Chapter Text
Every day Woo Jin-Chul dedicated an hour to reading status reports on Hunters across the nation—both seasoned and newly awakened. As Chief Inspector of Surveillance for the Korean Hunters Association, he absorbed the brunt of information coming from the departments beneath him before filtering only the most necessary parts to present to the Chairman above. That included minor issues regarding rogue or untrained Hunters.
Power instability in C, D, and E-rank Hunters was far from anomalous. In fact, it was considered concomitant. More a systemic issue than a physical one, these Hunters often found themselves at odds with their abilities purely due to a lack of mentorship and training. Newly awakened Hunters surged with mana, causing rifts in the magical fabric of the world and making for an awful lot of paperwork when they accidentally shattered storefront windows or ripped doors off hinges.
Hunters who manifested as higher ranks were often scooped up by guilds upon determination, giving them ample opportunity to learn from seasoned Hunters of all ranks. However, lower ranks were not so lucky. So, with the Chairman’s imprimatur, Jin-Chul had implemented the first nationwide mentorship service in all counties in Korea. Any newly awakened Hunter could make their way to the nearest county office upon awakening their abilities and be matched to a nearby mentor of the same fighting class who would show them the ropes of harnessing the ebbs and flows of their new powers.
It was a near-perfect solution to a widespread issue. Guilds would protect their own, but those who were unable to sign to a guild could lean on the government-funded Hunter Mentorship Program for guidance prior to joining any dungeon missions.
Perfect, that is, until one E-rank Hunter reawakened as one of the top S-rank Hunters in the world and refused to join a guild. While the greater public acknowledged the sheer might of Sung Jin-Woo’s abilities in pure awe, the top Hunters in the nation raised eyebrows at the lack of regulation from guild or government in the face of this new challenger.
Chairman Go often commented on how lucky they were that a Hunter as powerful as Sung Jin-Woo had a solid head on his shoulders, but Jin-Chul held his reservations. Even the greatest Hunters experienced instability—whether emotionally or physically—and Sung Jin-Woo was no exception.
Despite the repeated efforts of Choi Jong-In and Baek Yoon-Ho to recruit Sung Jin-Woo as a protegee, the elusive young man refused all sorts of offers. Turning down lavish vacations, exorbitant compensation packages, and even free use of Choi Jong-In’s private jet, the newest S-rank remained a free agent and remained raising eyebrows.
Which was why it came as such a shock when Jin-Chul arrived home one evening, after dropping the Chairman off at his estate, to see Hunter Sung standing by the front gate.
It was a particularly wet night, which meant the underground parking lot was bound to be packed with tenants shielding their cars from the deluge. Forced to park above-ground, Jin-Chul scrambled to open his umbrella, erecting his flimsy shield against the elements and wishing he had awoken as a mage class rather than a fighter. At least as a mage class he could conjure a physical barrier between himself instead of relying on a cheap Daiso umbrella hastily purchased during his lunch break.
When he sloshed up to the front gate to his building, a hooded figure stood waiting by the number pad. Barely visible in the stormy night, Jin-Chul only clocked the man’s presence by his mana signature. Thick, cloying, and reminiscent of death and destruction, Sung Jin-Woo’s very presence felt like the crashing waves of an unforgiving sea. Jin-Chul assumed it was also only because Hunter Sung allowed himself to be noticed that he felt his presence.
“Good evening, Chief Inspector,” Jin-Woo said when Jin-Chul looked his way. The younger man gave a dip of his head in a semblance of a bow as he stepped away from the gate. Though his abilities clearly outclassed Jin-Chul’s, Jin-Woo never neglected his manners—despite shoddy execution.
“Hunter Sung,” Jin-Chul said, shutting his umbrella and shaking the excess drops from the clear plastic, “what brings you this late at night?”
They were the same height but Jin-Woo, wrapped in a hoodie and an anorak, looked much larger than Jin-Chul, who only wore a suit. The Hunter lifted and dropped his broad shoulder as he suddenly took a pointed interest in Jin-Chul’s shoes.
“I was hoping we could chat.”
Hunters were an odd sort—especially the most powerful ones. Though Jin-Chul was aware of Sung Jin-Woo’s propensity for introversion, he could not clock any of the Hunter’s usual cold indifference. Instead, the twenty-six-year-old seemed… shy? How peculiar.
