In-su sat in the cold, metallic room, feeling as out of place as a goldfish in a desert. Around him, members of the Scourge Unit sat like battle-hardened warriors—scarred, intimidating, and armed to the teeth. Each person had an air of confidence that screamed, I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Meanwhile, In-su looked like he'd wandered in from the wrong century. Yes he is in the wrong century.
"How did I get here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, slouching in his chair. His mind raced with a mix of confusion and existential dread. Okay, so let me get this straight. The job I applied for online? Turns out, it's in the year 2130. And the job description, which I didn't read properly because who even reads those things? It's for monster slayers. MONSTER SLAYERS. Look at me! Do I look like someone who slays anything other than flies?
He let out a dramatic sigh, the kind that made his shoulders drop like he was carrying the weight of the universe—or at least his regret. Sitting next to him was a man who radiated danger, someone who looked like he could break bones for fun and not even sweat. The guy's name tag read Hye-min. His sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and piercing eyes were the kind of features that would make him the villain in any action movie.
As In-su sighed again, louder this time, Hye-min turned his head slowly to give him a look. It wasn't just any look; it was the kind that could make you question all your life choices.
Feeling the pressure of Hye-min's gaze, In-su panicked and tried to diffuse the tension. "Haha, you must also be part of the new recruits, right?" he said with a nervous chuckle, his voice cracking slightly.
Hye-min's expression didn't change. If anything, his glare became sharper, his dark eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly. After a long, painfully awkward pause, he finally spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "Shut the fuck up, Hatchling."
In-su blinked, stunned. Hatchling? Did he just call me Hatchling? What the hell does that even mean?
His brain scrambled to process the insult. Okay, let's break this down. Hatchling. Like a baby bird? A little chick fresh out of the egg? So... helpless, clueless, and completely useless?
His inner monologue spiraled. Oh my god. He's calling me useless. I knew I was out of my depth, but this? This is a whole new level of humiliation. And why does he have to look so cool while insulting me?
Desperate to salvage the situation, In-su forced a laugh, though it sounded more like a dying seal. "Hatchling, huh? That's... uh... a unique nickname," he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Hye-min didn't even blink. His gaze stayed locked on In-su, unflinching. "If you think I'm joking, Hatchling, you're dumber than you look," he said, his voice as cutting as a blade.
In-su's smile froze. Dumber than I look? Wow, okay. Just go ahead and stomp on what's left of my dignity.
He slumped back in his chair, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Hye-min's words. Hatchling. Great. That's my legacy now. The guy who shows up to his first day of work and immediately gets labeled as a baby bird.
He glanced at Hye-min again, hoping for a sign of softness or humor. There was none. The man was a human glacier—cold, unyielding, and impossible to read.
Why couldn't I have ended up next to someone friendly? Like, I don't know, a grandmotherly type who hands out cookies and says encouraging things? No, I get him. The walking embodiment of intimidation.
As Hye-min turned his attention back to the front of the room, In-su let out another dramatic sigh, quieter this time. "Hatchling," he muttered under his breath. "Perfect. Just perfect. I'm officially the joke of 2130."
He rested his head in his hands, his mind racing with a mix of self-pity and desperation. I just want to go back to 2025. Back to a world where my biggest problem was paying rent on time. Is that too much to ask?
But deep down, he knew there was no going back. This was his new reality, and if he wanted to survive, he'd have to prove that he was more than just a clueless Hatchling. But first, he thought, glancing nervously at Hye-min again, I need to figure out how to not piss him off any further.
A loud clap echoed through the cavernous briefing room, cutting through the murmurs and shuffling like a crack of thunder. Conversations died mid-sentence, and every head turned toward the stage. Standing there was a woman whose presence demanded attention, even from the most inattentive recruits. Her hair was a striking shade of silver-grey, cascading in soft waves down to her shoulders, catching the dim fluorescent light in a way that made it seem almost metallic. She moved with the kind of confidence that didn't just suggest authority—it declared it.
Her outfit was nothing short of a spectacle. It looked as though someone had raided a high-fashion designer's studio during the apocalypse and decided to mix elegance with survival gear. A sleek double-slit dress hugged her frame, its dark material rippling like liquid shadow with every step she took. Beneath the slits, combat boots peeked out—worn, scuffed, and unmistakably practical for battle. Her shoulders were adorned with armor-like pads, giving her the air of a warrior queen, while fingerless gloves completed the ensemble, exposing just enough skin to suggest she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. She looked like the type of person who could stab you in a dark alley and make it feel like a privilege.
Her eyes scanned the room like a hawk searching for prey, and the room seemed to shrink under her gaze. There was a tangible shift in the atmosphere, as though the very air had decided to behave better in her presence. She exuded an aura of cool, calculated authority, but there was an edge of unpredictability that made you wonder if she might suddenly throw a knife for emphasis—or just for fun.
"Alright, listen up, Vanguards!" she barked, her voice slicing through the heavy silence like a whip. It wasn't the shrill, strained yell of someone trying too hard to command respect. No, this was the voice of someone who already had it and wouldn't hesitate to remind you if you forgot.
