In the year 2025, while South Korea and North Korea still stood divided, strange phenomena began occurring on both sides of the border. On an ordinary spring day, glowing gates appeared in major cities, first in Seoul, then in Pyongyang. From these gates, murderous beasts emerged one after another, killing thousands of civilians. Military units on both sides found themselves fighting the same beasts, together, before retreating to their own territories.

  In the middle of this crisis, the two Koreas decided to use the situation to finally move past the long ceasefire. The once symbolic crisis hotlines became emergency channels, used daily to coordinate responses to gates appearing near the DMZ. A joint task force was formed to investigate the phenomena, and as a result, the unification plans began for the first time. The unification agreement was signed in 2027, followed by new elections. The country was renamed The Unified Republic of Korea, and its new parliament was formed with an equal number of ministers from both former nations.

  Until then, humanity believed itself to be ordinary, with no special qualities. That changed the moment the first gate appeared. At first, only a small number of citizens awakened mysterious powers, and over time more followed. At first, the awakenings were dismissed as hallucinations caused by trauma, until biometric tests confirmed they were real. Using the same pattern-recognition technology as the pherowave analyzer, scientist were able to detect signs of awakening. They discovered awakened individuals showed unique neural patterns and heightened pheromone activity.

  These people became hunters, entering the dungeons hidden behind the gates and destroying the beasts inside. The mandatory military enlistment system changed with the awakenings, creating two distinct groups. Hunters became their own, while ordinary citizens continued their enlistments as before.

  Hunters were ranked from E to S, with S-class being the strongest. In 2035, the first SS-class hunter awakened in France. Only a few more appeared since: in China, Sweden, South Africa, and one in The Unified Republic of Korea. Soon after the first awakening, national leaders met and agreed on immediate next steps. This led to the creation of the Hunter Associations, first in the two capital cities, then expanding to Daegu, Busan, Nampo, Hamhung, and Jeju Island. Over time, the Hunter’s Association gained recognition as its own ministry, working closely with the Ministry of Defense. From 2037 onward, hunters with abilities useful in combat were required to serve in the military, while those with lesser or non-combat abilities became government officials assigned to roles suited to their abilities.

  As hunters began exploring the mysterious gates and the dungeons behind them, they discovered that each gate was guarded by a beast resembling one of the four ancient mythological guardians, gods.

  Because of this, the gates were officially named after them: Hyeonmu, the black gate; Cheongyong, the blue gate; Baekho, the white gate; and the most dangerous of them all, Jujak, the red gate.

  The first few gates ranged from Class D to B, but whenever a Jujak-gate appeared, tragedy followed. The red gate was never low-ranked, it was always either Class A or S.

  As hunters became part of national defense, social divisions carried over into the new system. Alphas, betas, and omegas were assigned different roles in the military and government. Alphas filled most frontline positions, betas handled support and strategy, and omegas were restricted to controlled environments unless their abilities were considered essential.

  But no matter how the system tried to organize itself, one thing remained the same: the gates kept opening, and someone had to go in.

  Yoon Taeha came from a normal North Korean family. His father was a member of the Workers' Party and a loyal follower of the supreme leader. Their family lived comfortably, with foreign cars and electronics. His childhood was ordinary; he went to school in his uniform, played outside with friends, and visited the town often with his family. He knew life outside Pyongyang was much harsher, but as a child he cared more about his own comfort than the suffering beyond the capital’s borders.

  This changed when awakenings began. When a Northerner awakened, they were immediately transferred to Pyongyang along with their families. Even those who had lived in poverty were suddenly given the chance to live a life of comfort.

  Yoon Taeha awakened as a hunter early, at the age of 14, at the same time he manifested as an omega. Awakened Northerners were required to enter military school as soon as they showed signs of their qualities, while their families remained in the capital in the homes provided by the government. The people already living in comfort, not understanding the poverty outside of the capital, felt these people were selling their children to the government, while as the wealthy were sending their children to the state with pride. Their children were officially recognized by the party at a young age.

  Omega hunters were not rare, but alphas greatly outnumbered them. Omegas still had to enter military school, but their department was much smaller, as the two secondary genders were never allowed in the same classes. Only outdoor training and field camps were conducted together.

  Yoon Taeha was an exceptional student, and later, an exceptional soldier. It was unheard of for a C-class hunter, especially a recessive omega, to rise high in the military. But the military understood how to use his hunter quality. Telepaths like Taeha were rare but invaluable for battlefield prediction, making him highly sought after despite his low rank and omega status. Able to sense the intentions of the enemy before they attacked, Yoon Taeha entered his first dungeon at sixteen, the youngest dungeon entrance ever recorded in the North.

