Prologue (Part 1)

The sky split open without warning.

Not with thunder.

Not with lightning.

But with silence.

A crack, as black as an endless abyss, stretched across the afternoon sky above Seoul. The air grew heavy. Birds dropped from the sky. Every awakened hunter in the city instinctively looked up, their bodies trembling before their minds understood why.

Then the system announced it.

『Emergency Notice』

SSS+ Dimensional Rift Detected.

Estimated Casualty Rate: 99.98%.

Classification: Unknown.

Within minutes, every major guild mobilized.

Helicopters roared overhead. Hunters poured into the streets. Military forces established evacuation zones. News broadcasts interrupted every channel.

People screamed.

People ran.

People prayed.

And in the middle of the chaos...

One man sighed.

"...I was going to buy bread."

Standing outside a tiny neighborhood bakery was a young man dressed in a loose black hoodie, faded jeans, and worn sneakers. A paper shopping bag rested in one hand while the other held an umbrella even though the sky was perfectly clear.

His name was Seo Yihan.

At least...

That was the name printed on his identification card.

An elderly woman grabbed his sleeve in panic.

"Young man! Hurry! The hunters said everyone has to evacuate!"

Yihan blinked once before offering a gentle smile.

"I'll be right behind you, ma'am."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Only after watching the old woman disappear around the corner did the smile slowly fade.

His eyes rose toward the crack hanging in the heavens.

"...You've got terrible timing."

The wind changed.

It carried with it the unmistakable scent of mana.

Not ordinary mana.

Ancient mana.

The kind that hadn't existed on Earth for years.

The paper bag in Yihan's hand crumpled slightly.

"So..."

He spoke quietly, as though greeting an unwelcome guest.

"You finally found me."

Five years earlier.

The world had called him humanity's greatest hero.

The Black Reaper.

The first hunter to reach a power level the System itself couldn't measure.

The man who had cleared impossible gates alone.

The hunter who had killed monsters that entire armies couldn't even wound.

His face had once appeared on every television screen.

Children wanted to become him.

Guilds offered fortunes just to recruit him.

Governments tried to control him.

Religions declared him a messenger of God.

He hated every second of it.

The stronger he became...

The less human everyone believed he was.

People stopped asking whether he was tired.

Whether he was injured.

Whether he was lonely.

They only asked one thing.

"When will you save us again?"

Every disaster became his responsibility.

Every failure became his fault.

Every victory belonged to humanity.

Only the blood on his hands belonged to him.

The final battle lasted three days.

No cameras survived long enough to record it.

No satellite could see inside the collapsing dimensional storm.

Only one fact reached the world.

The Black Reaper entered.

The Calamity disappeared.

Neither of them came back.

The world mourned.

Statues were built.

Memorials filled city squares.

Schools taught children about the greatest hunter in history.

Meanwhile...

The supposed hero rented a tiny apartment under a fake identity, spent three weeks assembling cheap furniture, and discovered that folding laundry was strangely relaxing.

For the first time in years...

No one expected anything from him.

It was wonderful.

"...Sir?"

Yihan looked up.

The bakery owner leaned nervously over the counter.

"Your bread..."

"Oh."

He had completely forgotten why he came.

"Thank you."

Warm bread filled the paper bag.

The smell almost made him smile.

He had crossed collapsing dimensions.

Defeated creatures that erased cities.

Survived battles beyond imagination.

Yet somehow...

Freshly baked bread still felt like life's greatest reward.

"...This is nice."

He turned to leave.

Then every instinct in his body screamed.

Not danger.

Recognition.

Something...

Someone...

Had stepped through the crack above Seoul.

Someone who knew exactly who Seo Yihan really was.

Far above the city, hidden beyond the clouds, a pair of crimson eyes slowly opened.

A low voice echoed through the dimensional rift.

"So..."

"You're still alive."

"And you've been hiding from us all this time."

Yihan closed his eyes.

His peaceful life...

Lasted exactly five years.

And it had just come to an end.

Prologue (Part 2)

The crimson eyes disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared.

The rift remained.

The pressure did not.

The suffocating mana that had frozen the entire city slowly dissipated, allowing hunters across Seoul to breathe again.

People believed the danger had passed.

Seo Yihan knew better.

"...It wasn't trying to invade."

His quiet voice vanished beneath the distant screams of emergency sirens.

"It was looking for me."

