough, it was a group of familiar faces.
“Tsk, at it again, huh? I swear, there’s no one as tenacious as this guy. Don’t you agree?”
“…”
“Hey, the boss asked you a question. Don’t just ignore him—answer properly, will you?”
A towering, muscle-bound man and his lackeys.
They were active Hunters who had been tailing and harassing Taewoon for months, taking every chance to pester him.
“Listen, man. Contract or not, you’ve got to have some shame. Do you know how many people are sick of you leeching off the guild without a care?”
Though their words weren’t entirely wrong, their mocking tone made their true intentions clear.
They wanted to provoke Taewoon into voluntarily breaking his contract.
…How did things get this bad?
Hongshimgwan had bent over backward to secure Taewoon with an incredibly favorable contract.
Unless he caused a major issue or broke the contract himself, there was no easy way to nullify it.
Even as he faced this blatant hostility, Taewoon didn’t feel particularly angry.
After all, he understood their perspective.
Clinging to the guild, draining funds while failing to blossom into the talent they had hoped for—he couldn’t exactly call it honorable.
There’s no room for pride left anymore.
How could they possibly understand the feeling of once being praised as exceptional, only for those admiring gazes to gradually turn to disgust?
Taewoon’s spirit had long since been crushed and ground down.
He no longer felt insulted by their disdain or hurt by their crude words.
And yet, for some reason, today, the man’s pointed remark struck him differently.
Perhaps it was because even Taewoon himself was starting to run out of the stubbornness and lingering hopes that had kept him going.
Maybe… it’s time to give up for real.
Despite knowing it was a mistake, Taewoon couldn’t stop. He kept telling himself, “Just one more year, or maybe three more months,” refusing to abandon his lingering regrets and walking the same path over and over.
Because all the time he had invested so far would feel wasted otherwise.
Because it was the first and only goal he had pursued with true determination.
Because even if he gave up, he had no idea what he could do next.
But now, perhaps it was finally time to let go and accept the inevitable.
“…Sigh.”
Taewoon’s journey had ended long ago. There was no possibility left, none at all.
And no one understood this bitter truth better than Taewoon himself.
…It’s been a long road.
Even though he could have stubbornly denied it one last time, strangely, he didn’t feel like doing so anymore.
His lips, trembling with hesitation and regret, moved slightly before finally releasing words of resignation into the air.
“…I’ll quit.”
“What?”
“You’re right. It’s time to stop. I can’t live like this forever, can I?”
“What… What the hell? Did this guy eat something weird? Hey, you recorded that, right? Go report it to Sangeol-hyung right now.”
The man was momentarily taken aback but quickly broke into a smug grin, leading his group out of the training hall to deliver the “good news.”
Left alone, Taewoon began packing his belongings with a bitter smile.
Will I regret this?
Of course, he would. Again and again.
But… it couldn’t be helped.
What doesn’t work simply doesn’t work.
Some people achieve everything without giving up, while others fail even after putting in the same effort.
This time, Taewoon was part of the latter group.
Step, step.
Beep!
[Identity verified.]
After finishing his packing, Taewoon swiped his membership card to exit the building.
As he did, a passing woman glanced at him and spoke.
“…Are you done already for today?”
“Oh, yeah. Well… I think I’m done for good this time.”
At Taewoon’s heavy words, the woman looked visibly shaken before replying hesitantly.
“You’re quitting…?”
“Yeah. I’ve done all I can, and staying any longer would just be clinging to regrets.”
Seoyoon.
Currently one of the most celebrated rising stars in Korea and recently recognized as a Level 5 Hunter, she too had once been an apprentice at Hongshimgwan.
Taewoon remembered advising her when she first joined, as she had reminded him of the younger children from his orphanage.
Back then, Taewoon’s reputation hadn’t been so bad, so he had played the role of senior to some extent.
But now, all of that felt meaningless.
“There’s no need to overthink it. This is just the end of the first chapter of my life. I’ll start fresh from here.”
“…I see.”
Seoyoon’s face darkened as she sighed softly, but she eventually forced a faint smile and offered a parting word.
“…I’m sure you’ll do well. Wherever you go, whatever you do.”
It was little more than polite encouragement, but for some reason, it carried a surprising warmth for Taewoon.
At the same time, though, it also brought a sharp sting of despair and inferiority as he compared himself—who had failed despite giving his all—to her, basking in the praise of everyone.
Suppressing his emotions, Taewoon bowed slightly and left through the door.
The chill of the evening wind greeted him, along with the metallic sounds of cars speeding by.
“…Sigh.”
He considered lighting a cigarette but decided against it and hailed a taxi instead.
“Where to?”
“Rodem ENC, please.”
The taxi sped through the city and soon pulled into an alley, stopping in front of Taewoon’s home.
“That’ll be 9,870 won.”
“…Here you go.”
Taewoon handed over his card reluctantly, lamenting his unchanged financial situation and the ever-rising costs.
Creak.
Thud.
The sight awaiting him wasn’t much to behold—just a small, 6-pyeong studio apartment.
Even calling it a home had cost him quite a bit of money.
With his funding about to be cut off, he would soon have to vacate this place too.
It was the right decision. Honestly, I should’ve quit a long time ago.
Even so, the bitter feelings gnawing at his chest were impossible to suppress.
“…Hah.”
Thunk.
Slide.
Leaning against the wall, Taewoon let out a few hot tears for the first time in a long while. Resting his forehead against the mirror, he thought:
If only I had more talent as a Hunter.
If only I had been able to unlock whatever this “Universal Theater” ability was.
It was a desperate wish, now an unattainable dream.
But then, in that very moment, an unexpected change occurred.
Ding!
[You possess one Basic-Grade Ticket.]
[Would you like to use the Basic-Grade Ticket to enter the Theater?]
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