Chapter 10: The Girl Who Crashed into His Team

When he turned his head, a girl was standing there, looking straight at him.
Sung Ji-woo tilted his head slightly.

“Why?”

He didn’t know who she was, but since she had spoken informally first, he decided to reply the same way.

“For the final project—if you don’t have a team yet, do it with me.”

Her confident voice echoed down the hallway.
She strode up to him in a few quick steps, standing right in front of him.
He couldn’t remember her exactly, but her face looked oddly familiar—like he had seen her somewhere before, though he couldn’t quite place it.

Reading the uncertainty on his face, the girl gave a wry smile and pointed at the name tag pinned to her chest—boldly, as if to say Look properly.
The motion was so assertive that Ji-woo found himself glancing at her name tag without thinking.

“Wow, seriously? I’m Lee Hye-rin. We’ve been in the same class for two years.”

“…Lee Hye-rin?”

“Yeah. Lee Hye-rin.”

The moment he heard her name, something clicked in his head.

Hunter from the Helios Guild.

He hadn’t expected to meet her at this time, so he hadn’t recognized her face right away.
Lee Hye-rin was a renowned Hunter, one whose name often appeared among the top 100 in the world rankings.

Sung Ji-woo had even partied with her a few times.
It was only for monster cleanup in a collection-type Gate, but she’d left a solid impression.
She was one of the few Hunters who didn’t get on his nerves—someone who did her job well, didn’t cause trouble, and never acted entitled just because she had a Supporter like him.
If anything, she’d seemed a little awkward about receiving buffs from him.

Comparing her now to his memories, she looked much smaller and more delicate.
As a professional Hunter, she had been more muscular, her body toned and sharp.
And her trademark—bright red hair tied up high—was now gone.
At present, her long black hair fell naturally over her shoulders.

Her ability, fittingly for someone with fiery red hair, was Explosion.
And her personality matched—bold, fiery, and brutally honest.
In his past life, Ji-woo had always avoided trouble and kept quiet, holding back all the things he wanted to say to people who annoyed him.
But Hye-rin? She had always said exactly what he’d wanted to say—out loud, without hesitation.

There had been a few jerks who’d hit on him or caused problems.
Hye-rin had decked them without mercy.
She was straightforward, fierce, and refreshingly honest.

He had thought they first met after becoming Hunters, but apparently, their connection went back much further.
It was… unexpectedly interesting.
He’d assumed reliving these days would be tedious, but it seemed there were surprises waiting for him after all.

“…We went to the same school?” he asked, astonished.

Hye-rin clicked her tongue, looking mildly offended.
Apparently, blunt emotions came naturally to her.

“I didn’t expect much, but damn, that stings a bit. Anyway, I saw you break up with those idiots earlier. You don’t have a team now, right? So team up with me and Yoon-jae.”

“Yoon-jae?”

No way. Shin Yoon-jae?

There was one person inseparable from Hye-rin—Shin Yoon-jae.
Their partnership was famous nationwide.

“Yeah, Shin Yoon-jae.”

Shin Yoon-jae was a Hunter who controlled Wind, which synergized perfectly with Hye-rin’s explosive power.
Thanks to that, though she was an A-rank ability user, her teamwork with Yoon-jae had earned her S-rank status in all but name.

He hadn’t expected him to be in the same school, much less the same class.
He’d always thought their partnership had formed much later—but apparently, it started right here, in high school.

“He went here too? Same class?” Ji-woo asked in disbelief.

Yoon-jae wasn’t in the top 100, but he was still widely respected as a high-tier Hunter.
If Earth hadn’t been destroyed, he probably would’ve made it into the 99th spot soon enough.
He was fast, efficient, and reliable.

Another one of the rare non-annoying Hunters.

Ji-woo thought quickly and came to the obvious conclusion.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Of course it did.
Why would he ever refuse this team?
It was a perfect combination—an S-tier pair of Dealers and him as the Supporter.
He couldn’t have asked for a better deal.

In his last life, his final project had been hell, stuck with useless teammates who’d nearly tanked his grade.
But this time?
He’d basically just hit the jackpot.
Throw out the trash, and a luxury car rolls in.

Chuckling under his breath, Ji-woo muttered, “Heh… this ride’s gonna be smooth.”

“Huh?”

“Ah, nothing. When’s the roster due?”

“Right now. I’m submitting it today—just need your name.”

Without hesitation, Ji-woo took the pen she offered and wrote his name neatly.

“Wait, why are you the team leader?”

“Don’t like it?”

“No, I love it.”

A team leader who handled everything? Perfect.
Teams could have up to four people, and though they only had three, Ji-woo felt no need to push their luck.
This trio was already overpowered.