“Well, we ought to escape the rain, then.”
Punching his gate code into the door, Jin-Chul let them both into the apartment building and guided Jin-Woo to the elevator. They had never interacted one-on-one before, and though Jin-Chul kept his modest two-bedroom apartment immaculate, he found himself fretting over if his home was presentable. It wasn’t every day he had a guest, let alone one of the most famous person in the country.
“How have your dungeon endeavors been?” Jin-Chul asked as they climbed into the elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor. While government pay was nowhere near that which top-level Hunters earned, Jin-Chul’s position and status enabled him to afford a modest apartment on the outskirts of Seoul. It was nothing to write home about.
“It’s been good. Nothing too eventful since the red gate,” said Jin-Woo. His response was curt, polite, and left much to be desired. Like before, the Hunter seemed preoccupied, his gaze pointed firmly anywhere but Jin-Chul’s face.
When they arrived, Jin-Woo politely looked away as the Chief Inspector inputted his house code and unlocked the front door. Jin-Chul smiled when Jin-Woo mumbled the customary “please excuse my intrusion” as he kicked his sneakers off and left his wet raincoat in the same corner as Jin-Chul’s umbrella.
“Let me put some tea on,” Jin-Chul said. Jin-Woo meandered about the living room, glancing over the sparsely decorated space. Though he dressed like any other twenty-something in Korea, S-class Hunter Sung Jin-Woo loped with the air of an ancient chthonic deity surveying his domain.
Even in the kitchen, with his back turned to the Hunter, Jin-Chul felt the waves of mana that positively oozed from Jin-Woo’s body. Oh, to have so much magical prowess that excess mana released as pure aura. Various S-class, and even A and B-class, Hunters expelled mana as an aura, but none as potent—as purely saccharine—as Hunter Sung.
As dangerous as his aura felt, there was an addictive quality to it. The dark haze lapped at your skin and flicked its long tendrils into your clothes like smoke, gently beckoning you closer until there was no escaping death’s maw.
“You don’t hang pictures of your family,” said Jin-Woo when Jin-Chul invited him to sit at the dining table. Setting a tray of chamomile and cookies down, Jin-Chul poured two cups as Jin-Woo took a seat. The Hunter immediately nabbed a chocolate chip cookie and tossed it into his mouth, accepting the proffered cup with thanks.
“I prefer to keep mementos in my office, closer to where I spend most of my time,” explained Jin-Chul. “There really isn’t much. Just a picture from my college graduation before my father passed. My mother spends most of her time in Busan, her hometown.” He took a sip of the warm tea and relished its soothing sweetness. A cup of chamomile often found its way into his daily rituals. Now, he had the honor of sharing tea with Sung Jin-Woo.
“So, how may I be of service, Hunter Sung?”
Jin-Woo set his cup down onto its saucer with an audible clink, suddenly back to his pensive self. Tapping one finger on the dining table, he cleared his throat and looked up.
“I wanted to ask about the Hunter Mentorship Program,” he said. “It’s… It’s kind of embarrassing, really, but I’ve been going through some stuff and Hunter Cha told me you founded the program.”
The vague words matched with an unusually nervous Hunter made Jin-Chul smile. Taking another sip of his tea, he set his cup down and made a note to thank Hunter Cha for spreading word about his project.
“Hunter Cha is correct. Although, I’m surprised a Hunter with as much field experience and power as yourself is looking for a mentor—if you don’t mind my prying.”
Jin-Woo heaved a long-suffering sigh, his finger moving to trace lazy circles around the edge of his teacup. “It’s not harnessing my powers that I need help with. I have that on lock. It’s more of the… emotional side. I know I’m one of—if not the most—powerful Hunters in the world, but that sort of title comes with a lot of responsibility.
“I feel like I lost a part of myself on the road to becoming this powerful—some human part of myself I can never regain. I need someone who can root me to reality and help me retain my grip on my sanity.
“I was hoping it could be you.”
Raising a single eyebrow, Jin-Chul ruminated over Jin-Woo’s impassioned plea. Steepling his fingers together, he leaned his elbows onto the table and pressed his thumbs against his lips. Given Jin-Woo’s age, Jin-Chul would have expected such existential crises to come later in life, but what did he know about having the weight of the world on his shoulders?