  Having risen to the rank of Captain at eighteen, Yoon Taeha was transferred to the Seoul Hunter’s Association’ care. He became the first Northerner to receive special permission to bring his family across the border. The transfer to Seoul was part political gesture, part experiment, testing whether Northern hunters could integrate into Southern hunter units. Crossing the border after unification still required permission, but it was far easier than before.

  Finally, in 2037, the border was removed entirely during the anniversary celebrations of the unification of the two Koreas.

  10.8.2049 Seoul, Gangnam-gu, SHA Headquarters, Glasshouse Detention Center

  The room was cold, the bed was hard, and the blanket was thin. The Glasshouse wasn’t just a metaphor for a detention center, its walls truly were made of glass. It occupied five basement levels beneath the headquarters, each one separating omegas and alphas, and further dividing detainees based on ability. The Glasshouse was for hunters with minor qualities, C-class or lower, hunters like Yoon Taeha. His telepathic ability wasn’t considered a threat, which explained his placement.

  Yoon Taeha stared at the glass ceiling, then turned to his side. Naturally, there was no privacy; every cell was transparent. In the next one, a man lay curled in his bed, chanting something Yoon Taeha couldn’t understand. He’d seen people like him before on the streets, beggars, shells of what they once were. They hadn’t always been like this. Once, they were hunters defending their country, entering dungeons and facing beasts. It was obvious this man had lost his mind in one of those dungeons. Why he was here, Yoon Taeha didn’t know, and didn’t care. If he could keep his sanity, that was enough.

  It had been ten days since he was thrown into the Glasshouse, and his interrogation had yet to start. He had visitors, but only those with Association clearance. His sister worked in the Association’s laboratories, researching hunter qualities. To Yoon Taeha, she was still the high school student he remembered, seeing her now with a full doctorate was like spotting a rare animal in the wild.

  Doctor Han paid the occasional visit, insisting Yoon Taeha still needed medical assistance, even though it was obvious he had healed completely. He didn’t ask many questions, choosing instead to wait for Yoon Taeha to open up on his own. After all, waking from a ten-year coma and functioning normally within days was unnatural. Han Yoonseo simply waited, patiently, for the moment Yoon Taeha’s secrets would slip.

  The last visitor was the one who made him most uncomfortable.

  Kang Jeonhyun came and went as he pleased, never missing a single day. Yoon Taeha didn’t know whether he’d been assigned to monitor him or if he had another motive. Kang Jeonhyun would enter, sit down, and remain silent. For the first few days Yoon Taeha simply lay in bed under Kang’s watchful stare. Keeping sane became a challenge. He worried whether staying silent with this man in his cell, he would end up like the detainee in the cell next to him, so he began talking. And once he began, he didn’t stop. Kang Jeonhyun’s irritation became increasingly obvious after ten days of near-silence.

  “Did you know that dates have so much fiber they don’t spike your blood sugar? Great alternative to candy, if you ask me. Do you like candy? No, you don’t look like someone who likes sweets. Maybe savory snacks? I like chips. Do you like chips? The convenience store near my house sold the best ones. I wonder if it’s still there. I should ask my sister when she visits.”

  He continued his monologue endlessly. Kang Jeonhyun sat there without reacting, Yoon Taeha wasn’t even sure if he listened or had completely zoned out. It became a game: how long would it take to get a reaction out of him? Yoon Taeha was amused.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Do you even blink? Blink twice if you’re silently judging me.” He wondered how long he would have to keep it up for the man to crack.

  On the tenth day, at the exact same hour as always, Kang Jeonhyun arrived at his cell, still silent.

  “You’re a very quiet guy,” Yoon Taeha said. “I wish you’d tell me more about yourself. Where do you live? Born in Seoul, sure, but were you raised here? Any siblings? What about your parents, what do they do? Are they still alive?”

  That made Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes light up. It wasn’t curiosity or amusement, it was far from anything positive. Taeha felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.

  “A sensitive topic, huh?” Yoon Taeha asked, followed by a nervous laugh. In a split second, Kang Jeonhyun was on him. His hand wrapped around Yoon Taeha’s neck, slamming him against the wall. “What the fuck? Aren’t you getting a bit too close? Do you have a crush on me?” Yoon Taeha hissed, teeth gritted, gripping Kang Jeonhyun’s wrist. The pulse at his temple throbbed visibly. “You really are no fun.”

  “You don’t get to talk about my family,” Kang Jeonhyun said, his voice shaking with fury. A sharp, burning heat rushed over Yoon Taeha’s body all at once. Kang Jeonhyun was releasing his alpha pheromones, none of the soft, intimate heat Taeha knew, but hostile ones.

  “Oh, so you haven’t gone mute.” Yoon Taeha’s nervous laugh changed into a humorless one as he tried to breathe. The pheromones weighed him down, draining his strength with every second. “How about you let go of my neck now and get the fuck out of my cell.”

