To think it would be revealed this way.
Still, a tremendous sense of liberation washed over me, realizing I wouldn’t have to act anymore.
It was as if a heavy cloak I’d worn for so long had finally been shed, allowing me to breathe freely.
The tension that had coiled in my shoulders for weeks, perhaps months, began to unwind, replaced by a quiet sense of relief.
The constant vigilance, the careful choice of words, the deliberate control of my expressions—all of it could finally be put to rest.
A hidden part of my life, one that demanded constant maintenance, was now out in the open, and the thought was surprisingly exhilarating.
“What’s your nickname?”
“Should I say… ‘Me’?”
No, that would absolutely not do.
The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine.
If my identity as the Rank 0 Hunter was revealed, my face and personal information would spread in an instant, and that would cause me a lot of inconvenience.
A cascade of unwanted attention, intrusive questions, and endless scrutiny would descend upon me.
I still had countless unsealed skills, each one a mystery waiting to be unlocked, and my movements couldn’t be restricted.
My quest performance, my very ability to explore and grow, depended on my anonymity.
I only needed to look at Yeon Hayeon’s or the Four Heavenly Kings’ lives to understand the sheer scale of the disruption.
Their lives were a constant circus of public appearances, fan interactions, and relentless media attention.
My life before transmigrating was already practically Hollywood-star-level with almost no privacy, but here, in this world where Awakened Ones held such immense power and celebrity, it was even worse.
The thought of being constantly hounded, every move documented, every personal moment dissected, was truly daunting.
People’s eyes would follow me wherever I went, analyzing my every gesture, my every expression.
Reporters would appear out of nowhere, seemingly materializing from thin air, trailing me to cover the daily lives of famous hunters, transforming my private existence into a public spectacle.
The moment my identity was exposed, it wouldn’t just interfere with quest performance; it would be perfect for getting entangled in troublesome situations.
I pictured myself constantly dodging cameras, inventing excuses, and navigating a labyrinth of expectations.
It was a future I desperately wanted to avoid, a cage of fame that would stifle my progress and my peace of mind.
“It’s a secret.”
“Secret, secret…”
“No, the nickname isn’t ‘Secret.’ I can’t tell you the nickname.”
“What? Why?!”
Shin Sena clearly misunderstood me, thinking “Secret” was the nickname she should be looking for, so I clarified, feeling a touch of exasperation but also a perverse amusement at her persistence.
I quickly blurted out the first excuse that came to mind, a half-truth wrapped in a shroud of embarrassment.
“Because I didn’t know it would be revealed, so I picked a super embarrassing nickname.”
After saying it, I looked around, almost bracing myself for their reactions, and saw Shin Sena’s dumbfounded expression, Ban Eunhyeol’s hollow laugh, a sound devoid of genuine mirth but full of ironic amusement, and Ji Ganghan’s ambiguous expression—somewhere between a smile and a blank stare—in that order.
Their varied reactions, a mix of bewilderment and faint understanding, were almost comedic.
“Then I just need to find an embarrassing nickname.”
Shin Sena, unwilling to give up, her eyes narrowing in determination, glared at the air again, as if the answer to my secret nickname would magically appear before her.
Her tenacity was, in its own way, admirable, if not entirely misplaced.
‘There are probably countless such nicknames.’
The thought amused me even as I acknowledged the potential headache it might cause.
When I averted my gaze from her, this time Ban Eunhyeol spoke, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of curiosity that was unusual for him.
“Since when?”
“Huh?”
“Since when have you been an awakened one?”
I was contemplating what would be a good time frame to say, searching for a believable lie that wouldn’t unravel later, when Ban Eunhyeol threw another question at me, cutting off my internal debate.
“No way, you too back then?”
I immediately understood what he was referring to.
He must be talking about when Ban Eunhyeol and I were caught in a sudden gate last time, a memory that now felt laced with an ironic twist.
“No, after that.”
Was I really such a good liar?
I inwardly admired how casually the lie had come out, how effortlessly the words had slipped from my tongue, when another low voice pierced my ear, a quiet observation that made my heart skip a beat.
“Right, so that’s how it was.”
