The Hunter Registry building was, by any reasonable metric, impressive.
Sixteen floors of glass and steel in the heart of Gangnam. The lobby had marble floors that reflected the ceiling lights in a way that suggested someone had spent a considerable budget making a floor look like a floor but significantly better. There were framed photographs of all eight S-Rank Hunters on the walls, dramatic and well lit, the kind of photographs that communicated these people could level buildings and had the restraint not to.
Han-Ho walked in at four fifty eight PM.
He had changed out of his work uniform into his one good jacket and clean jeans. He had his work bag because he had nowhere to leave it. He had Moru on his left shoulder and Kjor on his right shoulder because they had refused to stay home with Min-Seo who had also refused to stay home and was currently walking in behind Han-Ho with the expression of a man who has decided he is part of this situation whether anyone invited him or not.
The receptionist looked up.
Looked at Han-Ho.
Looked at Moru.
Looked at Kjor.
Looked at Min-Seo.
Her eyes went back to Moru.
Then to Kjor.
Then back to her screen with the focused determination of someone who had been trained to maintain professional composure and was currently earning every won of her salary.
"Name," she said.
"Kang Han-Ho," said Han-Ho. "I have a five o'clock."
She typed something.
Her expression changed in a very specific way. The way expressions change when a screen says something that elevates a visitor from standard appointment to something the building has been quietly preparing for since this morning.
"Mr. Kang," she said. "Sixteenth floor. They're expecting you."
They went to the elevator.
Kjor looked at the buttons.
"These again," said Kjor, with genuine pleasure.
"We were just in an elevator this morning," said Min-Seo.
"I know. I enjoy them." Kjor pointed at the button for floor sixteen with one tiny claw. "May I."
Han-Ho gestured.
Kjor pressed the button with the focused satisfaction of something that has found an unexpected source of joy in the modern world and is not embarrassed about it.
The elevator moved.
"It's a button," said Min-Seo.
"I froze seven seas," said Kjor. "I am allowed to enjoy buttons."
Min-Seo looked at the ceiling of the elevator.
The ceiling offered no comfort.
The doors opened on the sixteenth floor.
Ms. Yoon was waiting.
She had her file. She had coffee. She had the expression of someone who had been right about something for four years and was approximately ninety seconds away from having that validated by the Director of the Hunter Registry in an official capacity and was maintaining professionalism about it through considerable personal effort.
She looked at Han-Ho.
Looked at Moru.
Looked at Kjor who was still looking back at the elevator doors as they closed with an expression of quiet fondness.
"You brought them," she said.
"They came," said Han-Ho.
"I said it was a formal meeting," said Kjor, producing two bags of honey butter chips from wherever Kjor kept things. "I brought appropriate refreshments."
Ms. Yoon looked at the chips.
Made a decision.
"Follow me," she said.
The Director's office was large in the way that authority manifests in square footage. Director Choi Byung-Soo was behind the desk looking like a man who had read Ms. Yoon's file twice this morning and had spent the rest of the day quietly recalibrating his understanding of several things he had previously considered settled.
He looked at Han-Ho.
Looked at Moru.
Looked at Kjor.
His recalibration continued.
"Mr. Kang," he said. "Please sit."
Han-Ho sat. Moru remained on his shoulder. Kjor remained on his other shoulder. Min-Seo sat in the adjacent chair with the air of someone attending a meeting they were not invited to on the basis of personal investment in the outcome. Park Sung-Jin stood by the door. Ms. Yoon sat to the side with her file and her coffee and the contained energy of a person whose moment has arrived.
The Director folded his hands.
"Mr. Kang. Thank you for coming."
"You had four years," said Han-Ho.
The Director absorbed this with the practiced composure of a man who has spent seventeen years in government bureaucracy and has heard worse.
"We did," he said. "And I apologize. Ms. Yoon tells me your complaint was legitimate and should have been addressed considerably sooner."
"Ms. Yoon gave me the form this morning," said Han-Ho. "That was sufficient."
Ms. Yoon allowed herself one small internal moment of satisfaction. Just one.
"Good," said the Director. "Mr. Kang I'm going to be direct. According to Ms. Yoon's report you are not what your registration suggests."
