Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kim Rok Soo had killed a man. And a woman. And their child. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't self-defense. It also wasn't a job assigned to him as a hunter. In fact, if he was to truly dwell on it, which he did, as he sat blankly next to the three corpses, he realised that it was simply because he had felt a faint urge to do so. 

A family of three, having just finished dinner. They would never see the light of day again; but he did. After spending the whole night sitting next to the corpses, he watched the sunrise through the window. It painted the sky a bluish orange hue. If the child had seen it, surely she would've been bewildered. Perhaps she would've made a silly comment on it; "it's just as pretty as mama," or, perhaps she would've been awestruck to the point of not even being able to speak.

He glanced down at her, his eyes devoid of life as he reached down and ran his hand through her hair. It was blond, yet dyed red with the blood oozing out of her head. He hadn't killed her directly. He never intended to. In fact, when he noticed the child, for a brief moment, he had even considered taking her in and raising her as his own. Though she probably wouldn't consent, after having witnessed him murder her parents. She had been scared by him to the point that she couldn't even run properly, and ended up smashing her head against the broken edge of the wooden coffee table. The corner hit her forehead harshly, stabbing into it deeply. It had basically caught her head, so she hung from there, before eventually slipping out and falling onto the floor. A pathetic end to a pathetic life. 

Kim Rok Soo thought for a while. Had he gotten so used to slaughtering monsters, that even human lives weren't of much significance to him anymore? As he pierced the man's heart with his knife last night, he had felt a strange monotony. When he had shot the screaming woman in the head five times, he had felt relief; she's finally quiet, he had thought. Now he was dreading her silence. The little child hadn't screamed though. It seemed that she feared he would kill her the second she even lets a squeak out of her mouth, so she had cupped her mouth with her hands as she sobbed.

He took a deep breath, his hand slightly red with the little girl's blood. It seemed some of it still had not dried. He forced himself to stand up. As he did, he felt a thousand needles stab at his calves and ankles, making him stagger and hold onto the wall for support. He would've stood still for stability, but he couldn't bring himself to spend another second in that room. The bloodbath had attracted the flies, and it was already reeking of blood; and uncomfortable metallic stench that irritated his nostrils. If he had thought in the past that the smell of rotting flesh of monsters smelled the worst, he was certainly wrong. Human blood smelled even worse. He wobbled but kept walking, his hand sliding against the cool wooden wall. Their bodies were sprawled out in the living room. He kept walking until he reached a wooden dark-colored door. 

It was slightly open, and its creak seemed to echo in the wretched silence. Or perhaps he was just nauseated to the point of hallucinating.  He paid it no mind and walked in. It looked like an office, with a table in between and a chair behind it. Several books laid comfortably on the table, as well as stray pages. And a journal. Its cover was blue, and looked a bit too old. He nudged the pages by the edges till they turned over, reading a little bit of the first entry. 

My dear, it's your first birthday today. Your grandmother gave you this diary as a gift, although the real gift is the entries she ordered me to write into it. She said to use it as a journal and write everything I've ever wanted to say to you in it, and then gift it to you when you grow up. She also said it's because I'm bad at expressing my feelings, but that's just bs. She doesn't know how close you and I are. She doesn't need to know anyway. But I liked the idea, so I gratefully accepted it. I dressed you up in a beautiful red dress today, though it doesn't truly matter since you don't remember. I'll attach a picture of it if I remember to print one out later...

She went on and on describing the birthday, the gifts that had been given to her daughter, the sentiments, the clown that all the children at the party were terrified of; all in all, just a normal birthday. There was no picture though, so he assumed she eventually forgot about it. He skimmed through the pages, stopping only at the last entry. It was incomplete. She must've been writing this when she rushed out.

Your father is too kind, he brought an injured stranger home from the side of the road. I understand his strong sense of empathy, but must be truly disregard our safety like this? Anyway, I've let it slip this time because the man seems to be gentle and injured to the point where he probably won't be able to move freely for a while. He is a hunter (a handsome one, I'll ask him if he has a son he can introduce to you (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)) so he said he'll be able to heal quickly if he rests. Most likely, he'll leave tomorrow morning. He's very talkative. He has been talking with your father in the guest room for quite a while now. 