It was a strange reaction, almost as if he wasn’t questioning me, but rather confirming a suspicion he had already held.
Ban Eunhyeol looked down at me with an unreadable gaze, his dark eyes like deep pools, and fell silent for a moment.
Then, looking hesitant, as if weighing his words, he asked directly, a question that sliced through the lingering awkwardness.
“Are you an Outer-Dimensional Being?”
At that, Dana’s composed expression, which had been so calm in her answers until now, finally cracked.
It was a minuscule fracture, barely perceptible, but it was there, so much so that even he, who saw it, was uncertain if he had truly witnessed it.
The mask she wore, so carefully constructed, had slipped for a fleeting instant.
***
The Four Heavenly Kings, who had arrived at the cafeteria earlier than anyone else to eat lunch, a testament to their unwavering dedication to their meals, immediately found the culprit who had spilled lunch on Dana’s gym uniform. Their synchronized focus, usually reserved for dungeon raids, was now honed in on a schoolyard incident.
“It’s Shin Sena.”
“That girl, she barely avoided expulsion, why is she like this?”
“Why does Sena dislike Dana so much?”
At Han Jibin’s question, Ji Ganghan silently looked at Ban Eunhyeol, a silent communication passing between them, a shared understanding that needed no words.
Ban Eunhyeol, unfazed by the gaze, calmly tore open the sikhye from his lunch and drank it, his composure a stark contrast to the brewing tension.
“You had a hand in it too.”
At Ban Eunhyeol’s single remark, a statement of fact rather than an accusation, Ji Ganghan nodded in agreement.
Both of them knew that Dana was suffering this humiliation because of them, their indirect involvement leading to her current predicament.
Until now, they had left Shin Sena alone because she hadn’t caused any major problems, her minor aggressions deemed not worth their intervention.
But today she had severely crossed the line, her actions moving beyond mere petty squabbles into something that demanded their attention.
“It’s your turn this time.”
“Because you went to Gonju High once?”
“Yeah.”
The meaning was clear: they had to make sure Shin Sena wouldn’t do such a thing again.
Their reputation, their subtle influence, would be brought to bear.
Occasionally, when conflicts arose among female students because of them, they’d tried to stay out of it, seeing it as a quagmire that rarely ended well.
However, since Dana was being treated like this, their responsibility was clear, and they couldn’t ignore it. It was a matter of principle, and perhaps, something more.
“It must have been really hot.”
Han Jibin mumbled sadly as he watched Dana leave the cafeteria with a friend, a genuine concern in his voice.
At his words, Ban Eunhyeol flinched, a subtle tremor in his posture, and needlessly looked at the cafeteria entrance they had exited from before quickly turning his gaze away, as if trying to erase the image from his mind.
Seeing him, Eunbada smiled sweetly and said, his voice laced with a knowing gentleness,
“I’ll go to the infirmary and get some burn ointment.”
“What, do as you please.”
Ban Eunhyeol replied indifferently, almost dismissively, picking up his tray first and getting up, as if the conversation was of no consequence to him.
Eunbada, Ji Ganghan, and Han Jibin, who had completely emptied their trays, followed in unison.
After finishing their meal quickly, they were about to head straight to the rooftop, their usual sanctuary.
That is, until Eunbada, with a surprising turn, suggested getting burn ointment before going up, an act of unexpected thoughtfulness.
The infirmary was empty, a quiet haven in the bustling school. Just as they were looking around for burn ointment, the stillness was broken by a sudden, jarring sensation.
“Guys. You felt it too, right?”
Ban Eunhyeol nodded at Eunbada, who asked with a serious expression, a grim understanding passing between them, and roughly pushed open the infirmary door.
There was a monster inside the school.
And it wasn’t far from them.
The air crackled with a malevolent energy that only Awakened Ones could perceive, a clear sign of danger.
Turning his head to the right to check the hallway, Ban Eunhyeol immediately found the monster, its grotesque form a stark contrast to the mundane school environment.