He pitied the young man. Given the overflowing files of tragic accidents and dungeon mishaps that littered Hunter Sung’s past alongside glittering articles about his strength and ability, it was no wonder he felt that he had lost grip with reality. Dungeons were a place of damnation where only the strongest survived. How much carnage had Jin-Woo faced to reach his current state?
“Hunter Sung–”
“Please, call me Jin-Woo,” said the younger man. Slate gray eyes flashed something unreadable as Jin-Woo apologized for interrupting.
“No need to apologize, Jin-Woo,” said Jin-Chul before continuing his original thought. “I can’t imagine the emotional turmoil you’re enduring. While I’m very grateful that you would consider me to be your mentor, I am a fighting class Hunter. That diametrically opposes your mage class. I’m not sure if we would be the right fit.”
A pause struck the conversation and Jin-Chul gnawed on the inside of his cheek, wondering if he knew of any other mage-class Hunter who was powerful enough to take Jin-Woo under his wing. There was Choi Jong-In, but Jin-Chul doubted the S-class Hunter would take Jin-Woo under his wing pro bono. More likely than not, Jong-In would stipulate Jin-Woo join his guild in return for guidance.
Any ordinary person might seek therapy for the trials and tribulations of life they could not explain away, but the world worked differently for Hunters. Though a psychiatrist or family therapist awakened as a Hunter from time to time, few high-ranking Hunters ever sought them out. That was also a pain in Jin-Chul’s side.
“Have you considered dating?” he asked randomly. “Getting a girlfriend could help bring some normalcy into your day-to-day.” From the way Jin-Woo instantly stiffened, shoulders squaring and lips pressing in a thin line, Jin-Chul understood the answer to be ‘no.’
“I–I just don’t… I don’t look at girls that way,” he rambled out, cheeks brightening pink. Jin-Chul had never seen the Hunter look so out of sorts. Perhaps the shy young man who’d survived the double dungeon still dwelled within, protected from the woes of the world by an impenetrable shield of untenable power. When Jin-Woo averted his eyes, Jin-Chul thought his long, dark eyelashes were quite lovely.
He wondered how Jin-Woo envisioned mentorship—if it truly was something more emotionally rooted than physical training, then perhaps finding a mentor could be easier. “My apologies, I only assumed given your closeness with Hunter Cha–”
“She’s just a friend!”
Giving a small laugh, Jin-Chul finished his tea and bowed his head in recognition. He couldn’t help but poke the beehive just a little more. It was almost too much fun seeing just how flustered Jin-Woo became when asked mildly private questions. “Have you considered BDSM? That provides emotional release and is a grounding effort for quite a few people.”
When Jin-Woo lifted his gaze, Jin-Chul thought the man’s blush would burn straight through his skin. The red in his cheeks rivaled even Choi Jong-In’s hottest flames. “I’m… I’ve never…” he muttered sheepishly, “I’ve never considered it.”
“I say that purely as a jo-”
“What would it entail?” Jin-Woo’s earnestness took him aback for a moment. Jin-Chul hadn’t anticipated his evening becoming a crash course on BDSM, but he felt it his duty to provide as much necessary information to Jin-Woo as he needed.
“Well, BDSM is a consensual act between two parties. There’s a dom and there’s a sub. Usually it involves the dom inflicting pain to the sub in various ways, who enjoys it. There can be a sexual nature to it depending on your wants. It’s very consent-based and it behooves the dom to ensure the care of the sub before, during, and after the act. The sub has every opportunity to revoke their consent through agreed-upon safe-words.
“Considering your vast strength and ability, perhaps finding someone who can exert themselves as your master, at least emotionally, could help you find that stability? Leave the dungeons and world-saving behind for a bit and let yourself just feel?”
Throughout his explanation, Jin-Chul kept a close eye on Jin-Woo gauging his reaction for discomfort or indignation. Instead, Jin-Woo sat with his elbows pressed into the table, hands clasped beneath his chin, riveted. If the blush on his cheeks didn’t threaten to turn the Hunter into a tomato, Jin-Chul would have thought the Jin-Woo had become a statue.
Gravely, Jin-Woo released his grip on his own hands and stroked his chin before nodding his head. “I would like to try with you, if you’ll have me.”
