Cheon Young-jae once said that the way sensory-type Awakened perceive the location of other humans or animals is nearly impossible to explain.

While the sensation itself appears as something like flickering lanterns within a three-dimensional visual field, no such special effects are actually visible to the naked eye.

In short, they sense others’ presence in a form we simply can't understand or articulate.

“Like... something out of the fourth dimension. What’s it called? A Klein bottle? One of those impossible shapes that feel like they should exist, but don’t?”

Im Jae-hyeok, who was now seated beside me, fiddling with a public-access laptop, had likely been trying to pinpoint me in a similar manner.

He gave me a brief introduction, but I still dug deeper to get a clearer read on him.

Considering his age—past thirty—and his abilities, it was clear he wasn’t just some grunt. He was someone born with enough luck to be placed within Jeju’s Committee-adjacent circles.

He had his own circumstances.

“I didn’t come up through the Academy. Not even the Institutes. I was a professional sergeant.”

He added that with a bitter smile.

“Didn’t want this path at all. It just... sort of happened.”

His career had been different from the beginning. A twist of fate led him into our world.

By the time he entered, the Awakened-centered hierarchy was already firmly established. He was a latecomer.

Not too late, though—he ended up in Jeju, serving as a rank-and-file soldier.

But Im Jae-hyeok had a way of always veering into unlucky paths.

“Not to brag, but I went to a pretty decent school. That was fine, but I became a teaching assistant. Don’t ask—it happened after a drunken night. Still, I picked up a few survival tricks.”

From his perspective, life in Jeju offered no future.

At least not for someone in a combat role.

Watching his bunkmates get dragged off to the mainland, one by one, he began looking for a way into those cushy assignments he’d always eyed from the sidelines.

That’s when he found the research division—where he now worked.

He’d had a hunch watching Woo Min-hee’s subordinates loaf around at the Incheon lab: only a few actually worked, the rest were dead weight on payroll.

He quickly realized that many in the research division lacked proper knowledge, had minimal experience, and some didn’t even understand how to write an academic paper.

The question was—how could a combat-track guy pitch his way into a research role?

The day his neighboring sensory-type soldier got shipped to the mainland, Im Jae-hyeok drowned his sorrows in booze he normally avoided. But the next day, he stumbled across something entirely unexpected.

“There was this soldier with the surname Gu. Not a Hunter—military. I think he was a sergeant. Nothing really remarkable about him. Kind of abrasive, actually. I even saw him cursing out an official Awakened like it was nothing.”

Im Jae-hyeok, being neither assertive nor brave, never approached this Sergeant Gu directly.

Instead, from a distance, he kept confirming—again and again—that he could not sense Gu with his ability.

And so, he began forming the theoretical foundation of a research project that might finally get him out of the mud.

At first, it was thrilling.

There was no known precedent of a sensory-type being unable to detect someone. If he could be the first to discover and document it, the fame and recognition would be his.

But having once stepped into academia, Im Jae-hyeok knew to proceed with caution.

This discovery had to be his alone.

If he went around making vague claims about being the “first to discover it,” someone else would swoop in, declare themselves the discoverer, and steal the credit before he knew it.

To prevent that, he needed time-consuming observation, verifiable records, and endorsement from an authoritative figure who could validate his findings.

Luckless though he was, Im Jae-hyeok had no shortage of meticulousness.

He sent emails to aging scholars still stuck in Jeju, discussed the limits of sensory powers, and casually dropped similar inquiries to his superior officers and fellow sensory-types to quietly build evidence that he had long held interest in this topic.

The groundwork to become the official “first discoverer” went smoothly.

But the observation itself... not so much.

“Hun-ah! Hun-ah! Hun-ah!!”

Sergeant Gu was deteriorating by the day.

Thanks to the rapport Im Jae-hyeok had built with others nearby, he eventually learned what had happened in Gu’s past.

“Lost his whole squad during a frontier operation. Some paratrooped-in commander sent them into a danger zone without any official Awakened in the team. Out of four, only one came back.”

No one knew exactly what happened inside the rift.

Most assumed they ran into a monster. That the creature ambushed them without warning, wiping them out.

Im Jae-hyeok pulled every string and resource he had to get higher-ups to comment.

One senior officer agreed to speak on condition of anonymity.

“What a load of horseshit. You believe that? A large-type monster shows up outta nowhere, disables the whole patrol, and then executes them one by one? Are you fucking kidding me? And that guy? That useless bastard? He’s the one who walks out alive?”

The truth only grew murkier.

Eventually, Im Jae-hyeok had no choice but to approach Sergeant Gu directly, despite his personal aversion.

A direct interview was essential. One of the final key data points in his research design.

But Gu was already being shunned by everyone.

“Get lost, you fucker.”

That was Gu’s first response to him.

So, Im Jae-hyeok waited.

He suspected Gu had bipolar disorder and decided to try approaching when his mood seemed stable—offering alcohol or comfort items as bait.

But Gu didn’t care for booze, cigarettes, or anything else.

The only thing he asked for—over and over—was:

“I’m hungry.”

Hunger.

It was strange.

Rift personnel were provided with better food and rations than almost any other unit in Jeju.

Gu had the same access to rich meals as anyone else.

Yet he didn’t eat. Wouldn’t even lift his spoon.

Didn’t sneak extra rations either.

He simply refused to eat and constantly complained of being starving.

“Maybe he’s on drugs?”

One soldier offered that theory.

Strong stimulants often kill appetite, and the crash can feel like unbearable hunger.

In fact, soldiers working in the rifts were issued combat stimulants—chemical cousins of Nazi Germany’s methamphetamine—to be used in emergencies.