It seemed a dungeon break had occurred in the principal’s office, a highly unusual and dangerous event. As he ran towards the principal’s office, preparing to use his skill to take care of the monster, when—
Thud—
Before he could do anything, before his power could even fully manifest, the monster’s colossal body collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud that echoed through the empty hallway.
‘Yeon Hayeon?’
‘No, I thought Yeon Hayeon and my sister went outside during lunchtime. Then, did another Awakened One defeat it?’
For a fleeting moment, he made various guesses, his mind racing through possibilities, but then he froze at the face he saw as the monster collapsed, a face he knew far too well.
‘Her again?’
How many times was this?
It was becoming a pattern, a bizarre, almost predictable occurrence.
Why did that kid always get involved whenever there was danger?
This was already the second time she’d been caught in a sudden gate in front of him, and how long had it been since the kidnapping incident that now there was a dungeon break?
Her uncanny ability to be present at every major crisis was baffling.
From the looks of it, Shin Sena seemed to have defeated that monster.
The entire school knew she was an Awakened One, a fact that made her the prime suspect in his mind. He didn’t think the outcast, Dana, would have done anything.
He couldn’t even imagine her facing a monster, let alone defeating one of that size.
Just then, he felt another monster emerging from the principal’s office behind him, its presence a chilling weight in the air.
He quickly turned to deal with it, his instincts taking over, but a bullet whizzed past his face at high speed, a blur that narrowly missed him.
The bullet pierced the monster’s forehead with deadly precision, killing it instantly, a clean shot that left no doubt about the shooter’s skill.
The one who fired the gun was, surprisingly, Dana, who had always seemed so weak, so unassuming.
There was not a trace of tremor in her stance as she held the gun, her posture firm and unwavering.
Shin Sena was merely standing behind her, a startled look on her face, making it clear she wasn’t the one who had fired.
‘No way, she did that?’
The thought was almost impossible to process.
So he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“Did you shoot that?”
“Uh… probably?”
“Probably?”
His eyebrows twitched at the vague answer, a mixture of frustration and utter bewilderment.
And she said she’d been awakened for a while, so since when exactly?
His mind raced, trying to pinpoint the exact moment of her awakening.
Was it that time she got caught in a sudden gate with the Black Flame Dragon Guild Leader’s girlfriend?
Or was it when she got caught in a sudden gate with him?
Or was she awakened much earlier than that, her secret kept under wraps for far longer than anyone could imagine?
The possibilities spun in his head, each more perplexing than the last.
As if a continuous string of surprising events wasn’t enough, an even more astonishing truth awaited him.
Dana’s troubled expression, after Shin Sena told her to just act as she normally did, changed in an instant, like a mask dropping away.
This was not the hesitant Dana from before, the quiet, almost timid girl he thought he knew.
This was someone entirely different, someone with a newfound confidence and a directness that was startling.
“Ha, alright. Yes, I was an Awakened One. I was hiding it for a reason.”
Not just her gaze, which now held a sharp, knowing glint, but her tone of voice too, was entirely different.
It was calm, steady, and utterly self-assured.
A hollow laugh escaped him when he heard she had hidden her awakening because her nickname was embarrassing, a ridiculous reason that, in retrospect, perfectly explained her reluctance.
He then recalled something that had happened long ago, something he’d dismissed without much thought, something that now clicked into place with chilling clarity.
The surge of fire energy he’d felt in the incinerator while skipping class.
It was mana that would be difficult to sense easily unless one was him, someone with his unique abilities.
He remembered seeing Dana’s back as she crossed the empty hallway, a seemingly innocuous detail at the time, and later, Eunbada telling him what had happened in the incinerator, all in sequence.
Each piece of the puzzle now fell into place, forming a complete and astonishing picture.
‘So even back then…’
And yet, she had hidden it so perfectly in front of him.
No, not just in front of him, but from everyone, an elaborate charade maintained with remarkable precision.
He felt a strange emotion when he realized Dana’s true nature.
Was it a sense of betrayal for being deceived, a pang of annoyance at her elaborate deception, or surprise at a side of her completely different from what he knew?
His heart felt uneasy, a turmoil of conflicting emotions, and a sharp question burst out, driven by an urgent need for answers.