In-su, sitting somewhere near the middle of the room, immediately regretted everything that had brought him to this moment. Why did I clap? Why did I even come here? Oh, right—because I thought this was just a cushy desk job! Monster slaying, my ass. This is all a nightmare. I'll wake up any second now… any second… nope, still here.
The woman continued, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Welcome aboard, my Vanguards! NOW, on our first mission—"
In-su, as usual, wasn't paying full attention. His eyes were glued to the woman's boots. Why are her boots so intimidating? Who looks that good in combat boots? She probably kicks people in the throat for sport. Oh, God. She's definitely going to kick me in the throat, isn't she?
Before she could finish, something within him—some mix of panic, regret, and sheer stupidity—compelled In-su to raise his hand. His arm shot up so fast it was as if someone had offered him a life raft in the middle of a shipwreck.
The woman froze mid-sentence, her head snapping toward him like a predator sensing movement. The room collectively held its breath. Even the air seemed to hesitate.
Her brow arched in a way that could only be described as lethal. "What is it, rookie?" she asked, her tone laced with the kind of politeness that felt more dangerous than outright hostility.
In-su swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he could take it back. But it was too late now. "Uh, ma'am," he began, his voice wavering. "The job I, uh… applied for… didn't exactly say we'd be, you know, slaying monsters. So I, uh, am a little confused?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward him, and he could feel their collective judgment like a physical weight.
From somewhere to his left, Hye-min snorted loudly, the sound dripping with derision. "Pussy," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for In-su to hear.
In-su ignored him—or at least tried to. Don't rise to it. He's just trying to get under your skin. It's fine. Totally fine. Except it's NOT FINE BECAUSE SHE'S STARING AT ME LIKE SHE'S ABOUT TO TURN ME INTO A MONSTER SHISH KEBAB.
The woman on stage tilted her head slightly, her expression one of almost clinical disbelief. "Rookie," she said slowly, her voice dangerously calm. "Did you actually read the instructions before applying?"
In-su hesitated, his brain scrambling for an answer that wouldn't make him look like the biggest idiot in the room. "Uh… yeah?" he said, though it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, really?" she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "SO WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL ASKING ME THIS QUESTION, ROOKIE?" she roared, the sudden shift in volume making everyone in the room flinch.
In-su jolted in his seat, his heart racing. Okay, she's mad. She's definitely mad. Great job, In-su. Way to make a first impression. This is fine. Totally fine. Not like my life is flashing before my eyes or anything.
"Uh, hypothetically," he stammered, "if I wanted to, like… go? As in, not work here anymore? Could I… do that?"
The woman stared at him for a long moment, her expression a mix of disbelief and barely-contained fury. She let out a slow, exasperated sigh before motioning to someone offstage.
An assistant appeared, holding a tablet. The woman tapped a few times before holding it up for In-su to see. The screen displayed a clause in bold, glowing letters: "BY APPLYING TO THE SCOURGE UNIT, YOU IRREVOCABLY AGREE TO SERVE. TERMINATION OF EMPLOYMENT IS NOT AN OPTION."
In-su's eyes widened in horror. "What?! I swear I didn't see this there!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.
The woman arched a brow. "Mm-hmm. Now you see. Now sit your ass down and let me continue my speech, honey," she said, her tone sickly sweet but with an edge sharp enough to cut glass.
In-su sank back into his seat, utterly defeated. His mind raced with a mix of panic and indignation. What kind of shady operation is this? Irrevocably agree to serve? That's not a job; that's indentured servitude! This has to be illegal. Oh my God, I'm trapped. I'm actually trapped. This is where I die.
As Lady resumed her speech, In-su couldn't help but spiral deeper into his thoughts.
"Maybe I can fake my death and run away... no, they'd probably find me. People like this always find you. Or maybe I can pretend I'm incompetent, and they'll fire me? Wait, can they fire me if quitting isn't allowed? What if they just... kill me instead? Oh god, I'm so screwed."
Lady's voice broke through his inner monologue. "Now, as I was saying—your first mission will test your teamwork, adaptability, and survival instincts. Most of you will fail. But failure isn't an option here."
In-su raised his hand again.
Lady paused, her gaze narrowing. "What now, rookie?"
He lowered his hand slightly. "Uh... so, like... when you say 'failure isn't an option,' do you mean that literally, or...?"
Lady stared at him for a long moment before turning to the rest of the group. "If anyone hears rookie complaining, feel free to slap him. Now—move out!"
He glanced around the room, hoping for some sign of solidarity. But the other recruits looked unbothered, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Hye-min, seated beside him, smirked smugly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
"Pathetic," Hye-min murmured, barely moving his lips.
In-su shot him a glare. "And you're a jerk," he whispered back.
As the others stood and prepared for their first mission, In-su stayed rooted in his chair, his mind racing. "First day on the job, and I've already been threatened, mocked, and potentially doomed to a life of monster-slaying servitude. What could possibly go wrong next?"
Unfortunately for In-su, he was about to find out.