It's been too much time. Their talks are now a bit louder, but I can't really hear them. I can't tell if they're arguing about something serious or about the soccer match. I'm a bit worried. Your father has been in there for almost 2 hours. Ah, wait .. come to think of it, that man never told us

The entry ends there. There was a line scribbled randomly in the third quarter of the page. It must've happened when she hurriedly closed the journal with the pen in her hands after hearing her husband scream in the room. She must've rushed out, horrified as she saw him bloody and hazy, staggering away from the "hunter." 

"How... How can this be...?" He remembered her expression of extreme horror at the sight. Her shrill screams, her vain attempts at throwing random things at the hunter. Her aim sucked, but she left him no choice but to draw his gun. He buckled it and pointed it at her, only to scare her. But she started heading to the door. He acted fast, he acted on instinct. He did what he normally does in dungeons when his prey tries to dodge and run – he shot her. Once, twice. She fell on the living room carpet, unmoving. But the ritual was embedded in his bones from hunting various monsters, so despite the lack of movements from her, he continued to shoot her until his batch of bullets finished. 

He watched the man heave strained breaths and crawl over to his wife, but he lost all energy about five inches away from her. 

It was then that he saw the little girl. Her room was on the opposite side, so she stood in front of him, face to face. Her eyes held pure fear and hatred towards him. Only when he saw the little girl did it dawn on him. He had killed a man. And a woman. Killed them just as mercilessly as he slayed the monsters in the dungeons. He bit his lips and dropped his weapons, raising his arms in surrender, but the girl was little and naive. She didn't understand the gesture and took it as a threat, cupping her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs. 

Kim Rok Soo, reluctantly, took a small step towards her. "I won't hurt you," he whispered, as gently as he could manage. But his voice cracked. It sounded genuine; a bit too genuine coming from someone who had just murdered two people. 

"Mmph!!" The girl took on her heels and tried to run towards the door. In her mind, she probably thought that she should be able to call someone for help. But, as Rok Soo took another step to stop her, to make her understand that he won't hurt her, her mind blanked and her feet slipped from under her. In a swift movement, her head hit the broken piece of the coffee table. Kim Rok Soo stood still for a while, his hand stretched out, confused as to why she was standing diagonally with her head suspended in the air next to the coffee table. 

Until he saw the blood drip down.

Until he saw her head slip and fall on the floor with a loud "thud."

Kim Rok Soo put the journal aside. His head started spinning. He was thinking too much. 

... No. 

He realised after a while that it wasn't just a simple headache. With a quaky breath, he glanced at his left hand, the only hand covered with a black glove. He had been poisoned by a monster, an ant-like creature that was almost double his size. It spewed a green substance out of its mouth. To be more precise, out of a sac present on the top of its throat that stored the poison. It was a defense mechanism, not a hunting one. So naturally it only shot This substance when it sensed danger. This substance was a high-grade poison that heavily infected the skin it touched. Moreover, if the person infected with it doesn't immediately cut it off, then the infection spreads to the entire body. 

The symptoms include a sudden rash, followed by the skin burning off. 

As he took off the gloves, he realised that the skin had attached itself to the glove while burning. Removing the glove would now result in removal of two layers of skin with it. He bit his cheeks and swallowed his pained groan. He didn't want to make a sound in this place; everything seemed to echo. He felt like hearing his own pain again and again on repeat would make him even more miserable. 

He could cut it off. 

He should cut it off. Otherwise, he won't be able to live. But each time, he kept remembering the little girl's lifeless eyes, her bloodied hair. It didn't seem fair to her; to take her life and then heal himself in her home. 

He bit down the pain and walked over to the shelves. He could distract himself, at least, as a last favour to himself. On it, a book caught his eye. [The Birth of a Hero] was the title. The title made it to be much too superficial; hero? Such a thing does not exist. Everyone is selfish. No one would selflessly save people. The so-called "heroes" and the like always manipulate to have things their way. Kim Rok Soo was no fan of fiction, with life already being fictious enough, but with the pain reaching his wrist, he winced, and hurriedly grabbed it. 

