Yoon-seo had forty-five minutes before the briefing started.
She sat down at Kang Chae-won's vanity table — an enormous mirror ringed with LED lights, its surface crowded with perfume bottles and compact cases she didn't know how to use in what order — and did the only thing she could think to do.
She reviewed.
Alright. Quick summary. I'm inside Era of the Apocalypse: The Awakened King, a web novel — urban fantasy, Hunter genre, the kind with weekly update schedules and cliffhangers the author drops before vanishing for two weeks without explanation.
The world had woken up roughly ten years ago, when dungeon gates began appearing across the earth's surface like fractures in space. Inside them: monsters, resources, and things that had no business existing in a normal world. Alongside the dungeons came people with abilities — Hunters — ranked from F at the bottom to the rare, globally-known S at the top.
The male lead was Kwon Si-jun: rank S, team leader of one of the most decorated Hunter squads in the country. Kind, powerful, beloved. The kind of protagonist readers fell for in chapter one and never stopped rooting for no matter what the story did to them.
And I — that is, Chae-won — am the villain of chapter fifty. Funding the team with the Kang family's money, causing enough trouble, and eventually being written out of the story in the way readers would call deserved.
Kang Chae-won's ending: she abandons her teammates when the dungeon collapses. The male lead's team finishes her off. Nobody mourns.
Yoon-seo looked down at the hands resting on the vanity — Chae-won's hands, nails painted deep red without a chip. Hands that had never done anything rough in their life.
I won't do that. I won't leave anyone behind. I've read to the final chapter — I know which traps are coming, which dungeons are lethal, which supposed allies are anything but.
That was her one advantage. She intended to use every inch of it.
The system panel reappeared — not the mission notification this time, but a new screen, colder blue, with a header she didn't remember tapping.
[TARGET PROFILE — DESIGNATED CONQUEST OBJECTIVE] Name: Kwon Si-woo Age: 26 Rank: A — unofficial, unconfirmed Ability: Dark Attribute — classification: cursed Current status: Member, Kwon Si-jun's team / True objective: undetermined Threat level to user: ■■■■■ CRITICAL ⚠ Warning: Target has previously inflicted serious harm on Kang Chae-won in the original timeline. Approach with extreme caution.
Previously inflicted serious harm.
Yoon-seo read that line twice.
That was the scene she had skimmed while her ramen was boiling over. She tried to drag it back — beef-flavored instant noodles, screen slightly fogged with steam — and retrieved only the vaguest impression: darkness, something red, and the fact that she had scrolled past it fairly quickly because the dungeon battle in the next chapter had looked more interesting.
Fantastic. Truly excellent information management.
The problem wasn't that she didn't know Si-woo was dangerous. She'd known that much. The problem was how little she knew about why he did the things he did. She knew the ending — he betrays the team, has a revenge plan against the family that discarded him, the cursed power consumes him, he loses. But between abandoned child and decides to destroy everything was a gap she had read past for two years running.
She looked at the words true objective: undetermined and felt something settle uneasily in her chest.
The system didn't know what Si-woo actually wanted. It only knew he was dangerous, and that she had to conquer him. And she — having read the whole story — didn't know much more than that.
Alright. Revised plan. Step one: observe. Step two: don't die.
She stood and faced the wardrobe.
Fifteen minutes later, Yoon-seo walked out of the room in the most low-effort outfit she'd been able to assemble from Chae-won's closet by the sole criterion of: this looks the least like I'm trying. White blouse, black trousers, low heels. In Chae-won's wardrobe, that was practically casual. She didn't know what a chaebol heiress wore to a Hunter team briefing, but she was reasonably confident that not wearing a white lace dress was the right call.
---
Kwon Tower occupied the kind of address that announced itself before you arrived.
Forty-seventh floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire skyline. She'd known this from the novel. What she hadn't known was that the elevator smelled faintly of roasted coffee and played soft jazz, and that the feeling of actually standing inside this space — not reading about it, but standing in it — would take several seconds to breathe through.
