Chapter 7
A crumpled receipt dropped onto the table.
Chaeho took a sip from his now-lukewarm canned coffee and stared blankly at the numbers printed on the paper.
Equipment repair costs.
Low-grade weapon polishing compound.
And the fee for renting a private training room for several days.
For the past week, he had been running through E-rank dungeons on the outskirts of Seoul like a madman. He had sold every goblin mana stone and monster material he had collected.
Yet after paying all his expenses, the only thing left in his hands was a pathetic amount of change.
The words of the employee at the purchasing counter still echoed in his ears.
"Goblin mana stones are at rock-bottom prices these days, so we can't give you much for them. Next time, try bringing us something bigger."
They weren't wrong.
E-rank dungeons had been perfect training grounds for eliminating his old survival habits and practicing precise skill control in intervals of 0.1 seconds.
Thanks to that training, he had cut away countless unnecessary movements.
More importantly, he had managed to extend the duration of his skill to eleven seconds.
But reality wasn't as simple as the results screen in a training room.
Becoming stronger didn't immediately make his wallet thicker.
With the money from his last settlement, he had first sent enough to cover the repairs for his father's truck and his mother's examination for her herniated disc.
But once he thought about the living expenses and medical bills that would continue piling up, the small amount of money he had left wasn't nearly enough.
Forget his own living expenses.
He couldn't just stand by and watch his parents' lives become even harder.
He couldn't keep running around cramped caves forever, cutting goblin throats while barely breaking even.
"Haa..."
Chaeho casually crumpled the receipt and tossed it into the trash before picking up his smartphone.
With practiced movements, he opened the party recruitment app exclusively used by Hunters.
Countless recruitment posts continuously filled the screen in real time.
If this had been the old Chaeho, his eyes would have instinctively searched for words like—
Porter Needed.
C-rank Party Seeking Rear Support and Luggage Carrier.
With a D-rank badge hanging beside his name, that had once been the only safe way for him to make money.
But things were different now.
His eyes skipped past every porter-related listing and quickly moved down the screen, checking the requirements and compensation.
Then his finger stopped.
[C-Rank Dungeon Temporary Party Raid - D-Rank Close-Combat Hunter Needed]
Position: Frontline Support and Flank Defense
Requirements: Solid fundamentals and strong mentality required. We are NOT recruiting a porter. Combatants only.
Chaeho's finger froze over the screen.
The compensation alone was far higher than what he would make from running an E-rank dungeon ten times.
More importantly, this wasn't a position where he would stand in the rear guarding luggage.
He would be entering as a proper combatant.
There was no reason to hesitate.
Now that he possessed a reliable weapon capable of controlling individual moments in time, there was no longer any reason for him to run away.
Chaeho lightly tapped the Apply button in the bottom-right corner of the screen.
The area near the Association branch where they had agreed to meet was crowded with Hunters, almost like a marketplace.
Chaeho walked through the busy street with his equipment bag firmly gripped in one hand.
I'll keep the skill hidden for now.
As he walked, he once again clearly drew the boundary he had already decided upon in his mind.
The EX-rank skill that had emerged from the old random skill book Oh Sangmin had given him.
Time Slow.
The bizarre power that stretched out the world's flow until it became thick and sluggish, allowing him to dominate a single instant.
Even according to the current understanding of the System, it was an ability that couldn't easily be explained.
What would happen if the secret behind those eleven seconds became public?
It was obvious.
The Association would watch him.
Major guilds whose names everyone knew would relentlessly investigate and pressure him.
Having bundles of cash waved in his face along with enormous exclusive-contract offers would probably be the least troublesome outcome.
In the worst case, he could become a pawn in political struggles and secret conflicts until his ordinary life was completely destroyed.
Chaeho's goal was simple.
Choose his own dungeons.
Earn money quietly.
And live peacefully with his parents.
He had absolutely no interest in that kind of exhausting life.
So I'm just a D-rank Hunter who's unusually sharp and has ridiculously good reaction speed.
A talented Hunter who could read the flow of battle half a beat faster than everyone else and somehow always knew the perfect moment to strike.
That disguise would be enough.
During his days as a porter, he had carefully watched how higher-ranked Hunters fought and memorized monster habits until they were practically engraved into his head.
That gave him more than enough excuses to explain his unusual instincts.
There was only one exception he had decided on.
He wouldn't stubbornly hide his trump card while watching one of his companions get ripped apart by a monster right in front of him.
He wasn't the type of hero who would recklessly throw away his own life to save someone.
But if there was a crisis where he could save someone simply by reaching out his hand, he had no intention of doing something stupid like refusing to use his skill.
"Then I'll just have to use it at the right moments without getting caught."
Chaeho muttered quietly as he crossed the street and entered a large café across from the Association.
Inside, groups of Hunters sat around waiting for party members before raids or relaxing after finishing their Association business.
He scanned the seats near the windows by the entrance.
He remembered the description he had received by text.
A man with short-cropped hair wearing a black tactical jacket.
Chaeho's eyes stopped on a table in the corner.
Without hesitation, he walked over and stopped in front of it.
"Are you Hunter Choi Minseok?"
"Huh? Yes. That's me."
The man, who had been staring seriously at his smartphone, raised his head.
He was Choi Minseok, a C-rank Hunter and the leader of today's temporary party.
He looked Chaeho up and down before slightly narrowing his eyes.
"You're Hunter Lee Chaeho, right?"
"Yes. I received confirmation for my application just now."
"Have a seat first."
There was a strange mixture of caution and dissatisfaction in Choi Minseok's voice.
As soon as Chaeho pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, Minseok tapped the tablet lying on the table.
"I took another careful look at your record just now. Hmm... there's something I'm not sure about."
"What part concerns you?"
"I'm not really the type to beat around the bush. Can I just say it directly?"
"Go ahead."
At Chaeho's indifferent answer, Choi Minseok cleared his throat and pointed at the screen.
"Being a D-rank Hunter isn't the problem. But until recently, you were mainly working as a porter and doing cleanup work for parties. There's almost no record of you fighting on the frontline as a close-combat Hunter. Isn't that gap a little too long?"