He staggered to the table, his breath unstable as he sat on the chair. He glanced at his wrist; it was truly spreading. His wrist first lost all color, then turned blue, then finally settled into a hideous red shade with several black spots about. He covered it with his black shirt, focusing on the book. 

Now that the incubation period was over, the infection was spreading painfully fast. Halfway through the book, his eyes felt heavy. He knew he wasn't sleepy – his eyelids were red with itching rash. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the book. His whole body looked like a demon's, with the rashes having burnt away most of his skin and black spots plaguing his once handsome face. With this, he fell asleep, just as he had put the other three to sleep. 

Chapter Text

"Are you willing to fight with your life on the line, for the sake of humanity?" 

An absurd proposition. The answer was simple. Kim Rok Soo replied, "Yes." 

A lie. He was willing to fight; but it was not for such a noble reason. He needed money, hunting monsters provided money. That was reason enough for him to agree. 

A contract was signed, his life was handed over to the corporation. His heart thumped with excitement with the thought that he would, at the very least, not return home to an empty table. He would not have to starve for days to no end. The survival instinct easily overcame the trauma the dungeons imposed and he easily slayed everything that needed to be slayed. With only his brute strength and undeterred stance and determination, he climbed the ranks at a crazy rate. The flesh-eating goblins, the hunter eagles, the poisonous snakes that could transform to lure in their prey – majority of the S-ranked monsters had been killed by him. 

But, despite his achievements, he never gave himself enough time to harbour any pride for it. He jumped from one dungeon to the next, taking only enough time to let his wounds heal in between the missions.

He cleared so many dungeons all by himself that he was instantly promoted to General. No one addressed him as such though. Instead, they called him "Hero."

The Hero who arose from the slums to protect humanity, the hero who didn't feed empty words, but instead followed through with all of his promises to the media.

He wondered how the admiring people would feel, once they find out he killed a family on a whim. "Hero," they said. It was so fictious that it made him snicker in amusement. Truly, people who were privileged had enough time to loiter around and label others with such rewarding titles. 

It worked in his favour though; the more the publicity, the more the demand, the more the income. 

He had saved up a lot, so that he would eventually be able to retire, but now, as he was engulfed by darkness, he couldn't help but sigh in genuine grief. All the effort, the fake smiles in he headlines, all gone to waste...

In the midst of the tranquility, a systematic voice spoke up. 

"Activating system... Downloading data... Setting up scenario..." Kim Rok Soo, opened his eyes in confusion. He looked around, until his eyes fell on a blue screen. The words it announced were written on it clearly and boldly. He reached out to touch it, but his hand just passed through it. 

Kim Rok Soo: "Hello?"

The window spoke again, "Download complete. Host acquired. Measuring vital points... Strength, 21. Magic, 0. Intellect, 89. Special skills; immunity to alcohol. Role, minor scum villain."

Kim Rok Soo stared at it in awe. Something like this... It was like he was in a real life game! It even looked realistic, displaying a screen with everything stated on it. The intellect was... moderate. But why was the strength so low? Surely this database didn't belong to Kim Rok Soo, who was known to clear S-class dungeons in less than three months in real time!

Just then, the window spoke again: "Transferring host to the vessel... Please excuse the inconvenience." As it said this, Kim Rok Soo felt the ground beneath his feet break, and he fell down deep into the abyss. He didn't want to close his eyes, but he couldn't keep them open either. His eyelids trembled before finally giving in and closing. 

When he opened them again, he saw white. Hazily, his eyes twitched and his fingertips shivered. He felt weak. Weak to the point that even the slightest slip of the foot seemed like it would send him straight to death. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips in a thin line, only now realising that his back was pressed against a soft cushion. He groaned lightly, sitting up with a splitting headache. It wasn't quarter as bad as the one he had died with. His eyelashes fluttered, his breath unstable. When he raised his head to look ahead, he slightly flinched-- flinched! The great Hero who walked on a red carpet, the fearless hunter who was worshipped by everyone, yet just one look at the person made him tremble. 