  “Your rank may not have been revoked,” Kang Jeonhyun said coldly, “but you are beneath me in skill. If you think for a moment you can overpower me, think again.”

  “Ha. I don’t care enough about you to entertain those kinds of thoughts. To me, you’re just a little boy with anger-management issues. What is your problem with me?”

  Kang Jeonhyun knew if he pushed further, he’d risk harming the only person who might hold the answers he needed. He inhaled deeply, lifted Taeha by the neck, and threw him onto the bed. Then he stormed out, slamming the glass door behind him. Only then did Taeha notice the thin crack spreading across the wall, not from the door, but from the impact of his own back.

  “Oh my, someone better fix that, along with your attitude,” Taeha called out, coughing. “You might want to visit Dr. Han. Oh, and thanks for the soft landing!”

  Yoon Taeha didn’t move for a long while. Kang Jeonhyun’s reaction had been terrifying, but also strangely amusing. He didn’t understand the hostility he had faced, but he couldn’t help chuckling, imagining how interesting things were about to get.

  Eventually, he got to his feet and walked to the mirror. His reflection showed dark, bruising marks around his neck. He touched them carefully, fingers trembling just slightly, and let out a dry laugh.

  “People will think I had a wild night.”

  13.8.2049 Seoul, Seocho-gu, Seocho Central Heights

  “Oppa’s interrogation is set for tomorrow,” Yoon Jiyeon said quietly at the breakfast table.

  “Interrogation,” Yoon Mi-sook repeated, her voice cracking. “I don’t understand why they treat him like a criminal. He is a victim, for God’s sake. I only just got him back… I haven’t even been allowed to see his face.” Her eyes glistened.

  “Well, if he goes to prison, you’ll get visitation,” Yoon Jiyeon muttered, lifting her chopsticks. The chopsticks were slapped out of her hand.

  “Do not joke about this!” Yoon Mi-sook’s voice rose, harsher than she intended.

  “Don’t get so aggressive, mom. We don’t know what happened behind that gate, and Taeha has no recollection of it either. He’s dumb enough to forget something so important.”

  “You’re a doctor, you should understand him better.”

  “I’m a hunter-quality and pheromone researcher,” Yoon Jiyeon corrected calmly, bending down for her chopsticks. “I'm not a psychiatrist.”

  Yoon Mi-sook sighed. Her shoulders sagged, and she pressed trembling fingers to her eyes.

  “I don’t know what to do, Jiyeon. He was in a coma for 10 years and the first thing they do is treat him like a suspect! Where’s the fairness in that? We didn’t leave the North, just to be treated like criminals.”

  “The interrogation is a standard procedure. It’s not like it was back home. May I remind you, that the only reason that we’re here is because of oppa.”

  Yoon Jiyeon’s expression softened for a moment.

  “The interrogation is standard procedure,” she said gently. “It’s not like it was back home. May I remind you that the only reason we’re here at all is because of oppa.”

  Yoon Mi-sook stared at the untouched food on the table.

  “Exactly,” she whispered. “And that’s why I can’t lose him again.”

  “Don’t worry mom, they can’t expect him back into the battlefield with that injury of his.”

  14.8.2049 Seoul, Gangnam-gu, Seoul Department of Justice, Hunter’s Office

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Yoon Taeha shrugged, irritated. “I went into the dungeon and the rest is a blur.”

  “You seem very comfortable despite having lost five days’ worth of memory,” the investigation officer said.

  “Well, I lost ten years of my youth too, and you don’t see me crying about that either, do you?” Taeha shot back. He still hadn’t uttered a word of complaint since waking up from the coma; if anything, the silence had made him look more unsettling. The two men exchanged a glance before facing him again.

  “Yoon Taeha, you entered the S-class Jujak-gate on November 11th, 2039, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many men entered the gate with you?”

  “Two hundred and ninety-nine, sir.”

  “And how many returned?”

  “One.” Taeha pointed to himself. “That’d be me. Or that’s what I’m told.”

  “Do you not see the problem here?”

  “I do not have a problem, sir.” Taeha leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “I’m alive. That’s luck. What happened to the two hundred and ninety-nine other men? I don’t know. What matters is that I survived.”

  “These are exactly the kinds of statements that make you suspicious,” the officer snapped. “We have reason to believe you abandoned the others to become Jujak’s prey.”

  “Dungeons only close if the guardian is killed,” Taeha said, meeting the man’s gaze without blinking. “Even you should know that. Which means someone defeated the guardian.”

  “Was that someone you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t remember.” His jaw tightened. He was sick of repeating the same line. He had gone through psychiatric evaluation just the evening before. The doctors report showed nothing that could benefit the investigation. Either Yoon Taeha had really lost his memory of the events, or he was a brilliant liar.

  “Tsk.” The officer clicked his tongue and glanced at the man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Lieutenant Kang, anything to add?”