If you’ll have me. Given his position as Chief of the Hunter Surveillance Division, Jin-Chul often met and interacted with Hunters of all walks of life. Yet none were as handsome, or even as beautiful, as Hunter Sung. Jin-Chul would be lying if he claimed to have never thought of Hunter Sung in a romantic sense. However, his dedication to his work and unyielding professionalism begged to differ.
Yet the question caught him so off guard that Jin-Chul had no response ready other than to splutter out, “This is a wholly unorthodox method of mentorship.”
Jin-Woo agreed. “I assume you have experience, though?”
This time, it was Jin-Chul’s turn to blush. Nodding his head, he recalled a time when he had work-life balance and would pursue extracurricular activities. “I admit, it’s been a while since I’ve dominated anyone. Work keeps me tied to my desk more often than not.”
“Then let’s try it.”
Mouth agape, Jin-Chul looked around to see if he was being pranked. Were there cameras pre-installed in his home to catch the Chief Inspector off guard? There was no way. His private residence was not common knowledge and while this conversation was so off the rails from what he was used to, Jin-Chul had no doubt that Jin-Woo would not have sought him out for mere games.
“I–I would have to consult the Chairman. This is wholly unorthodox behavior for a civilian to request of a government employee,” Jin-Chul explained. Suddenly finding himself blushing, he ran a hand through his hair before pressing his palm into his cheek. He felt warm to his own touch. “There are procedures to follow for the mentorship program and the measures you’re requesting are… well, unorthodox.”
“You repeat yourself when you’re nervous,” Jin-Woo commented.
Damn him. Very few Hunter-related issues ever caught Jin-Chul off guard; he’d seen it all. Every single aspect of Hunter behavior was well within his purview and watchful gaze. Well, every aspect except for Sung Jin-Woo. The Hunter had it out for Jin-Chul’s blood pressure.
Jin-Woo continued as Jin-Chul attempted to parse a response. “I would appreciate it if we could go about this as private citizens, then. Consider it woo-woo fears of government, but perhaps the details of your mentorship could take place between private individuals? Just so we don’t have to jump through the embarrassing hoops of my own mental stability and your hand in the matter.”
That was also certainly a way to go about it. No government oversight meant there was more opportunity for Jin-Chul to get to know Jin-Woo and administer to his needs accordingly. Fewer bureaucratic hoops and much less paperwork in the long run.
“Private citizens,” Jin-Chul echoed.
“Yes. I’d like to enter this relationship with you willingly and privately. If it doesn’t work, then so be it. If it does, then you’ll be helping me immensely. And I like to think that you might get something out of it as well.”
A pregnant silence settled between them and Jin-Chul pressed his palms into his eyes, resting his elbow into the table. This was too much thinking for someone who’d clocked out hours ago. Mulling over Jin-Woo’s proposition, he thought of the last time he’d ever dominated anyone.
It had to have been almost four years ago—before his career had taken an exponential curve upward. Now, he had so much to do that there was hardly any time to consider his own needs.
Jin-Woo is beautiful too… Clean-cut and well-kempt… His own thoughts betrayed him.
“May I think about it for a day or two?” asked Jin-Chul. Finally lifting his gaze, he blinked back the fuzzy spores that danced across his vision in his attempt to focus on Jin-Woo. “This is… quite a lot to digest.”
Standing, Jin-Woo nodded his head. “Of course. Take the time you need. I’m willing to take this jump, but only if you’re willing to take it with me. Regardless of how you feel about the SM stuff, I’d still like you to be my mentor.”
Jin-Chul reached into his pocket and removed his phone. Holding it out toward Jin-Woo he offered a placating smile. “May I have your number so I can reach you?”
Jin-Woo took the phone and tapped his number in. “How very forward of you, Mr. Woo. Will you ask me on a date as well?”
At the sight of his coy smile spreading across pink lips and those beautiful eyes, Jin-Chul lost the ability to speak. Nothing sounded better than a date with the Hunter.
As a wash of highly unprofessional thoughts overcame his brain, Jin-Chul forced himself to focus. “Let’s start with friends?” he managed to say as Jin-Woo handed him back his phone.
Sung Jin-Woo
(010) 0000-0000
“I appreciate the tea and conversation. It was very kind of you. Goodnight, Chief Inspector.”
When Jin-Woo melted into the shadow beneath his feet, Jin-Chul barely had the energy to react. He made a mental note to add teleportation to the file of the Hunter’s abilities.
“Why did he bother with the front door if he can… ah fuck it.”