“Are you an Outer-Dimensional Being?”
At that, Dana’s composed expression, which had been so calm in her answers until now, finally cracked.
But it was only for a fleeting moment, a micro-expression so quick that even he, who saw it, was uncertain if he had truly witnessed it.
The brief flicker of distress was quickly masked, replaced by her usual calm.
“Until now, I intentionally pretended to be weak to make a good impression on you, and I also hid my true personality. It would be strange if I suddenly changed, so I just lived like that.”
Dana turned to Shin Sena, who was staring fixedly at the air, her face a mixture of confusion and revelation, and continued, her voice even and explanatory.
“But then she provoked me, and my true personality just came out.”
“Hmm, that makes sense.”
Ji Ganghan, who had been standing silently and listening the whole time, his expression unreadable, nodded in understanding and spoke, a rare sign of his engagement in such matters.
Ban Eunhyeol, feeling a strange, indefinable emotion—a mix of confusion, grudging admiration, and something akin to a puzzle finally solved—accepted Dana’s explanation at face value.
It wasn’t entirely satisfying, but it was enough for now.
Then, feeling awkward standing outside, the tension of the revelation lingering in the air, he followed Eunbada and Han Jibin into the gate.
All he could think was that he needed to go inside and hunt monsters to calm this peculiar, unsettling feeling that had taken root within him.
The dungeon break that had occurred in the principal’s office was quickly brought under control with the appearance of the Four Heavenly Kings.
Their combined power was overwhelming, swiftly neutralizing the threat.
The principal, clearly overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, expressed overwhelming gratitude, proclaiming over the school broadcast how fortunate it was to have the Four Heavenly Kings at their school, his voice booming with pride.
Only after the vice-principal’s voice was heard, a firm, no-nonsense tone telling him to stop talking, did the school broadcast finally cut off, ending the impromptu eulogy.
“Did you see the monster? I was in the cafeteria then.”
“Ah, what a shame. It was a chance to see the Four Heavenly Kings fight in person.”
I shook my head, listening to the seemingly insane conversations of the children, their normalcy a stark contrast to the supernatural events that had just transpired.
Just then, Nabi and her friends, who had heard the news late, burst through the front door and shouted, their voices echoing through the classroom,
“Dana, you were awakened?!”
They don’t usually burst through the front door and make announcements unless a pretty or handsome transfer student arrives or the Four Heavenly Kings show up, do they?
The sheer volume of their announcement ensured that everyone in the classroom now knew.
Why do truths I don’t want revealed always get out like this, in the most inconvenient and public ways imaginable?
It was a rhetorical question, but one that highlighted the endless struggles of maintaining a secret in this world.
Even with my eyes lowered, I could feel the attention of the entire classroom focused on me, a collective gaze that felt like a physical weight.
“You saved Shin Sena?”
“What in the world is your nickname that you hid it all this time?”
The barrage of questions immediately made me dizzy, each query a fresh demand on my newly revealed self.
Just then, Nabi came and sat beside me, offering a moment of quiet support amidst the chaos, starting to speak in a serious tone.
“Dana, what in the world did you do to Shin Sena?”
“Huh? Why?”
“No, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her speak well of anyone.”
From what Nabi said, Shin Sena seemed to have exaggerated my exploits slightly when telling her friends, painting a picture that was grander than reality.
Other kids nearby had apparently overheard, their ears perked up for gossip, and now stories about me were spreading in real-time throughout the school, transforming me from an outcast into a sudden topic of intense interest.
“To think you were hiding your power, it’s just like a novel’s protagonist!”
“Isn’t she similar to Yeon Hayeon?”
“To think we’d have two people with acquired personality changes in our class.”
Fortunately, my friends seemed to accept that I had awakened and changed.
It was the same for the other kids; everyone accepted my change without much fuss, their open-mindedness a surprising comfort.
It was a moment where I was tearfully grateful to Yeon Hayeon for setting a precedent that personalities could change, making my sudden shift seem less anomalous and more acceptable.
Thud—
Speaking of the devil, Yeon Hayeon opened the front door and entered the classroom, her timing impeccable as always.