“Sorry. Really sorry. Something urgent came up, so my half-day leave got canceled.”

…Should I just destroy this whole world?

Forget its worth or whatever… isn’t it completely pointless?

“Did you get your report card?”

“Sorry, I’m just a newbie, so I have no powerㅠㅠ.”

“Let’s at least have a late dinner after my shift. I’ll bring some meat, and we can grill it at home.”

“Why aren’t you replying?”

But seeing my sibling keep sending messages to cheer me up drained away any energy I had to be annoyed. Honestly, he’s probably the most irritated about his canceled half-day leave.

Right, what did my sibling ever do wrong?

The blame lies squarely on the company that rejected a new employee’s half-day leave request and on the corporate culture where employees have to worry about their bosses’ moods. These corrupted demons of capitalism.

I hesitated, then sent a reply.

“Should I just destroy the company for you?”

My reply seemed to relieve him, as he sent back a laughing message.

“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ.”

“I just got the job, so you can’t destroy it. Otherwise, I won’t get paid.”

Well then. Another company narrowly escaped annihilation today.

“What kind of meat should I bring?”

Rejecting a demon offering free labor—what a fool. Even so, I sighed and replied.

“Beef.”

Sympathy is one thing, but I still need to eat. I sighed again.

Might as well head to work. With that, I trudged out of the school gate and waited for the usual bus. Across the street, a small TV in a convenience store window caught my eye.

The screen was broadcasting breaking news.

“This just in: Today, during the Awakened Ability Test conducted at a high school in Eunpyeong District, Seoul, a new S-rank hunter has been discovered. This is the 11th S-rank hunter to emerge in Korea. We are awaiting further details.”

That’s about me.

It hasn’t even been a few hours since the ability test ended, and the news is already out.

Well, considering this is a nationwide test, I guess some media outlets posted reporters near schools just in case there was a story. Lucky guess, I suppose.

“Thinking about it, it’s almost a good thing his leave got canceled.”

If something urgent came up at work, they wouldn’t have time to care about breaking news. Better this than my sibling hearing about me being an S-rank and rushing out of the office in a panic.

That was about the extent of my thoughts.

After all, since I’m still a minor, I figured my face wouldn’t hit the media just yet. At least not until the Hunter Management Agency contacted me.

But that was a mistake. I underestimated the competitiveness of modern media in our hyper-connected world.

What even is Korea’s privacy law worth, anyway?

“Ah, enough! I don’t know who you’re talking about, so just get out!”

“Come on, boss, don’t be like that…”

“If you keep this up, I’ll report you for interfering with business, got it?!”

“Oh, no, I just—!”

A reporter with a camera was kicked out of the old supermarket by the owner, who was wielding a broom. As he stumbled outside, he pointed at me, stuttering “uh, uh,” before being chased out completely.

The frosted glass door slammed shut. The owner locked it, probably expecting the reporter to barge back in. There were a few knocks on the door, but they stopped soon enough. The owner spat out a wad of gum into a tissue.

“Ugh, today’s business is done for.”

“You sound like you’re running some shady operation when you say things like that, boss.”

I set my bag down near my usual chair and replied.

“And why can’t you just do business? Just talk to the reporters and sell them expensive stuff.”

“No way. What fancy stuff do I have in this dump?”

“Expired eggs?”

“Hey, stop spouting nonsense.”

A shabby supermarket in a slum. And a nearly 70-year-old woman. This was my workplace and my employer. I’ve been working here since middle school, so it’s been about four years now.

It was a long-standing connection. When my sibling turned 20, we left the orphanage together, but the support money for orphans only got us a place in this neighborhood in Seoul.

The old lady who ran this supermarket struck up a conversation when she saw a young man with a little girl. Over time, she started giving us slightly wilted vegetables or bags of snacks. That’s how we became familiar.

Eventually, I started watching the shop when she went to physical therapy. Then I got an allowance for it. Finally, she suggested I just work part-time. That’s how it happened.

Of course, this dingy supermarket wasn’t exactly thriving enough to pay me a legal minimum wage.

“Still, Da-on, is that real?”

The owner pointed to the small TV attached to the shop wall, her expression serious. Though she had lived in Seoul for 30 years, she still slipped into her regional dialect when talking to close people.

“That S-rank hunter they’re talking about—is that you? The high school in Eunpyeong District… that’s your school, isn’t it?”

“Did my name already come out?”

“They didn’t mention a name, but the reporters came here. So is it true?”

“It’s true. That’s why the reporters showed up.”

“Oh my!”

The owner let out a near-scream and grabbed both my hands.

“This is unbelievable. My goodness, an S-rank hunter?!”

“That’s how it turned out.”