For five years, he had carefully erased every trace of his existence.

Every official record connected to the Black Reaper had been destroyed.

His fingerprints no longer matched the ones stored by the Hunter Association.

His mana signature had been sealed beneath countless layers of ancient magic.

Even his face looked subtly different thanks to a relic that altered how people remembered his features.

No one had recognized him.

Not a single person.

Until today.

The emergency alert on every phone changed.

『Emergency Notice』

The Dimensional Rift has stabilized.

S-Rank Hunters are ordered to assemble immediately.

Civilians must remain inside shelters until further notice.

Yihan slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He had no intention of involving himself.

Not anymore.

Five years ago...

That version of him had died.

Or rather...

He had made sure the world believed he had.

His apartment was exactly eleven minutes from the bakery.

A small building tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else's name.

Mrs. Kim from the third floor always left homemade kimchi outside his door.

Mr. Choi downstairs complained every Saturday that young people never exercised.

The twins from next door insisted on calling him "Bookstore Hyung" because he owned the little secondhand bookstore at the end of the street.

It wasn't glamorous.

It wasn't exciting.

It was everything he had ever wanted.

As he unlocked the apartment door, a fluffy white cat lazily stretched across the entrance.

"...Move."

The cat ignored him.

Yihan sighed.

"I bought fish yesterday."

One ear twitched.

"I'll cook it."

The cat immediately stood up.

"...Shameless."

He scratched behind its ears anyway.

The apartment was small but comfortable.

Books lined every wall.

Plants covered the balcony.

A kettle quietly whistled in the kitchen.

There wasn't a single weapon in sight.

At least...

Not one an ordinary person would recognize.

Leaning against the umbrella stand near the front door was a plain black umbrella.

Its handle was cracked.

The fabric had faded from years of use.

To everyone else...

It was just an umbrella.

To Yihan...

It was the only weapon that had survived the Final Calamity.

The blade hidden inside had once cut through dimensions themselves.

He hadn't drawn it in five years.

Hopefully...

He never would again.

That night, rain began to fall.

The television filled the apartment with anxious voices.

"...Authorities have confirmed this is unlike any gate previously recorded..."

"...Several S-Rank guilds have entered the investigation..."

"...The Hunter Association has requested international assistance..."

Yihan muted the television.

He wasn't interested.

He knew exactly what kind of gate it was.

It wasn't a gate.

It was a doorway.

And something had opened it from the other side.

Someone powerful enough to cross dimensions without the System's permission.

Only a handful of beings had ever possessed that ability.

Every single one of them...

Should have been dead.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Yihan frowned.

It was almost midnight.

Opening the door, he found Mrs. Kim standing in the hallway with a worried expression.

"Oh dear, I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't."

"I made too much soup again."

She held out a warm container.

"You always forget to eat."

"...Thank you."

She smiled kindly.

"You young people work too hard."

If only she knew.

After another brief conversation, she returned upstairs.

Yihan looked down at the container in his hands.

Simple soybean stew.

Nothing special.

Yet...

Someone had cooked it thinking about whether he had eaten.

Five years ago...

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had worried about something so ordinary.

He smiled faintly.

"...I really don't want to lose this life."

Far away...

Deep beneath the Hunter Association headquarters...

An ancient artifact that had remained dormant for decades suddenly emitted a blinding light.

Researchers stumbled backward in shock.

"What happened?"

"I-I don't know!"

"The relic is... reacting!"

A series of unfamiliar symbols appeared across its surface.

No language expert present could understand them.

Only one sentence was translated automatically by the System.

『The King has awakened.』

Silence fell over the underground laboratory.

One researcher whispered with trembling lips,

"...Which king?"

No one answered.

Because no one wanted to imagine the possibility.

At exactly 2:13 a.m., Seo Yihan woke without opening his eyes.

Someone had entered his bookstore.

Not by opening the front door.

By appearing inside.

He sat up slowly.

His expression remained calm.

The warm, sleepy bookstore owner disappeared.

For the first time in five years...

The Black Reaper looked through his eyes.

Cold.

Unreadable.

Dangerously quiet.

He reached toward the umbrella beside his bed.

His fingers stopped just before touching it.

"...No."

If he drew the blade...

Everything would begin again.

Instead, he quietly left the apartment and walked through the rain toward the bookstore.

The streets were empty.

The city slept beneath the sound of distant thunder.

When he arrived, the lights inside were already on.

