Chapter 18: The Hero Project

The researcher sneered.
“So what if he’s the one who set the fire and ran out first?”

The homeroom teacher sighed, stepping in to stop him. It was understandable that the man was furious — his entire lab had gone up in flames — but this was way out of line.

“Sir, you know that’s impossible. There’s a 25-minute gap. The fire would’ve already spread long before then.”

“…Ha. Damn it. No matter how I think about it, it has to be that brat.”

The researcher spat curses, glaring venomously at Yoo Heero. Sung Ji-woo let out a sharp breath.

Still not giving up? You’re really going to drag an innocent kid down with you?

“You’re accusing him without a single piece of evidence? Just your gut feeling? And that too, against someone completely uninvolved?”

“Uninvolved? You think he has nothing to do with it? Ha!”

“Then explain it. What’s the connection?”

Ji-woo tilted his chin slightly, daring the man to say something that would make sense.

“…”

But instead, the researcher just bit his lip so hard it bled, refusing to speak.
The moment Ji-woo looked away, Heero’s mouth curved slightly — a faint, twisted smirk.
Unaware, the researcher continued to ramble.

“I saw that kid hanging around the research building for days before the fire.”

“Huh?”

Not just Ji-woo — everyone nearby turned to stare, stunned by the absurd claim.
That was his grand evidence? Really?

“I’m telling you, I saw him!”

“Is it against school rules to go near the research building?”

“…Well, not exactly.”

Exactly. Even though it was a restricted area, it was still within school grounds. Walking nearby wasn’t prohibited.

“And you were the one who told us to go there for a post-gate medical checkup, weren’t you?”

“What? I don’t remember saying that—”

“Right. Because if we keep talking, it might get uncomfortable for you, huh? Maybe you should stop there.”

Ji-woo’s tone had turned sharp, deliberate. The researcher’s face twisted in irritation, but before things escalated, their teacher intervened again — this time with a firm, level voice.

“I think it’s clear now that there’s been a misunderstanding. Please stop insisting and return to your duties. I believe the administration is looking for you as well.”

Realizing he had no allies here, the researcher backed down, though not before shooting one last venomous glare at Heero. Ji-woo flipped him off behind his back.

Seriously. What an insufferable man.

“Well, that was… something. What was his problem with you, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Maybe… he just didn’t like me?”

“Life really doesn’t run out of surprises, huh?”

Ji-woo tried to lighten the mood. He didn’t want Heero dwelling on this too long.
It was disgusting enough that someone with a clear alibi was accused out of pure spite.

“Still… thank you, Sunbae. For standing up for me. It’s the first time anyone’s ever been on my side.”

Ji-woo froze.
Even if I’m innocent, without someone to believe me, I’m still the villain.

The words hit something deep in him — a wound that hadn’t healed.
The memory of the X-Gate incident came crashing back: the shouting, the disbelief, the way everyone turned on him simply because they needed someone to blame.

Back then, no one had stood by him.

He clenched his fists, exhaling softly.
“I’m glad you were with me this time.”

Heero smiled faintly, eyes soft and distant.
“…I’m glad I met you too, Sunbae.”

The look in his eyes shifted — pure, almost reverent.

The fire took several days to fully contain. The research wing, packed with high-value equipment and classified documents, was declared an accident.
When Ji-woo heard that, he only scoffed. Of course. I knew they’d sweep it under the rug.

[<Hunter Issue> Thread: Whatever happened to that ‘Hero Project’ from 20 years ago?]

Remember that huge announcement from the Hunter Association two decades back?
Something about creating superpowered individuals through gene modification?
The media went wild, human rights groups freaked out, the government debated funding it—and then suddenly it just… vanished.
I was randomly thinking about it today.
Does anyone even remember that anymore? There’s barely anything online—just one old blog post from 19 years ago.

Comments:

• I thought I was the only one who remembered that lol. Asked my friends, they all said they didn’t. Thought my memory got tampered.

• Holy crap, that’s a throwback. Everyone thought we were getting the first “genetically engineered human.” The hype was insane.

