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."
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