“I’d like to write you a recommendation to the Korean National Academy for the Awakened.”

Both Suho and Jun stared at Jihyo. An awkward silence passed between them for a moment before she decided to break it.

“It’s the most prestigious academy for hunters in the nation,” she explained. “And within the top ten in the world. The Bureau is able to recommend people who we think have the potential to the school.”

Frankly speaking, the Bureau had given up on bothering, since most talented young hunters didn't need the Bureau to ‘discover’ them. They either got into National with their own strength or had already been famous since they were small children. But in front of her was someone who might actually need it.

“Of course, we can’t guarantee admission,” she continued. “But a recommendation from us would streamline you straight to the testing phase without the preliminary audition rounds. And we would also pay for all of your travel and exam fees.”

She made sure to tack on the last part. It wasn’t officially that way, but she’d make it happen for Suho. She had to.

He hesitated, glancing at the card in his hand, his bloodstained hands leaving red fingerprints on the white surface.

“…I can’t take the exam,” he finally answered.

Her face immediately fell.

“Pardon me, but why?” she asked. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

He shook his head.

“I’m too old.”

She was taken off guard for a second. Sixteen was too old? But then she realized where the misunderstanding must have been.

“Ah, you mean for the first year test,” she said, nodding. “True, that is for 15 year olds. But you still qualify for the second year test.”*

He glanced at her.

“The second year test?”

“Mhm. There is a separate exam for prospective second years,” she explained. “Since awakenings can happen at any time, the academy doesn’t want to miss out on kids that might’ve discovered their power past the deadline for first years. So they also accept students starting from the second year. Of course, the exam is more difficult, but if it’s Suho, I don't doubt that you’ll pass.”

“I can’t pass it.”

“Pardon? Why can't you? You’re so skilled.”

“I’ve never been to school before.”

“If you’re worried about the written exam, that won’t be a problem,” she said. “Many prospective hunters come from orphanages and don't have a lot of education. As long as you study a little bit and follow the curriculum they recommend for the exam, you can pass it. The Bureau will help you with that too—we’ll pay for textbook costs and everything. Whatever you need.”

He pursed his lips, eyes still scanning over the card he’d already read over several times.

“…I’m not interested,” he finally responded.

He held the dirtied card back towards her.

“I don't want to be a hunter.”

“…Eh?”

…

She glanced between him and the card for a moment, nonplussed.

“I’m happy here,” he said simply. “I don’t need to leave.”

She stared at his outstretched hand. But then another reached in and pushed the card back into Suho’s fingers.

She looked up to see Jun smiling softly at the boy.

“Let’s at least consider it,” he said.

Suho seemed to hesitate. Jihyo inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the assist.

“Yes, please just take some time to think about it,” she added. “I won’t force you to make a decision. But I think it’d be great to at least give it a try.”

He frowned slightly.

A moment passed. And then two.

And then finally, he sighed and tucked the card into the front pocket of his bloodied jacket.

“Okay.”

Jihyo cheered inwardly once she heard the his words.

“I’ll consider it.”

⊕

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Why did you make me consider it?”

Jun looked over his shoulder at Suho as they entered temple grounds, the boy dragging a tarp filled with raptor corpses behind him.

“You’ve never cared for hunters.”

The monk stared for a second, then sighed.

“Look at you,” he replied. “You’re doing the work of a hunter already.”

“I don't go inside the gates.”

“You do something even more difficult.”

He sat down on a bench beneath a bare tree, watching Suho open up the tarp.

“Is it so bad to be officially acknowledged for what is already, essentially, your job?” he said.

Suho frowned as he weighed the corners of the tarp down with stones.

“I farm,” he replied. “And I fix things for the elders in the village. I protect this place because nobody else will.”

He drew a cleaver from his belt, flicking a bit of blood off of his fingers.

“Not because I’m a ‘hunter.’”

“You’d earn more money as a real hunter,” Jun suggested.

His brow twitched slightly. Money was always tight in the countryside. Getting any supplies out here was a huge inconvenience—people jumped at the chance to charge them more for the same things because it was “dangerous”.

Suho quietly pulled up the first raptor’s leg and started cutting it from its body. The limb separated like butter. His movements were skilled, experienced.

“As an official hunter, you’d pay lower taxes on the monster parts you sell too,” Jun continued.

Suho’s hands froze mid-slice. The monk chuckled lightly to himself. This kid was too realistic. He could practically see him calculating the savings in his head.