• Never heard of it tbh.
  └ How old are you?
  └ Fifteen.
  └ Go to bed, kid.

• I really thought the Hunter Association was about to make their own Avengers.
  └ More like Power Rangers vibes, honestly 😂

• I remember thinking humanity was doomed if they did that. Like in those apocalypse movies where people play god and get wrecked for it.
  └ You mean like AI stuff?
  └ Yeah lmao, I was a terrified elementary kid back then.

• I heard they spent nearly a billion won on it.
  └ If that’s true, no way the Association would just let it die quietly.
  └ They always talk big and never deliver. Like when they promised to clear the X-Gate. What a joke.
  └ What do they even do, seriously?

• Honestly, if it were possible, the U.S. would’ve done it already 😂
  └ Exactly. Those guys love this kind of thing.
  └ They’d already have made a real-life Avengers movie by now.

• My uncle said they actually tried but failed, so they scrapped it.
  └ For real?
  └ Lol sure, “my uncle works in government.” Classic.
  └ Nah, seriously, he does!
  └ Even if he does, how would he know? The project wasn’t even government-led. They bailed immediately to avoid being blamed if it blew up.
  └ Damn, almost believed you for a sec.

• With modern tech, don’t you think it could work now?
  └ Nah, the ethics laws alone would kill it. Total sci-fi stuff.
  └ True. People today are too conscious for that kind of experiment.

[Previous Post: Breaking — Fire at Special Hunter High’s Research Building in Gyeonggi Province]

The day before summer break, the results of the internship guild placements were finally announced — the highlight of every third-year’s summer. Excitement buzzed through the classroom.

A week earlier, each student had submitted a form listing their preferred guilds from first to seventh choice.
The final selection, however, depended entirely on the guilds themselves — and mostly on the students’ final exam results.

That meant Sung Ji-woo was, effectively, everyone’s worst rival.
If you applied to the same guild as him, your odds plummeted.
He was simply too good — no weaknesses to exploit.

Most of the class assumed he’d end up in the nation’s #1 guild, JeDo (제도) — the dream destination for every aspiring Hunter. Sponsored by a massive conglomerate, JeDo’s headquarters gleamed like a palace. The entire surrounding district had prospered thanks to them.

In Ji-woo’s past life, he had interned there — and even received an offer afterward.
But that was then. This time would be different.

“Alright, your internship assignments are out.”

The homeroom teacher switched on the classroom TV, displaying the finalized list.
It wasn’t a dramatic announcement, but the students’ hearts pounded as if they were in the finale of a survival show.

Guild names appeared in alphabetical order, with each selected intern’s name beside them.
One by one, students checked for their guilds — and then, as if by instinct, everyone’s eyes darted to the line for JeDo Guild.

[Guild: JeDo | Assigned Intern: Yoo Ho-bin]

“Whoa, no freaking way! Did you see that?!”

Yoo Ho-bin shot up from his seat, yelling in disbelief. He’d listed JeDo as his first choice purely out of arrogance — to “compete” with Ji-woo — even though he knew his chances were slim.

When he didn’t see his name anywhere else on the list, he scrolled down in frustration… only to find his name under JeDo.

A smug grin spread across his face.

After all the rumors about him and Ji-woo falling out, his reputation had tanked.
He’d spent the last two years trying to prove he could stand on his own — mostly by bullying weaker students. The result? A new nickname: “The one Ji-woo abandoned.”

Now, being accepted by JeDo meant everything to him.
To him, it was proof that he’d won.

Ha. They said Ji-woo’s above me? Bullshit. He’s always been beneath me.

Ho-bin straightened up proudly, eyes locking on Ji-woo across the room.
But Ji-woo didn’t even glance his way.
He yawned, bored.

The teacher clicked his tongue. “Serves you right for letting your pride run wild.”

That was when the rest of the class noticed something odd.

“Wait… don’t tell me Ji-woo didn’t even apply to JeDo?”

Whispers filled the air.
The realization spread quickly — Ji-woo hadn’t been rejected.
He’d simply chosen not to apply.