"I'm a Mana-Janitor," said Han-Ho.
"You are registered as a Mana-Janitor. Rank F. One skill. Stain Removal." The Director opened the file. "You are also something our classification system cannot categorize."
Han-Ho looked at the file.
"That file is about me," he said.
"Yes."
"It's very large."
"Yes."
"My skill is Stain Removal."
"Mr. Kang—"
"I clean things. I have been cleaning things for ten years. I don't understand why that requires a file that size."
The Director looked at Ms. Yoon.
Ms. Yoon looked at Han-Ho.
She had rehearsed this.
"Mr. Kang," she said. "In ten years you have cleaned approximately four thousand three hundred Gate residue sites. In one hundred percent of those sites our post-cleanup monitoring registered zero mana residue. Not low. Zero."
"I clean thoroughly."
"The equipment is calibrated for S-Rank Hunters. S-Ranks leave residue. You leave nothing."
"I'm very thorough."
"Additionally there have been forty seven documented cases of monsters evacuating Gate sites before Hunter teams arrived. In all forty seven cases you had been working within three blocks in the preceding twenty four hours."
"Convenient for the teams."
"Mr. Kang—"
"Less cleanup for me too. Fresh monster residue is considerably harder than—"
"AND," said Ms. Yoon, pressing forward with the energy of someone who has four years of material and is not going to be derailed by logistics, "yesterday evening you reduced a Class A Frost Giant to his current size using your registered skill because he was on your road."
"He was dripping."
"He was FORTY FEET—"
"On my road."
Ms. Yoon closed her eyes.
Opened them.
Drank her coffee.
Continued.
"The point Mr. Kang is that what you do is not possible for a Rank F Hunter. It may not be possible for any currently registered Hunter in the country and we need to understand—"
"My status window has an error," said Han-Ho.
Everyone looked at him.
"I filed a complaint about it four years ago," he said. "The display is showing more stars than the field supports. That's a system error. It's probably why your monitoring equipment gives unusual readings. If you fix the status window the readings will normalize."
The Director stared at him.
Ms. Yoon stared at him.
Park Sung-Jin by the door stared at him.
Min-Seo looked at the ceiling.
"Han-Ho," said Min-Seo, to the ceiling.
"What."
"Open your status window."
"It gives me a headache."
"Open it anyway."
"Min-Seo—"
"Please."
Han-Ho looked at Min-Seo. Looked at the Director. Looked at Ms. Yoon who had her pen ready and the expression of someone who has been waiting for this specific moment across four years and two cups of coffee.
He opened his status window.
Several things happened simultaneously.
Every screen in the Hunter Registry building flickered.
Not briefly. Not like a power fluctuation. Like something had looked at every screen in the building simultaneously and the screens had felt it.
The Registry's automated monitoring system — a network of sensors embedded throughout the building specifically designed to detect and classify unusual mana signatures — activated.
All of it.
At once.
Every sensor. Every alert. Every classification protocol.
The system ran its detection sweep.
The system found something.
The system tried to classify what it found.
The system failed to classify what it found.
The system tried again.
Failed again.
The system did something it had never done in eleven years of operation. It escalated to maximum priority alert and sent an emergency notification to every registered Hunter in South Korea above B-Rank.
In eight separate locations across Seoul, eight phones buzzed simultaneously.
[HUNTER REGISTRY — PRIORITY ALERT]Unknown entity detected: Hunter Registry HQ, GangnamThreat classification: UNCLASSIFIEDMana signature: UNCLASSIFIABLERecommended response: ALL AVAILABLE S-RANK HUNTERS
S-Rank Hunter Yoo Chae-Won was in the middle of a brand partnership meeting in Mapo when her phone buzzed. She looked at it. Looked at the brand representative across the table. Stood up. Left without explaining because when a Priority Alert says ALL AVAILABLE S-RANK HUNTERS you do not stop to explain to brand representatives.
S-Rank Hunter Baek Sung-Il was training in his private facility in Seocho. His phone was on the wall. The alert made it vibrate off the wall entirely. He caught it. Read it. Was in his car in forty seconds.
