The dull screech of Jeff's alarm broke through the silence, yanking him out of a fitful sleep. He groaned, reaching over to silence it, then slumped back into his bed, staring at the ceiling. The numbers on his clock glowed: 7:30 AM. He had never hated a morning as much as this one.

Today was Jeff's 21st birthday — a day most people celebrated with joy. For Jeff, it felt like the world's cruelest joke. Unawakened and still without a purpose, he was now officially too old for society to see him as anything but a failure.

In this world, nearly everyone awakened by 18. Those who did not were outcasts, unable to access even basic abilities. They were the invisible ones, the unlucky few whom society dismissed as "sleepers." Awakening was what separated heroes from the powerless. It opened doors to the prestigious world of hunters, people who could fight in dungeons, protect cities, and earn a fortune doing it.

For years, Jeff had held onto hope. Every morning, he'd look in the mirror, hoping for that spark, that faint glimmer of power — but it never came. And with each year, that hope turned into bitterness and, finally, into quiet acceptance.

He exhaled, sinking deeper into the sheets, when a soft knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked open, and his mother, Claire, peeked inside, a warm but cautious smile on her face. She held a small plate with a single cupcake, a tiny candle flickering at its center.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she said gently.

Jeff sat up, blinking in surprise. His mother had always been his anchor, his rock, in a world that constantly reminded him of his inadequacies. She was a small woman with lines etched deeply into her face, her brown hair streaked with gray. She worked long hours at a convenience store to keep them afloat after his father left, never once complaining.

"Thanks, Mom." Jeff forced a smile, though the weight of everything hung over him like a shadow.

She crossed the room and placed the cupcake on his desk, her gaze lingering on him. "I know things haven't turned out… the way we hoped," she said softly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "But you're still my son, Jeff. I'm proud of you, no matter what."

Her words, simple yet full of warmth, hit him harder than he expected. He looked away, blinking to push back the tears welling up in his eyes. He felt like such a burden to her, like he was dragging her down with his failures.

"Thanks, Mom. Really," he murmured.

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and stood up. "I'll be at work late tonight, so don't wait up for me, okay?"

Jeff nodded, watching her go with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. His mother worked herself to the bone for him, and what had he given her in return? Nothing. He couldn't even be the hunter she had once dreamed he'd become.

The flame on the candle flickered, and Jeff reached over, extinguishing it with a sigh.

---

Hours later, Jeff found himself standing outside the Hunter Association Office in the heart of the city. The building was bustling with activity; hunters and officials moved in and out, exchanging information, preparing for missions, and discussing monster reports. To Jeff, it felt like a world apart — a world he had only ever glimpsed from the outside.

"Here we go," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to step inside.

He joined the line at the reception desk, glancing around nervously. The walls were lined with posters of famous hunters, each one displaying their rank and stats. One poster caught his eye — a tall, imposing figure with a powerful stance. The name Arthur White was printed boldly across the top. His father. One of the top S-rank hunters, celebrated and revered.

Jeff quickly looked away, the sight of his father's face stirring up a storm of emotions he wasn't ready to deal with.

"Next!" the receptionist called, snapping Jeff out of his thoughts.

He stepped forward and handed over his ID, mumbling, "I'm here for an awakening scan."

The receptionist, a woman with bright blue hair and an air of indifference, barely glanced at him as she scanned his card. "Jeff White. No recorded awakening," she noted, her tone flat.

She pointed him toward a small booth near the corner of the lobby. "Place your hand on the scanner, please. If you're still dormant, it'll let us know."

Jeff moved to the scanner, pressing his palm flat against the cool, polished surface. The scanner emitted a faint hum, and a blue light washed over his hand. He held his breath, half expecting the familiar rejection message.

But then… it beeped.

The receptionist blinked in mild surprise. "Congratulations, Mr. White. You've awakened."

Jeff's heart raced. "Really?"

The screen displayed his stats, and the receptionist read them off. "Hunter Classification: F-rank."

The exhilaration he'd felt for those few seconds vanished. F-rank. The lowest rank possible. He was no better than a regular human with a few stat boosts — barely strong enough to handle basic equipment.

The receptionist handed him a printout of his stats and shrugged. "Better late than never, right?"

Jeff took the paper, feeling a strange mixture of anger and shame. His strength, agility, endurance — everything was abysmally low. He was an F-rank through and through, someone even other hunters looked down upon.

"Your hunter license will be mailed to you," the receptionist said, turning her attention to the next person.

Jeff left the building in a daze, staring at the printout in his hands. He had dreamed of awakening, of becoming a hero like his father, maybe even stronger. But an F-rank? What could he possibly achieve with that?

As he walked through the crowded city streets, he passed another billboard showcasing his father's face, smiling confidently as he promoted his elite guild overseas. His father had left him and his mother years ago, casting them aside as if they were nothing. And now, here he was, awakened but still worthless in the eyes of the world.

He clenched his fists, resentment burning in his chest. I'll show them, he thought bitterly. Somehow, I'll prove I'm worth more than this.