  “Why is he even here?” Taeha asked with open annoyance. “Did none of you see what happened to the glasshouse cell? This guy is dangerous.”

  “All the better. Maybe you’ll behave,” the officer said. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, and it’ll land you in trouble. When it does, I’ll be right there to hear what you’re really hiding.”

  “Northern pigs…” the officer next to him muttered under his breath. Taeha’s eyes darkened instantly.

  “I don’t need insults from men who never made it to the front lines and got stuck with desk duty,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Two D-class hunters. What a joke.”

  “You piece of—” The man shot up, slamming his fist onto the table, his other arm rising for a swing. Taeha lifted his hands as if daring him to try.

  “We have nothing on him, and we’re getting no information. We have to let him go.” The other officer grabbed the man’s arm. “Besides, I trust Lieutenant Kang will keep an eye on him.”

  Kang Jeonhyun wasted no time. The moment Taeha’s cuffs were removed, he snapped, “Let’s go,” and ushered him out. Taeha rubbed his wrists as they walked down the central corridor, staring straight ahead like he could still hear the accusations.

  They took the elevator down to the parking lot. Kang Jeonhyun’s SUV stood out among the others. It was a model Yoon Taeha had never seen before, and he was curious.

  “This is a nice car,” Taeha said, circling it with bright eyes. “What model is it?”

  “Get in,” Kang ordered. This time, Taeha didn’t argue. He simply smirked and slipped into the passenger seat.

  14.8.2049 Incheon, Dong-gu

  Exhausted, Yoon Taeha fell asleep in the car. After almost an hour Kang Jeonhyun finally stopped in an empty underground parking lot. Yoon Taeha blinked awake and looked out through the tinted windows, confused.

  “Where are we?” he asked, noticing the silence and the absence of cars.

  “You’ll be staying here.” Kang Jeonhyun’s voice was flat, but his eyes were sharp in the rearview mirror. Taeha got out and followed him.

  “I’d rather stay with my mom, thanks.”

  “That won’t be possible,” Kang Jeonhyun replied, leading him toward the elevator. “The Association needs you under surveillance.”

  “I thought you guys didn’t have anything on me.”

  Kang Jeonhyun stopped walking for a moment and glanced back at him.

  “Someone surviving while two hundred and ninety-nine didn’t… don’t you think that’s enough reason for anyone, including me, not to trust you?” There was something hostile in that ‘me’. Yoon Taeha felt it immediately.

  “Why are you here again?” Yoon Taeha finally asked. “Why would the Second Lieutenant of the Seoul Hunter’s Association be following me around like a chick?”

  “I was assigned to babysitting duty.”

  Yoon Taeha laughed under his breath, but Kang didn’t even blink. He had remained the same stone-faced, humorless man since the moment they first met. Breaking his ice seemed like an impossible task, and Taeha could sense the hostility simmering beneath the surface. Only he didn’t know why.

  They reached the studio apartment. Kang Jeonhyun unlocked the door, and Yoon Taeha immediately slipped inside, eyes widening at the modern interior. He took his shoes off and toured the space excitedly.

  “Whoa! A bathtub and everything. This place is nice. Bit too big for me, but nice.”

  “I’ll have the Association bring you your necessities,” Kang Jeonhyun said, stepping in but remaining by the door. “I’ll bring my things later. You can stay here by yourself tonight. You’ll be surveilled by cameras, so don’t do anything stupid.” Yoon Taeha froze.

  “What do you mean your things?”

  “The Association wants you on twenty-four-hour watch.”

  “By you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

  Kang Jeonhyun met his eyes, gaze sharp enough to cut.

  “You don’t.”

  “…Awesome. Just great,” Yoon Taeha muttered.

  Kang Jeonhyun reached into his pocket and handed him a phone.

  “You can call your mother. I’ve been told you haven’t contacted her yet.”

  Yoon Taeha bowed slightly. “…Thanks.” For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was thick enough to choke on.

  “That was… uncomfortable,” Yoon Taeha finally said trying to break the ice. “The interrogation, I mean.” He looked up, meeting Kang Jeonhyun’s eyes as if testing his patience. A mistake.

  Suddenly he stepped forward, grabbing Yoon Taeha’s collar and yanking him closer. Yoon Taeha’s eyes widened, caught off guard. It was only the day before Kang Jeonhyun had held him by his neck against the wall, but Yoon Taeha’s neck had no marks from the strangling.

  “Impossible…” he muttered under his breath.

  Before Yoon Taeha could protest, Kang Jeonhyun lifted the hem of his shirt and turned him around, cold fingers trailing down his spine, searching for wounds that should have been there but weren’t.

  “Ngh—” Yoon Taeha let out a startled, soft moan. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early in our relationship for that?”

  Kang Jeonhyun didn’t answer.