S-Rank Hunter Jin Tae-Yang was eating dinner. He looked at the alert. Looked at his dinner. Left the dinner. His wife watched him go with the expression of someone who has been married to an S-Rank Hunter for six years and has a system for keeping food warm.
Five other S-Rank Hunters across Seoul received the same alert and responded with the same speed because that is what ALL AVAILABLE S-RANK HUNTERS means and all eight of Korea's S-Ranks had been trained since their Awakening to take that phrase with complete seriousness.
All seven of them converging on the Hunter Registry building in Gangnam.
One of them — Jang Min-Seo, Re-Awakened twice, forty million views — was sitting in the Director's office on the sixteenth floor watching Han-Ho try to close his status window because it was giving him a headache.
Min-Seo's phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
Read the alert.
Looked at Han-Ho.
Looked at the alert.
Looked at Han-Ho again.
Looked at the ceiling.
Put his phone face down on his knee.
In the Director's office the lights had stabilized. The screens had stopped flickering. Han-Ho had closed his status window with the slightly pained expression of someone who has a recurring headache and has just voluntarily triggered it for the benefit of other people.
The Director was looking at his own screen which was showing him the alert his building had just sent to every S-Rank Hunter in Korea.
He was very still.
"Mr. Kang," he said.
"I told you it was an error," said Han-Ho.
"That alert just went to every S-Rank Hunter in the country."
"The system misread the display error. If you fix the status window—"
"Seven S-Rank Hunters are currently en route to this building."
Han-Ho looked at him.
"Why," said Han-Ho.
"Because the alert said ALL AVAILABLE S-RANK HUNTERS."
"That seems like an overreaction."
"Mr. Kang the system classified your status window as an unclassifiable threat."
"It's a display error."
"THE SYSTEM DOES NOT MAKE DISPLAY ERRORS—"
"Mine has been displaying incorrectly for four years," said Han-Ho patiently. "I filed a complaint. Ms. Yoon gave me a response form this morning. The underlying issue is still—"
"Han-Ho," said Min-Seo.
"What."
"Seven S-Ranks are coming here right now because of your status window."
"That's not my fault."
"I know it's not your fault—"
"I didn't want to open it. You told me to open it."
Min-Seo opened his mouth.
Closed it.
This was factually correct. He had told Han-Ho to open it. He had specifically said please. He had no response to this.
"That is," said Min-Seo carefully, "a fair point."
From Han-Ho's shoulder Moru watched this exchange with the bright interested expression of something that finds the unfolding situation genuinely entertaining and is not hiding it well.
Kjor opened the second bag of honey butter chips.
Again the sound was very loud in the silence.
Everyone looked at Kjor.
"Would anyone like a chip," said Kjor. "The situation seems tense."
"I'll have one," said Ms. Yoon, for the second time in this meeting, because some days require honey butter chips at irregular intervals and this was one of those days.
The Director looked at his screen. The alert was still there. Seven S-Ranks were still en route. The building's monitoring system had gone quiet but in the specific way things go quiet after they have done something significant and are waiting to see what happens next.
He looked at Park Sung-Jin by the door.
"Call them," said the Director. "All seven. Tell them it's a false alarm."
Park Sung-Jin was already on his phone.
"I'm trying sir. Hunter Yoo isn't picking up. Hunter Baek is in his car. Hunter Jin says and I quote — if it's a false alarm why does the system say UNCLASSIFIABLE—"
"Tell him it's a status window error."
"He says there's no such thing as a status window error sir."
The Director looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho looked back at the Director with the patient expression of a man who has been saying the words status window error for four years and is tired of them not being taken seriously.
"Tell Hunter Jin," said the Director slowly, "that he is correct that status window errors don't normally exist. Tell him this is a unique case. Tell him we have it handled. Tell him to go back to his dinner."
Park Sung-Jin relayed this.
A pause.
"He wants to know what the unique case is sir."
"Tell him it's classified."
Another pause.
"He says if it's classified why did the alert say ALL AVAILABLE S-RANKS."
The Director pressed both hands flat on his desk.