This is real.
Not a page. Not a phone screen at two in the morning. Air, light, sound. Real.
She pushed open the briefing room door.
Five people.
Kwon Si-jun sat at the head of the table — taller than she'd imagined, with the kind of gaze that came from years of assessing threats before they fully materialized. Two other members she recognized from the story — Lee Ha-eun, offense; Choi Min-seok, defense — sat together at the far end and stopped talking when she walked in. The fourth was Manager Park Jun-ho, who had sent the message this morning, and who was currently watching her with the careful expression of someone trying to determine whether something was different about Chae-won today and not yet able to name what.
And in the corner of the room, standing two steps back from the table, not seated with the others —
Kwon Si-woo was looking out the window.
Yoon-seo didn't know what she'd been expecting. She'd probably been imagining him the way web novels described dangerous characters — dark hair, cold eyes, the particular stillness of something that has learned to be patient. She'd read enough of those descriptions to know the formula.
But Si-woo — the actual person, not the character — looked like this: medium height, shoulders slightly broad, dressed in dark colors the way someone does when they dress for function rather than effect. He stood completely still, without the small unconscious restlessness people usually had while waiting. And something in the way he was positioned — slightly apart from the group, not touching the wall, not close to the door — looked like someone who had made a habit of knowing where the exits were before he needed them.
She stepped into the room.
He turned.
She had prepared herself for a cold look. For hostility, for calculation, for whatever a five-star threat-level character directed at the story's villainess.
She had not prepared for complete indifference.
Kwon Si-woo looked at her for exactly one second — not hostile, not calculating, just the brief assessment of someone checking whether something was worth paying attention to — and then turned back to the window.
Conclusion, clearly: no.
Yoon-seo sat down in the nearest chair and kept her expression at the flattest register Chae-won's face could manage.
Alright, she thought. He's not planning to kill me today. That's progress.
You've reached the end of this chapter
Yoon-seo had forty-five minutes before the briefing started.
She sat down at Kang Chae-won's vanity table — an enormous mirror ringed with LED lights, its surface crowded with perfume bottles and compact cases she didn't know how to use in what order — and did the only thing she could think to do.
She reviewed.
Alright. Quick summary. I'm inside Era of the Apocalypse: The Awakened King, a web novel — urban fantasy, Hunter genre, the kind with weekly update schedules and cliffhangers the author drops before vanishing for two weeks without explanation.
The world had woken up roughly ten years ago, when dungeon gates began appearing across the earth's surface like fractures in space. Inside them: monsters, resources, and things that had no business existing in a normal world. Alongside the dungeons came people with abilities — Hunters — ranked from F at the bottom to the rare, globally-known S at the top.
The male lead was Kwon Si-jun: rank S, team leader of one of the most decorated Hunter squads in the country. Kind, powerful, beloved. The kind of protagonist readers fell for in chapter one and never stopped rooting for no matter what the story did to them.
And I — that is, Chae-won — am the villain of chapter fifty. Funding the team with the Kang family's money, causing enough trouble, and eventually being written out of the story in the way readers would call deserved.
Kang Chae-won's ending: she abandons her teammates when the dungeon collapses. The male lead's team finishes her off. Nobody mourns.
Yoon-seo looked down at the hands resting on the vanity — Chae-won's hands, nails painted deep red without a chip. Hands that had never done anything rough in their life.
I won't do that. I won't leave anyone behind. I've read to the final chapter — I know which traps are coming, which dungeons are lethal, which supposed allies are anything but.
That was her one advantage. She intended to use every inch of it.
The system panel reappeared — not the mission notification this time, but a new screen, colder blue, with a header she didn't remember tapping.