Hye-rin blinked, a bit taken aback by how smoothly this was going.
She’d expected him to refuse at least three times—and she’d even prepared to threaten him into signing if necessary.
He really had changed.

“Huh. Didn’t expect you to say yes that easily.”

“Me? Why not?”

“You didn’t even remember we were in the same class. So you don’t know my ability either. And you’re agreeing just like that? That Sung Ji-woo?”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You hate when your teammates troll. You glare at them, don’t buff them, and scare the crap out of everyone.”

“Isn’t that normal?”

“…Actually, yeah. Fair point. Trolls are the problem, not you.”

Ji-woo shrugged proudly, and Hye-rin nodded, enlightened.

“Yeah, losers always talk the loudest anyway. Everyone said you’re terrifying, so I thought you’d refuse me right away.”

Honestly, in his past life, he probably would’ve refused—rudely, even.

“And yet you still asked?”

“Yeah. I don’t care what someone’s personality is like—as long as they can work.”

“Exactly. That’s why I agreed.”

“…Well, damn. Guess we actually get along.”

Hye-rin’s eyes gleamed.
She was already calculating how best to use him.
Stealing away the golden Supporter that all the nobodies used to cling to? What a win.
Her lips curled smugly.

But Ji-woo didn’t mind that predatory glint.
Because he was thinking the exact same thing.
He was already plotting how to milk these high-powered Dealers for all the benefits he could.

A heavenly—or perhaps hellish—match made in convenience.

“Okay, I’m submitting this now. No take-backs, got it? If you bail during the final project, I’ll hunt you down to the ends of hell. I’m very persistent.”

“Yeah, go ahead and submit it.”

The moment he said that, alarm bells went off in Ji-woo’s head.
He suddenly remembered something he had to submit—something that wasn’t this.

His mentoring report.

He checked the time. Less than 30 minutes before the deadline.

“…I’m screwed.”

“It’s too late to back out! No erasing names now!”
Just in case, Hye-rin spat—literally—on the paper next to his signature to “seal” it.

“Ugh, gross. No, I meant I forgot something else! The deadline’s in thirty minutes!”

“What deadline?”

“The mentoring report.”

“Plenty of time. Write it now.”

“…What if it takes me three hours to write two sentences?”

Her face twisted in horror.
“What the hell kind of report is that?”

“The one for my mentee—Yoo Hee-ro. You know, that second-year kid.”

“Oh, that one? Everyone knows about that.”

Ji-woo blinked. “Everyone?”

“Yeah. The whole school’s talking about how you’re suffering with that useless kid the teachers gave up on.”

“…Why do rumors sound like that?”

“Because they’re true.”

When he thought about it, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
He sighed. “…Fair enough.”

“So you’re writing that report, huh? Want me to help? If it takes you three hours for two sentences, you’re doomed anyway.”

“What? Do you even know what we did?”

“Do I have to?”

Ji-woo didn’t know this, but Hye-rin had been vice president of the student council in her second year, and she was now the class president.
She was basically a paperwork machine.

Cracking her neck and stretching her arms, she grabbed a pen and started writing at lightning speed.

“…You’re amazing,” Ji-woo muttered, watching her hand glide like the wind.
Even though he’d only told her they’d done “meditation” and “mental training,” she was somehow producing a masterpiece worthy of a scholarship essay.

“Therefore, I plan to continue this training regimen regularly, expecting that Yoo Hee-ro will achieve boundless growth as a result.”

Ji-woo read the last line out loud and clapped.
“All done!”

Hye-rin smiled proudly as she handed him the report, but he snatched it and took off running.

“Seriously, thank you!”

“Run!”

Only three minutes left till the deadline.
Ji-woo bolted like the wind.
Hye-rin watched him go, grinning with satisfaction.
Now he was firmly tied to her—no escaping this team.

“Hehehe…”

“…Why are you laughing like that?” asked Yoon-jae, walking up beside her.

“You lucky bastard. Just trust your noona this time.”

For the upcoming finals, they were definitely going to ride the Sung Ji-woo bus all the way to victory.

By Wednesday, it was business as usual.
After lunch, Ji-woo headed to the training room, as always.
There was already movement inside—Hee-ro must have arrived first.
Opening the door, Ji-woo began to apologize.

“Sorry, I couldn’t come on Monday. My homeroom teacher—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Yoo Hee-ro was there, mid-sit-up, drenched in sweat.
He’d tossed his uniform shirt somewhere and was only wearing a white T-shirt, the fabric clinging faintly to the lines of his toned body.
Beads of sweat glistened on his pale face.

Click.

The door closed behind Ji-woo.

Hee-ro wiped his sweat and slowly stood up.