"Tell him," said the Director, with the controlled precision of a man choosing words for the historical record, "that the situation is under control. That no threat is present. That we apologize for the disruption. And that we will provide a full briefing at a time to be determined."
Park Sung-Jin relayed this.
A pause.
"He's going back to dinner sir."
"Good."
"Hunter Yoo wants a written explanation by tomorrow morning."
"She'll get one."
"Hunter Baek is asking if this is related to the Gangnam Frost Giant incident."
The Director looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho was looking at his bag. He had taken out a small notebook and appeared to be reviewing his schedule for tomorrow. Not because he was being rude. Because he had a schedule and the Registry meeting was running longer than planned and he needed to check whether the Mapo district route needed adjustment.
"Tell Hunter Baek," said the Director, "that we will address all questions at the full briefing."
"Yes sir."
"And Sung-Jin."
"Sir."
"Schedule the full briefing."
"When sir."
The Director looked at Han-Ho.
"Mr. Kang," he said.
Han-Ho looked up from his notebook.
"When are you available for a full briefing with the S-Rank Hunter team."
Han-Ho looked at his notebook.
"Not Monday. I have the Mapo district and there's a residue situation near the river I need to address before it becomes a Class A." He turned a page. "Not Tuesday. I have the Yeongdeungpo garage follow up." Another page. "Wednesday afternoon. After two."
"Wednesday after two," said the Director.
"I'll need to be done by five. I have a route."
"You'll be done by five."
Han-Ho closed the notebook. Put it back in his bag.
Looked at the Director.
"Was there anything else," he said.
The Director looked at his screen. The alert. The seven S-Ranks he had just called off. Ms. Yoon's four year file. The flickering screens. The monitoring system that was still quietly processing what it had encountered and would continue processing it for the next three days before generating a report that would make two analysts request immediate transfers.
"Mr. Kang," he said.
"Yes."
"Your status window."
"The error."
"What your status window actually shows," said the Director, very carefully, "is not an error."
Han-Ho looked at him.
"The stars," said the Director. "The error message. Our system tried to classify what it detected when you opened it. It couldn't. Not because of a display error. Because what it detected doesn't fit any existing classification."
Han-Ho was quiet for a moment.
"It's a display error," he said.
"Mr. Kang—"
"The display field has a maximum star count. Mine exceeded it. That's a display error."
"The field has no maximum."
Han-Ho stopped.
"The status window display field," said Ms. Yoon quietly, looking up from her file, "has no star limit. It displays exactly as many stars as the system can measure." She looked at Han-Ho. "It stopped displaying stars and started showing an error message not because the field ran out of space. Because the system ran out of numbers."
Silence.
Han-Ho looked at Ms. Yoon.
Ms. Yoon looked back at him.
From his shoulder Moru was very still.
Kjor had stopped eating chips.
Min-Seo was watching Han-Ho's face with the focused attention of someone who has been waiting for this specific moment for five days.
Han-Ho looked at his hands.
The hands of a man who had been cleaning things for ten years. Work-roughened. Practical. The hands of an F-Rank Mana-Janitor who got paid a salary that made him tired to think about and lived in a basement apartment in Mapo-gu and watched Netflix on a laptop that took four minutes to load.
He looked at them for a long moment.
Then he looked up.
"I have a route tomorrow," he said.
The Director stared at him.
"The Mapo district," said Han-Ho. "I start at seven."
"Mr. Kang we just told you that your power level exceeds our ability to measure—"
"I heard you."
"And?"
Han-Ho picked up his bag.
Stood up.
"The Mapo district still needs cleaning," he said. "Whether my status window has an error or not."
He said it completely sincerely.
Without irony. Without deflection. Without the performance of someone avoiding a difficult truth.
Just a man who had a route tomorrow and a job to do and a genuine belief that those two things were not changed by anything that had just been said in this office.
The Director looked at him for a very long time.
Then he looked at Moru.
"Is he," said the Director.
"Yes," said Moru. "He always is."
Han-Ho walked to the door.
Moru floated. Kjor floated. Min-Seo stood and followed because that was apparently what he did now.
At the door Han-Ho stopped.