[TARGET PROFILE — DESIGNATED CONQUEST OBJECTIVE] Name: Kwon Si-woo Age: 26 Rank: A — unofficial, unconfirmed Ability: Dark Attribute — classification: cursed Current status: Member, Kwon Si-jun's team / True objective: undetermined Threat level to user: ■■■■■ CRITICAL ⚠ Warning: Target has previously inflicted serious harm on Kang Chae-won in the original timeline. Approach with extreme caution.
Previously inflicted serious harm.
Yoon-seo read that line twice.
That was the scene she had skimmed while her ramen was boiling over. She tried to drag it back — beef-flavored instant noodles, screen slightly fogged with steam — and retrieved only the vaguest impression: darkness, something red, and the fact that she had scrolled past it fairly quickly because the dungeon battle in the next chapter had looked more interesting.
Fantastic. Truly excellent information management.
The problem wasn't that she didn't know Si-woo was dangerous. She'd known that much. The problem was how little she knew about why he did the things he did. She knew the ending — he betrays the team, has a revenge plan against the family that discarded him, the cursed power consumes him, he loses. But between abandoned child and decides to destroy everything was a gap she had read past for two years running.
She looked at the words true objective: undetermined and felt something settle uneasily in her chest.
The system didn't know what Si-woo actually wanted. It only knew he was dangerous, and that she had to conquer him. And she — having read the whole story — didn't know much more than that.
Alright. Revised plan. Step one: observe. Step two: don't die.
She stood and faced the wardrobe.
Fifteen minutes later, Yoon-seo walked out of the room in the most low-effort outfit she'd been able to assemble from Chae-won's closet by the sole criterion of: this looks the least like I'm trying. White blouse, black trousers, low heels. In Chae-won's wardrobe, that was practically casual. She didn't know what a chaebol heiress wore to a Hunter team briefing, but she was reasonably confident that not wearing a white lace dress was the right call.
---
Kwon Tower occupied the kind of address that announced itself before you arrived.
Forty-seventh floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire skyline. She'd known this from the novel. What she hadn't known was that the elevator smelled faintly of roasted coffee and played soft jazz, and that the feeling of actually standing inside this space — not reading about it, but standing in it — would take several seconds to breathe through.
This is real.
Not a page. Not a phone screen at two in the morning. Air, light, sound. Real.
She pushed open the briefing room door.
Five people.
Kwon Si-jun sat at the head of the table — taller than she'd imagined, with the kind of gaze that came from years of assessing threats before they fully materialized. Two other members she recognized from the story — Lee Ha-eun, offense; Choi Min-seok, defense — sat together at the far end and stopped talking when she walked in. The fourth was Manager Park Jun-ho, who had sent the message this morning, and who was currently watching her with the careful expression of someone trying to determine whether something was different about Chae-won today and not yet able to name what.
And in the corner of the room, standing two steps back from the table, not seated with the others —
Kwon Si-woo was looking out the window.
Yoon-seo didn't know what she'd been expecting. She'd probably been imagining him the way web novels described dangerous characters — dark hair, cold eyes, the particular stillness of something that has learned to be patient. She'd read enough of those descriptions to know the formula.
But Si-woo — the actual person, not the character — looked like this: medium height, shoulders slightly broad, dressed in dark colors the way someone does when they dress for function rather than effect. He stood completely still, without the small unconscious restlessness people usually had while waiting. And something in the way he was positioned — slightly apart from the group, not touching the wall, not close to the door — looked like someone who had made a habit of knowing where the exits were before he needed them.
She stepped into the room.
He turned.
She had prepared herself for a cold look. For hostility, for calculation, for whatever a five-star threat-level character directed at the story's villainess.
She had not prepared for complete indifference.
Kwon Si-woo looked at her for exactly one second — not hostile, not calculating, just the brief assessment of someone checking whether something was worth paying attention to — and then turned back to the window.
Conclusion, clearly: no.
Yoon-seo sat down in the nearest chair and kept her expression at the flattest register Chae-won's face could manage.
Alright, she thought. He's not planning to kill me today. That's progress.
You've reached the end of this chapter