Someone was waiting.

Yihan unlocked the door.

The small bell above it chimed softly.

Standing among the bookshelves was a man in a perfectly tailored black suit.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dark hair neatly combed back.

Golden eyes that seemed to pierce through every lie.

He was calmly reading one of the books from the shelf as though he belonged there.

Without looking up, the stranger spoke.

"I've finally found you."

Yihan's expression didn't change.

"You broke into my bookstore."

The man closed the book and smiled—a small, almost amused smile.

"I did."

"Then you owe me compensation."

"..."

The stranger blinked.

Of all the reactions he had expected...

That wasn't one of them.

"...You're charging me?"

"You entered after closing hours."

Yihan pointed to a handwritten sign near the counter.

Unauthorized entry after closing: ₩100,000 fine.

For the first time in centuries...

The man laughed.

It echoed softly through the silent bookstore.

"So you've really changed, Seo Yihan."

"..."

"...Or should I call you..."

"The Black Reaper?"

Yihan's smile disappeared.

Outside...

Lightning illuminated the bookstore windows.

The peaceful life he had protected for five years...

Had officially come to an end.

Rain drummed softly against the bookstore windows.

Not the violent kind that sent people running for shelter, but the steady, rhythmic rain that washed the city in silver and blurred the neon lights into shimmering streaks across the pavement.

The old wooden clock hanging above the counter clicked quietly.

11:47 p.m.

Seo Yihan looked up from the novel in his hands before closing it with a gentle thud.

Another day had ended.

The bookstore was silent except for the sound of rain and the occasional rustle of pages as the wind slipped through a window that refused to shut completely.

He stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders until a satisfying crack echoed through the empty shop.

"...Finally."

His gaze wandered across the familiar room.

It wasn't large.

Compared to the towering chain bookstores scattered throughout Seoul, his little shop looked almost forgotten.

The wooden floor creaked with every step.

Bookshelves reached almost to the ceiling, packed with everything from fantasy novels and poetry collections to old encyclopedias that no one had touched in years.

A faded leather sofa rested beside the window.

A kettle sat atop a small electric stove behind the counter.

Warm yellow lights bathed the room in a comforting glow.

People often said stepping inside felt like entering another world.

Yihan liked hearing that.

Another world was exactly what he wanted.

One that had nothing to do with hunters.

Nothing to do with monsters.

Nothing to do with blood.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the counter.

The wood had become smooth after years of use.

He had built this place himself.

Not physically.

He had hired contractors for that.

But every bookshelf had been arranged by him.

Every plant near the windows had been chosen by him.

Every book recommendation card displayed neat handwriting that belonged to him.

This place...

Was proof that he could live as an ordinary person.

A soft meow interrupted his thoughts.

Yihan looked toward the front window.

A fluffy white cat stared back at him from atop the display shelf.

"You've been sleeping all day."

The cat blinked.

"...Meow."

"You have no shame."

It yawned dramatically before curling into a tighter ball.

Yihan chuckled.

"You really think I'm your personal hotel."

He reached beneath the counter and retrieved a small bag of cat treats.

The moment the bag crinkled...

The cat's ears perked up.

"So now you're awake."

The cat leapt gracefully onto the counter.

Its tail brushed against his arm as if demanding payment for its presence.

"You only like me because I feed you."

Another quiet meow.

"I know."

He smiled faintly.

"I'd probably do the same."

Five years ago...

He couldn't imagine laughing over something so simple.

Back then...

Every morning began with emergency calls.

Every night ended with another disaster.

The Hunter Association contacted him so often that he eventually stopped answering his phone entirely.

People called him humanity's shield.

Humanity's strongest weapon.

Humanity's last hope.

No one asked whether he wanted any of those titles.

They simply placed them upon his shoulders.

Eventually...

He stopped trying to take them off.

Until the day he disappeared.

Now...

His biggest concern was whether the neighborhood cat had eaten dinner.

Life was strange.

And for the first time in years...

He liked strange.

The bell above the entrance chimed.

Yihan looked toward the door.

An elderly woman entered while shaking rainwater from her umbrella.

"Good evening, Mrs. Kim."

The woman smiled warmly.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from closing."

"You still have thirteen minutes."

"You always know exactly when I arrive."

"You've come every Friday for almost four years."

She laughed.

"I suppose that's true."

Mrs. Kim wandered toward the fiction section with practiced familiarity.