Slowly, his expression fell though. He raised his cleaver and kept butchering, blood splattering across his already bloodstained clothes.

“But I don’t care about the outside,” he said. “Everything I know and love is right here.”

“And everything you could know and could love is out there.”

Suho froze mid-cut. He eyed Jun, who gave him a knowing smile back.

The silence was broken by a loud, deep bark and the heavy THUNK of feet.

A huge, black tank of a dog rushed out from the temple and jumped onto the pile of raptor corpses. Suho shot up, dropping the leg in his hands.

“PIT!” he yelled, dashing over.

He grabbed the dog by the jaws and forcefully pried him off the juicy chunk of meat he’d gone for.

He continued to try and snap with his bloodied maw, whining at the indignity. But in the next second, more black forms ran out from around the back of the temple.

It was like a mountain’s worth of huge dogs had emerged, clamoring for meat.

Suho let out a short sigh, already knowing the melee that was to come. But instead, Jun simply clapped his hands together. The moment the cold, clear sound rang out, all of them froze in place.

Silence fell on the scene. The dogs continued to eye the raptor corpses, some letting out whimpers. But none moved.

Slowly, Suho let go of Pit’s jaws. The dog seemed to huff in indignation, but remained where he was, licking his lips.

Jun looked over at him.

“It’s your choice. Maybe school will be fun.”

Suho frowned. He looked down at the corpses, gripping the knife in his hand.

Jun smiled and sighed.

“If you can’t decide, then maybe you should ask Auntie Jang.”

⊕

Suho sat at the front of the temple—in clean clothes and hair still wet from a shower. The raptors had been butchered and stored, leaving the temple grounds empty. The army of black dogs had spread out across the mountain to munch on the entrails and bones that were left over.

From the footpath leading to the temple there was the sound of gravel grinding. Slowly, Auntie Jang emerged.

She was older than she was when she took him off of the Bureau’s hands, but still smiling just as softly. He had lived in many of the houses around the village before the temple was rebuilt and he moved in there permanently, but he’d spent the most time at hers.

She walked up to where he was and slowly took a seat beside him. As if it was natural.

“There’s the smell of blood,” she remarked calmly.

He nodded.

“You’re keeping the spoils?” she asked. “Last time Jun sold the remains to the city.”

Another quiet nod.

“Raptors today,” Suho said. “There’s enough for everyone, for a while.”

“Haha, Grandpa Oh will be happy. You know he loves raptor stew. I can already see him bragging about it to his kids. The kind of delicacy you can't afford in the city, sprouting right from our backyard.”

She glanced over at him. The sunset was bathing both of them in a dim orange, and he was watching it go down.

“Suho,” she called. “Monk Jun told me you got an offer.”

He frowned immediately.

“To become a hunter,” he replied.

“No—to go to school.”

Her tone turned more serious.

“Whatever the academy is called, it’s still a school,” she said. “A place someone your age really should have been attending already.”

Suho hesitated. Auntie Jang watched as he picked at the callouses on his palms. He always did that when he was anxious.

“If I leave, then there will be no one to protect the village anymore,” he said.

“Suho, the village will be fine.”

She smiled softly and put a wrinkled palm on top of his hand.

“I don't care about becoming a hunter, or fame, or money, or any of those things,” she said. “But I care about your education. Many of us here…”

She trailed off, glancing towards the village. They were just farmers living out in the middle of nowhere. Most hadn't gone to school either, just like Suho.

“…We want to see you grow up well. Like a regular child, for once. See the sights and the big buildings. Go out and get snacks with your friends. Waste time. Us old people, we lived here long before you and Jun moved in. We’ll make do just fine alone.”

He glanced over, meeting her eyes. Her crow’s feet crinkled at the corners.

“If you can go to school, Suho,” she said. “I think you should.”

He was quiet, mulling it over. Sitting beside her, it was obvious to see that he was no longer the little kid that had been brought here out of the blue, that chilly day in winter. He was much taller than all of the other villagers now. In a few years he’d be an adult. He couldn't stay here forever, tending to their crops and doing temple chores. It was about time to fly the coop. And they had all been waiting to see what happened—to see what kind of amazing young man he’d grow to become, once he was out in the world.

Suho didn't know this. But he knew that they cared.

He turned his hand over and squeezed Auntie Jang’s.

“Okay,” he replied. “I will think about it.”

She smiled softly. She knew his language. Those short sentences and curt words. And ‘thinking about it’ meant that he’d give it a shot.

“Thank you for humoring this old lady,” she said. “We all wish you the best, Suho.”