Turned around.
"Ms. Yoon," he said.
Ms. Yoon looked up.
"Wednesday. The briefing." He looked at her. "You should present. It's your work."
Ms. Yoon looked at him.
Something shifted in her expression. Four years of careful professional distance and one small genuine moment underneath it.
"Thank you Mr. Kang," she said.
Han-Ho nodded.
Left.
The elevator doors opened. They got in.
Kjor pressed the button for the ground floor with great satisfaction.
The doors closed.
The Director's office was quiet.
Park Sung-Jin was still by the door.
Ms. Yoon was looking at her file.
The Director was looking at his screen which still showed the alert and the monitoring system's failed classification attempt and the three word summary the system had generated after failing to classify what it had detected.
Three words.
That was all the system had managed before giving up entirely.
CLEAN. UNKNOWN. DANGEROUS.
The Director looked at those three words for a long time.
Then he looked at Ms. Yoon.
"Four years," he said.
"Yes sir," said Ms. Yoon.
"You were right for four years."
"Yes sir."
"And nobody listened."
"Nobody responds to F-Rank complaints sir." She closed her file. "It's practically a law of the universe."
The Director looked at his screen.
CLEAN. UNKNOWN. DANGEROUS.
"Get me the full monitoring report," he said.
"Already sent it sir. Last night at nine fourteen PM."
The Director looked at her.
Ms. Yoon looked back with the serene expression of someone who has been several steps ahead of this situation for four years and has fully accepted that condition.
He turned to his screen.
Started reading.
Three floors below in the lobby Han-Ho stopped at the reception desk.
The receptionist looked up.
Han-Ho looked at the marble floor.
Crouched down.
Examined a section near the desk with the critical professional eye of someone who has been cleaning floors for ten years and cannot turn it off.
Stood up.
"There's a mana residue mark near the east wall," he said. "Behind the decorative plant. It's minor. Class F. Whoever cleaned last missed it."
The receptionist stared at him.
"I can file a work order," said Han-Ho. "Or I can address it now. It'll take two minutes."
The receptionist looked at the plant.
Looked at Han-Ho.
"It's been there for three months," she said finally. "We thought it was a shadow."
"It's not a shadow," said Han-Ho. "It's Class F residue from a Gate that opened nearby about three months ago. Very common. Very easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for."
"Can you." She gestured.
"Two minutes," said Han-Ho.
He addressed the residue.
Two minutes exactly.
He stood up. Nodded with quiet professional satisfaction. Picked up his bag.
Walked out of the Hunter Registry building into the evening air of Gangnam.
Moru and Kjor on his shoulders.
Min-Seo behind him.
"Han-Ho," said Min-Seo.
"What."
"You just cleaned the lobby of the Hunter Registry building."
"There was a residue mark."
"After they told you your power level exceeds their ability to measure."
"The mark was still there."
"Han-Ho—"
"It was Class F. Two minutes. It needed doing."
Min-Seo walked in silence for a moment.
"I Re-Awakened twice," he said.
"I know," said Han-Ho.
"Twice."
"I know Min-Seo."
"I destroyed a mountain."
"You mentioned."
"The system called you CLEAN UNKNOWN DANGEROUS."
Han-Ho stopped walking.
Turned to look at Min-Seo.
"How do you know what the system said," said Han-Ho.
Min-Seo looked at him.
Looked away.
"Ara has a contact in the monitoring division," he said.
"You had someone reading the Registry's monitoring system."
"I had someone checking the alert classification yes."
Han-Ho looked at him for a moment.
"CLEAN UNKNOWN DANGEROUS," said Han-Ho.
"Yes."
"In that order."
"Yes."
Han-Ho turned and kept walking.
"Clean is accurate," he said. "I'll accept that one."
Min-Seo stared at his back.
From Han-Ho's shoulder Moru looked back at Min-Seo with enormous red eyes that were doing something that was technically not smiling because Moru did not have a mouth configured for smiling but was the closest thing to smiling that an ancient purified demonic entity could manage.
Min-Seo pointed at Moru.
Moru looked away innocently.
They walked to the GS25.
Some Mondays were just like this.