Chapter 5: Ghosts of the Same Classroom

“Why do I keep hearing weird rumors about you lately? Even in the cafeteria last time. Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging out with that loser?”

Just as Seong Jiwoo was about to change into his gym uniform for practical class, a few of his old classmates — people he’d once been on passable terms with — surrounded him, smirking.

Ah, right. These bastards still existed.

He’d been so absorbed in mentoring lately that he’d completely forgotten they were even alive. In his past life, he probably would’ve felt burning rage at seeing them again — but now? He couldn’t even be bothered. Maybe it was true what they said about life’s twists of fate. After watching humanity get wiped out all at once, it took a lot more than a few idiots to stir him up.

It was still annoying, yes, but not enough to make him want to beat them senseless and toss them into the flames like before. He was too tired for that now. He’d just give them enough of a reminder to keep their mouths shut.

Jiwoo slowly scanned the four faces in front of him. This time, he could actually read their expressions — something he’d never cared to do before.

“I mean, you’re totally overstepping your level,” one of them sneered. “You should think about our reputation too, since we’re your friends, right?”

Jiwoo almost laughed out loud.
Friends? These clowns barely scraped the edge of A-rank, maybe B if they were lucky, and they had the audacity to talk about levels. Outside this school, they wouldn’t even rank in the crowd. The fact that he’d once let people like them into his life made his skin crawl.

He smirked.
“I don’t remember since when you and I were friends.”

The word friend itself tasted foul in his mouth.

The four looked taken aback — it was the first time Jiwoo had ever spoken to them so bluntly. He’d always been indifferent, and they’d loved to exploit that, using him to look good in front of others. They’d always timed it for when lots of students were watching — just like now, when everyone was busy prepping for PE.

But their move backfired spectacularly. Everyone’s attention was now on them, and Jiwoo had just publicly mocked them. When he said, “Since when were we friends?”, even the thin façade of camaraderie they’d been clinging to shattered.

Pft.

A snicker from somewhere in the crowd hit their ears like a slap.
Their faces flushed red, then blue, then red again — pride cracking in real time.

“C-come on, Jiwoo, what’s with you all of a sudden?” Park Junsoo, his face red as a beet, tried to smooth things over with a nervous laugh.

Ah. Right. That’s who you were, Jiwoo thought.

Among the four, Park Junsoo had always been the lowest in their little hierarchy. All through high school, he’d lived tiptoeing around the others — Jiwoo included. Jiwoo had thought he was just timid. Now he knew better.

If he were really timid, he wouldn’t have been hanging out with trash like this.

A bug blinded by inferiority and jealousy.

Even now, Jiwoo could see it — the resentment flickering behind Junsoo’s forced smile. The corner of his mouth twitched, struggling to hold its shape. How had he never noticed that before?

Yoo Hobin, Kim Gunwoo, Jung Hanseok, Park Junsoo, and Seong Jiwoo — five people who’d once called themselves a group until graduation.

Why? Because they liked Jiwoo.
Or rather, they liked being associated with him.

But thanks to the “rank gap” they loved to talk about, their contact ended right after graduation. Jiwoo had simply moved on to a higher league, and they’d faded from his memory.

Afterward, he was assigned to compulsory duty at an X-Gate with top-tier Hunters. The training was brutal, but his skills grew exponentially. Meanwhile, those four clowns tried to become Hunters too — only to disgrace themselves.

Yoo Hobin and Jung Hanseok’s party used dirty tricks to clear dungeons — waiting for other teams to do the hard work, then sneaking in at the end to “tag along.”
They’d cling to the edge of the recognized dungeon zone like parasites. It was widely condemned among Hunters, and even after multiple warnings, they’d just sneer:
“If you don’t like it, do it too.”

Their reputation sank like a stone.

The biggest victim? Jiwoo’s own party.
Because of Hobin’s team leeching near their position, the Gate recognized them as additional intruders and doubled the monster spawn rate. Jiwoo’s team barely survived the chaos.

And yet, those bastards had the nerve to approach him afterward.

“Hey, Jiwoo! Always knew you’d go far!”

“Thanks to you, we got through easy, man!”

His teammates, already furious at the incident, turned on Jiwoo instantly.

“Jiwoo, you know them?”

“…Wait. You let them do that?”

“Ugh, disgusting. What, you all in some slimey brotherhood or something?”

That was the first time Jiwoo had truly wanted to kill someone.

No matter how much he denied it, Hobin and Hanseok just smirked, sucking all they could from his name before vanishing to another Gate. Nobody believed him.

From then on, no matter how hard he worked, his party treated him coldly. Some even mocked him outright. As a support-class Hunter, he was easy to overlook — earning him the nickname “Useless Freeloader.”

Ironically, that humiliation made him stronger.

One day, during a 20th-floor raid, a sudden pattern change isolated Jiwoo from the group.

Whip—! Whip—!

The monster’s tail lashed through the air like a blade. He dodged and ran, but his teammates only watched from afar, using the distraction to attack.

f*ck. This is bullshit.

He fought with all he had, but it wasn’t enough. The tail struck, and he went tumbling off a cliff. He landed on a small ledge — alive, but trapped.

When the dungeon finally quieted, no one came back for him. They just left.

Days passed. Just when Jiwoo was about to give up and call for rescue, a familiar face appeared above the cliff — Park Junsoo.

Junsoo listened to his situation, then convinced his party to pull him up, calling Jiwoo “a useful recruit.” Thanks to that, Jiwoo joined a new team.

And that was the worst decision of his life.

Junsoo treated him like garbage — worse than anyone else. He led the charge in isolating him, inventing rumors about him, twisting his words, and spreading fake stories about female teammates. He tore Jiwoo’s reputation apart bit by bit.

In that dungeon hellscape, Jiwoo became the perfect scapegoat — the party’s punching bag, their emotional outlet. He kept himself alive by grinding his abilities to the limit.

When he finally earned his Hunter license, there was no joy. No pride. Only relief that he’d escaped that cesspool alive.

Everyone assumed he’d quit the profession entirely.

But five months later, Jiwoo exploded back onto the scene — clearing Gates left and right, climbing the ranks at lightning speed. Every major guild courted him.

Yet, until the day he died, he never joined any of them. Never appeared in interviews. Never attended ceremonies.

Some called him a fake recluse chasing “mystique points.” Jiwoo didn’t care. He didn’t even show up to the biggest Hunter award ceremony — the one most Hunters would kill just to attend.

“Ah. Seeing your faces just made me queasy,” Jiwoo said flatly.

These were the people who had once driven him to despair — who’d taught him that human bonds meant nothing. Because of them, betrayal barely stung anymore.

“W-what?”

“I get nauseous when I see ugly things. You guys are making me feel sick. Do me a favor and get those disgusting faces out of my sight.”

He waved his hand in mock disgust. The four just stared, dumbstruck.

“I said get lost.”

When they still didn’t move, Jiwoo decided to be extra clear.

“It’s been filthy knowing you. Let’s never meet again. Don’t even think about talking to me — unless you want to see me lose my shit.”

It was something he’d always wanted to say in his past life.
As the words left his mouth, he felt something inside him — something that had clung like a tumor — finally fall away.

“Did… something good happen?”

Yoo Heero asked timidly, noticing the strangely peaceful look on Jiwoo’s face.

Jiwoo turned, smiling so brightly that Heero flinched.

“Ah— s-something bad must’ve happened, right?”

Heero immediately fixed his eyes on the floor, silently swearing to himself that he wouldn’t do anything to upset Seong Jiwoo today.