He didn't fear the man. He was just taken by surprise. It wasn't everyday that he got to see people with such bright red hair. That person felt almost fictional, with a red hue in his great eyes and a thin stature. A loose white shirt draped over his shoulders, his hair messy but in a way that didn't look ugly, his eyes slightly swollen as if he had just woken up. 

"Uhh," when Kim Rok Soo opened his mouth, that person opened his mouth as well. When he closed his lips tightly, that person quickly followed suit. He raised his arm; so did that person. He waved; and so did that person. Gulping, he watched that person's Adam's apple bob up and down. The golden frame around that person, his movements, his surroundings that same as Kim Rok Soo's, he was certain that he was looking in a... mirror. But...?

Before he could contemplate it further, there was a knock on the door. He startled at the sudden sound, his entire body recoiling backwards. Three consecutive, rhythmatic knocks, followed by the voice of an old man. "Young Master Cale, are you awake?" His tone carried a strong sense of boredom and monotony. He sounded like he had much better places to be at than to wake up a spoiled Young Master.  "The Count formally invited you for breakfast this morning. It's improper to be late." 

Ignoring the latter part of his speech, Kim Rok Soo focused on the name he had mentioned. Cale? The scum villain with fiery bright red hair, insignificant grey eyes, a weak structure. These are the words the author of [The Birth of a Hero] had used to describe the Lout of the Count's Family. A minor inconvenience; the protagonist of the novel, Choi Han, had dealt with him in less than two chapters. 

"Recognition complete. Password: Lout of the Count's Family, verified. Synchronization of host and vessel successful. System setup complete. Waiting for response..." 

Although he could see the screen, it wasn't the one the voice was coming from. Cale looked around the room, trying to find a source of the sound. The words were just spawning inside his head; he couldn't find any external source of the sound. It was a bit of a headache. 

"Young Master Cale." The man outside the door spoke again. Without a warning, the doorknob was twisted and he entered the room. He was an old man, just like Cale had guessed. His face was adorned with wrinkles and eyes only opened to the size of a crescent. His gentle smile made his wrinkles even more prominent. His expression didn't match his voice at all. He looked like a dutiful and responsible servant, yet his voice held the authority and the boredom of a King. 

"..." Kim Rok Soo, no– Cale, bit his lips. Why bother knocking if you're gonna waltz in anyway?!

The servant's smile twisted sinister. "If Young Master was awake, then he should have answered, no?" There it was; the authority he held in his deep voice. He was all smiles, but Kim Rok Soo had met so many double faced people in his life that he recognised this kind immediately. 

However, he didn't know what kind of relationship this man had with Cale Henituse, for him to be so bold in ordering around his Young Master. He didn't want to make a mistake and end up getting caught, so he made a much believable excuse. "I was still half-asleep, sorry." 

His face was blank, but inside he was smiling proudly at himself and patting himself on the shoulder. Not too formal nor too informal. This should be perfect, right? 

But his servant gaped with his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide and fixated on Cale. Cale froze, thinking he might have made a mistake. Right. He was the scum villain. He supposed he shouldn't apologise to people on random. 

The expression on the servant's face evaporated as quickly as it came, the scowl replaced with an amused smile. "I have prepared your bath. Would you like to step in now?" 

Cale nodded, lifting the sheets and scurrying out the bed. There were two doors in the room, one through which the servant had entered, and another that was closed shut. It was pretty obvious the latter was the water closet, so he made his way inside, slamming the door shur behind him.

"[Quest!] Have breakfast with the Henituse family! A simple beginner quest, use this opportunity to acquaint yourself with the vessel's loved ones! The real game begins after this quest is completed. 

Rewards: +50 affection points from each family member

Penalty for Refusal: an unexpected misfortune."

Below the quest it gave two options; [accept] or [refuse].

He only now remembered the servant's words. He had mentioned something like a breakfast, hadn't he?

As much as Cale wanted to just loiter around and do nothing, he didn't know to what degree the "misfortune" would harm him. And Cale was not someone who liked pain. Naturally, he reluctantly pressed [accept].