“They say hunters make good money.”

“I guess so.”

“But still, isn’t it dangerous?”

“It’s not that dangerous. Don’t worry about it. By the way, boss, what did the reporters ask?”

“Don’t even ask. You don’t need to know.”

She cut me off firmly. Not that I needed to hear to know. My family background is easy to uncover around the school, and quick reporters probably already dug into what happened in the auditorium.

A student with a tragic family history, bullied despite being a top student, awakens as an S-rank hunter.

It’s the kind of sensational story YouTube vultures would drool over. Or something TV networks would spin into an inspiring “triumph of the human spirit” tale. Just thinking about it made me want to puke. Fitting, given my past life as a Demon King.

“Anyway, it got so quiet all of a sudden.”

The owner pressed her ear to the frosted glass, listening, then shook her head.

“Looks like they’re gone. That’s a relief. Or are they staking out your house?”

“No, it’s fine near my place. Boss, I don’t think I can keep working here. I’d only cause trouble if I stayed.”

With reporters finding their way here, a normal life was out of the question. After all, an S-rank hunter is rare globally, and my sudden awakening without any prior signs was bound to attract attention.

“Thank you for everything.”

Her aged hands squeezed mine as her eyes welled up.

 

“Oh, don’t say that. I couldn’t even pay you much. I should’ve done more for you.”

“You’ve already done more than enough.”

Even though I wasn’t earning the legal minimum wage, I knew it wasn’t because she didn’t want to pay me properly. Capitalism has a way of making even the kindest people struggle to do right by others. The problem wasn’t her; it was the system.

Her kindness had been a constant in my life.

Having experienced what I did in my previous life, I didn’t trust human kindness easily. It’s not that I deny its existence entirely, but I’ve seen how quickly it bends under pressure and dissolves over time. It’s fleeting at best, never eternal.

Still, I was grateful for her warmth. My sibling, too, had always appreciated the care she showed us. In a society where kindness so often curdles into cruelty, this place had been a rare exception, a haven where we could feel connected.

“You’ll still go to physical therapy even if I’m not here, right? I’ll come visit often.”

“Of course, of course. Come by anytime, and I’ll cook something for you.”

Up until that moment, it might have seemed like a touching scene straight out of a heartwarming TV drama.

But I had forgotten one crucial detail.

I am the least suitable person in the world for a heartwarming tale.

Click!

The supermarket door opened.

A man walked in, as casually as if nothing unusual was happening.

“Excuse me, are you open today?”

The owner quickly wiped her tears, let go of my hands, and stood up.

“Yes, of course. Come on in.”

The man looked to be in his early thirties. His clothes were unremarkable, and his face was the kind you could easily forget. He wasn’t carrying a camera, and nothing about him screamed “reporter.” He wandered over to the snack aisle and picked up a bag of chips.

“How much is this?”

“1,200 won.”

“Do you accept cards?”

“Of course, though I’d prefer cash. Young people these days never carry cash.”

A perfectly ordinary conversation.

He looked like just another customer.

But that didn’t make sense.

I was genuinely more shocked than I’d been when the system first identified me earlier today.

How?

While chatting with the owner and watching reporters get chased away, I had cast a spell to ensure no one could approach this place unnoticed. If not for that, the reporters would have swarmed this tiny supermarket the moment they spotted me.

Even though my mana was only at Level 12 and I could only manage basic illusion magic, it wasn’t a spell that could be broken so easily.

Because it was a spell unique to me. A spell born of the Demon King’s magic.

And demonic magic isn’t something that can be dispelled without knowing the exact counterspell. Yet here was this man, casually walking into the shop as if my barrier didn’t even exist!

This was akin to someone withdrawing all the money from my account without even entering the PIN.

‘The Thorn of the Millwheel’ has been dispelled.

The system message confirmed the impossible had happened.

As a Demon King and a master sorcerer, I knew this shouldn’t be possible. The collective intelligence behind the system must have malfunctioned somehow. This was wrong—completely and utterly wrong!

Magic has been dispelled. A penalty will be applied.

Temporary movement restrictions have been imposed.

Remaining time: 00:01:00.

And now this—penalties, too.

Overwhelmed by shock, rage, and the penalty freezing me in place, I could only watch helplessly as the man reached into his pocket as if to pull out a wallet.

Knowing something was about to happen but being unable to stop it felt like a profound humiliation.

Then, just as his hand emerged, a sudden flash of light burst forth.

“Boss!”

Boom!

An explosion.

The flash of light expanded, consuming the entire space in an instant.

The last thing I saw before everything was swallowed was the mocking message from the system.

A dungeon break has occurred.

Clear the dungeon.