She never hurried.

She liked reading the back covers of books even when she had already read them.

Yihan returned to sorting a stack of novels recently donated by a university professor.

One after another...

He inspected their condition.

Repaired bent corners.

Removed old price stickers.

Organized them by author.

The repetitive work soothed him.

It required no fighting.

No strategy.

No life-or-death decisions.

Only patience.

"You've received new books."

Mrs. Kim's voice drifted across the shop.

"I have."

She picked up one with a bright blue cover.

"I've already read this."

"I know."

"So why did you put it on the recommendation shelf?"

"Because everyone else hasn't."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose that's true."

She always enjoyed their little conversations.

Perhaps because Yihan never seemed impatient.

Or perhaps because he listened.

Really listened.

In a city where everyone rushed from one place to another...

Listening had become surprisingly rare.

After choosing two novels, Mrs. Kim approached the counter.

"How much?"

Yihan scanned the worn barcodes.

"₩12,000."

She reached into her handbag before frowning.

"...Oh dear."

"My wallet..."

She searched every pocket.

Nothing.

"I must have left it at home."

Her expression turned embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry."

Yihan simply placed the books into a paper bag.

"You can pay next week."

Mrs. Kim blinked.

"You trust me that much?"

"I've known you for four years."

"..."

"You've never missed a payment."

She smiled, her eyes softening.

"You're too kind."

"No."

He handed over the bag.

"I just have a good memory."

As she left, she paused by the door.

"You know..."

"Hm?"

"You remind me of my son."

Yihan's hand stopped.

"He always looked tired."

Mrs. Kim smiled sadly.

"But whenever he came home, he pretended everything was fine."

"..."

"You smile the same way."

Before he could respond...

The bell chimed once more.

She disappeared into the rainy street.

Silence returned.

Yihan stared at the closed door for several seconds.

"...Do I?"

His reflection stared back from the dark window.

Black hair slightly messy.

Gray eyes calm as always.

A faint smile.

He couldn't remember when pretending had become natural.

Maybe...

Long before he became the Black Reaper.

The clock struck midnight.

The bookstore officially closed.

Yihan flipped the wooden sign.

OPEN

became

CLOSED

He locked the front door.

Turned off half the lights.

Finished washing the teacups.

Fed the cat.

Checked tomorrow's delivery schedule.

Everything...

Exactly the same as every other night.

Ordinary.

Predictable.

Peaceful.

Just the way he liked it.

Outside...

The rain became heavier.

Lightning flashed beyond the distant skyline.

For the briefest moment...

The lights inside the bookstore flickered.

Yihan looked up.

"...That's strange."

The electricity in this neighborhood almost never failed.

He walked toward the front window.

The street was empty.

Not a single pedestrian remained.

Even the traffic seemed unusually quiet.

Something...

Felt different.

His instincts, dormant for five long years, stirred uneasily beneath the surface.

Not fear.

Recognition.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

The air carried an impossibly familiar scent.

Ancient mana.

So faint that even an S-Rank hunter would never notice it.

Yet to Yihan...

It was as recognizable as the scent of rain.

His relaxed posture disappeared.

His breathing slowed.

His heartbeat steadied.

Every movement became deliberate.

The peaceful bookstore owner faded into the background.

The hunter who had once stood at the top of the world quietly opened his eyes.

"...Who's here?"

No answer came.

Only the ticking of the old clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The cat, usually lazy enough to sleep through thunderstorms, suddenly stood.

Its ears flattened.

Its pupils narrowed.

A low growl rumbled from its throat.

Yihan had never heard it make that sound before.

He followed its gaze.

Toward the darkest aisle in the bookstore.

The history section.

A single book slipped from the shelf.

It landed on the wooden floor with a dull thud.

No wind.

No one visible.

Yet...

Someone was standing there.

Yihan could feel it.

Not with his eyes.

With instincts sharpened through countless battles.

He slowly stepped around the counter.

His footsteps made almost no sound.

Every shelf cast long shadows beneath the dim lights.

The rain outside grew louder.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the bookstore for the briefest instant.

And within that instant...

He saw the silhouette of a tall man standing quietly between the shelves.

When darkness returned...

The figure was gone.

Yihan did not panic.

He simply sighed.

"...If you're going to visit after closing..."

His calm voice echoed through the empty bookstore.

"...the least you could do is come through the front door."