Even Gu’s commanding officer began to suspect drug addiction. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

But that wasn’t enough reason to remove him from duty.

Very few volunteered to work inside rifts.

Besides, apart from his attitude, Gu caused no trouble. He didn’t bitch behind anyone’s back like the others.

In short, an unpleasant guy—but one who could fill the roster.

Instead of kicking him out, the commander tried a workaround: stop giving Gu stimulants.

Gu didn’t care.

Didn’t ask. Didn’t complain.

All he ever said was that he was hungry.

And Im Jae-hyeok kept watching him. Relentlessly. From one step back. Constantly verifying in real-time that Gu remained outside the range of his sensory ability.

And Gu’s hunger only grew worse.

He lost weight dramatically. His health declined.

Jaundice. Bloodshot eyes. Sluggish posture.

All classic signs of malnutrition appeared.

Yet the commander never considered pulling him back.

In Jeju, where human lives were cheap, broken men were rarely saved. Their deaths didn’t hurt the commander’s record either.

The half-dead Sergeant Gu was assigned a combat mission.

The task was to eliminate a small group of monsters threatening a forward base route—led by a squadron of regular Awakened.

Im Jae-hyeok had no desire to go, but he volunteered to see his research through.

Gu’s commanding officer gave him the most dangerous role: decoy.

During the fall of the old Hunter generation, soldiers briefly filled the gap.

Unlike the Hunters, they didn’t do wild stunts like Intimidation Techniques. They weren’t insane.

Instead, they loaded French-imported grenade launchers with riot rubber rounds, using them to sting monsters and draw attention.

That was standard military luring doctrine.

Gu, now practically mummified, accepted the role without protest.

“He didn’t even respond. Just picked up the grenade launcher no one else would touch.”

The mission began.

As Awakened and soldiers took position on a favorable hill, Gu stepped out and staggered toward the line of monsters alone.

There were about ten in the group, two of them medium-class.

As always, they were headed toward Earth—slow, coordinated, and lifeless.

Gu stumbled forward and fired.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The rubber rounds pelted the leading monster.

Everyone, including Im Jae-hyeok, assumed Gu was as good as dead.

Boom!

The monsters reacted.

Every single one turned toward him.

They recognized the threat.

Led by the medium-types, the entire group charged Gu.

“Combat positions!”

Boom!

The Awakened-led formation engaged.

It was the usual bloodbath.

Out of fifty soldiers, ten were killed or wounded. One Awakened passed out mid-battle from exhaustion.

When casualties reached five or six, the commander—without thinking—listed seven dead.

He’d already assumed Gu was gone.

But something no one expected happened.

Gu returned.

“I’m saved! I’m finally saved! God, it feels like I’m alive again!”

He walked through the swirling light particles rising from the fallen monsters, smiling a radiant, almost alien smile no one had ever seen on him before.

He was reborn.

He scarfed down four full bowls of rice—barely touched his food before—and devoured side dishes he’d never touched. {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Even asked for alcohol.

Sergeant Gu had come back to life.

Once a shriveled-up plant, now soaking in water, reviving with flesh and color.

His commander was baffled, but didn’t dwell on it.

The mood at the post-battle gathering wasn’t bright—too many had died.

Most quietly ate and left.

Gu didn’t care. He focused entirely on satisfying his long-starved body.

Im Jae-hyeok saw his chance.

He approached cautiously with a pre-prepared bottle of pre-war soju—chilled—and offered it.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Gu recognized him.

Seemed to know what he’d said before, too. But just scoffed and kept eating like some Western gunslinger in a chow scene.

Im Jae-hyeok felt slighted—being brushed off by a guy his age—but his ambition outweighed his pride.

“You did great out there.”

He offered the drink.

Gu accepted.

They drank in silence.

Im Jae-hyeok poured, Gu drank. Im Jae-hyeok poured again, Gu emptied it.

It was Gu who broke the lopsided dynamic.

“You want something from me?”

“N-No, nothing really. Just, well... I was wondering...”

The unexpected question made his rehearsed script blur in his mind.

“I just wanted to ask, what made you feel better all of a sudden?”

“Better?”

“Y-You kept saying you were hungry, right?”

A clumsy question.

Back then, he didn’t think there was any deeper meaning to that hunger.

Gu gave a soft smile.

“Oh, that? I think I get it now.”

Drunk, he stood up.

His bloodshot eyes pierced the dark.

“Of course. Of course I do.”

That was the last time they met.

A stroke of unexpected luck had pushed Im Jae-hyeok close enough to Gu to catch attention.

Thanks to his extensive contact with scholars and impressive basic knowledge, someone recommended him for a research post.

He traded his pressed uniform for a clean white lab coat that smelled of sunshine.

As expected, the new job was easy, comfortable, and above all—safe.

In that relaxed atmosphere, Im Jae-hyeok felt a moment of peace.

But it didn’t last.

He soon began to feel an insatiable hunger.

Ambition.

He wanted to rise higher.

To submit even greater findings and climb further up.

Maybe not enough to become a Committee member like his peers—but at least, to earn the title of “expert.”

He had the perfect subject.

Sergeant Gu.

Unfortunately, by the time he went looking again, the lonely man was no longer of this world.

Killed in action.

With no family, there was no funeral. Just a cremation and an unmarked urn in a storage vault.

A common soldier’s death.

But Im Jae-hyeok saw something more—something off.

“He just grabbed a Hunter weapon and walked into the rift alone... at night.”

He fixed his gaze on me, waiting for a response.

Then whispered softly:

“Said he was hungry.”

Now, I feel it too.

Yeah. That hunger.

The kind that never, ever goes away.