The Chick Class Hunter is Being Filial

“So, the Management Team will be organizing a special entrance exam prep class and finals crash course to prevent immediate rejections. Let’s all give a round of applause!”
Guru shot her hand into the air.

“Gwuu gonna be five next yeaw!”
Seol Yeojin smiled warmly at Guru.
“Guru Hunter will be starting the preschool program a year early.”

“Ooooh!”
In the U.S., preschool refers to an optional early education course before kindergarten, but in Korea, where compulsory education starts with elementary school, the preschool program operates for children aged six and above.
With an excellent teaching staff, magical aptitude training included in the curriculum, and extra points toward elementary school entrance exams, the applicant lines stretched around the block.

“Serhi Hunter doesn’t have academic records, so he’ll need to apply through a different track.”
She pulled out a brochure and pointed out several admission pathways.
“…Sixty-five percent practical magic handling test, ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) thirty percent written entrance exam, and five percent interview.”

Since Gidan was S-Rank, his practical test scores were overwhelmingly high, and he entered through a special track.
Serhi squinted at the tiny letters Yeojin pointed to, face clearly saying I don’t get any of this.
Yeojin softly chuckled, watching Serhi’s completely lost expression.

“Today, we’ll just do a quick placement test by subject to see your basic skill levels.”
Neither Serhi nor Guru was expected to be fluent in Korean, so they handed over an elementary school-level test sheet.
“It’s easy. Just fill in the blanks.”

“Okaay.”
Weawwy easy, huh…
Guru filled in the words and sentences based on the pictures.

Meanwhile, Yeojin pulled out more files, glancing up.
“Dani, where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”
Ack.
Gidan, quietly creeping away, forced a clumsy smile.

“Uh… bathroom?”
“You need to finish this first.”
“….”

Gidan accepted the elementary school first-grade finals prep sheet with a gloomy face.
He did have excuses for his disaster of a 9th percentile midterm score.
Up through middle school, he was focused entirely on baseball and hadn’t touched books. After that, he awakened as a Hunter and still never studied.

But Yeojin, despite him being an S-Rank Hunter, tore into him about his brain being an empty tin can.
“Sit. Here.”
With a depressed look, Gidan grabbed a mechanical pencil.

Yeojin glanced at him solving problems and casually struck up a conversation.
“Dani, I attended all the admissions briefings this year. They say there’s a crazy amount of magical aptitude applicants lately. Heard anything?”
“Huh? No, not really.”

She flipped through the prep documents, muttering to herself.
“This is the first time applicant numbers have been this high. Makes next year’s entrance exam look brutal.”
Hmph… Gidan poked his chin with the pencil eraser.

“I haven’t heard much. I don’t go to school often.”
“Wow, such a flex, huh?”
“…Hehe!”

Yeojin smacked Gidan lightly on the head and turned to Serhi and Guru.
“When I say lots of applicants, you know what that means? You all need to work harder. Got it?”
“….”

“Yees!”
“Our cute little Guru Hunter always answers so politely and sweetly. You’ll ace that interview, right?”
Yeojin stroked Guru’s hair and shot Serhi a look that screamed your turn to say you’ll work hard.

But—
“I don’t need to go to school.”
Serhi suddenly dropped a verbal bomb.

Gasp! Guru sucked in her breath, and Gidan subtly side-eyed Yeojin’s reaction.
“Why the hell would I even need to go to school?”
Hmph… Yeojin leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“See that, Dani? That was you, exactly one year ago.”
“Aw, Nuna… stop bringing up my dark past…”
Gidan ducked his head into his anorak hoodie like a shrinking turtle, mumbling miserably.

It was the same situation Gidan had gone through when he first joined Hyeonak, all cocky and fearless.
Guru remembered when she insisted on skipping kindergarten to be a Hunter.
Apparently, everyone went through this phase.

Even now, Guru wasn’t entirely sure why kindergarten was necessary for being a Hunter.
Yeojin scanned Serhi up and down with a crooked grin.
“Serhi, you think you’re that special?”

“If you don’t care if someone gets hurt, I can show you.”
Serhi’s indifferent tone made his unwillingness clear.
Gidan sighed.

Guru tugged Gidan’s hand with a worried look, and he smiled, patting her head.
“Don’t worry. Nobody beats Yeojin Nuna.”
His voice carried the weight of experience.

Did Oppaw lose to her too?
Yeojin nodded and asked cheerfully.
“Alright then. Let’s check. You’re saying you can live in Korea independently, right? Did you register as an Awakened here?”

“Ah, ni.”
“No [Hunter License]. Can you file dungeon raid reports? Ever written an incident report?”
“….”

“Didn’t think so. How’s your Korean? If you came from abroad, Korean Language Proficiency Test is mandatory. You ever take it?”
“…Uh.”
“Didn’t think so. How many people do you know here? Any support system?”

“…I mean, even without that—”
“So none. How’s your understanding of Korean culture? You planning to act like this when contacting seniors?”
“….”

“Didn’t think so. Tax filings? Can you coordinate with public offices in emergencies?”
“W-What’s… that…”
“Exactly. You can’t.”

Yeojin listed off her points with a pleasant smile.
“For minors, there are mandatory procedures and routes to become functioning members of society. School offers the most optimized environment for that education. Especially for Awakened minors, it’s the best possible support system.”

Serhi looked utterly drained, soul leaving his body.
Gidan gave a knowing, bitter smile.
Meanwhile, Guru’s eyes sparkled.

“You understand? That means you’ll work hard, right? Let’s all do a ‘Fighting!’ together!”
“Hai-ting!”
“…Fighting…”

Guru grabbed Serhi’s hand and raised it with her own.
Yeojin giggled, pinching Guru’s cheek softly.
 

****
Inside a narrow room of a rundown apartment—
A woman with a pale face peered into a fish tank. Dozens of colorful goldfish swam freely inside.

Meanwhile, an old rotary phone played a recorded message.
— …Enclosed is the address of Miral Orphanage, the child’s last known location.
The woman sat down at a mahjong table.

Three years had passed since she started taking requests after arriving in Korea.
Her superior information network had quietly spread, leading to countless requests from even celebrities…
But even then, she never expected to get a request from On Jurim.

She wasn’t particularly proud, but given her work stayed in the shadows, she chose jobs carefully.
Normally, she’d have taken her time deciding whether to accept—but the moment she learned the client was On Jurim, she agreed immediately.
On the table sat a photo of a mixed-race girl with platinum blonde hair, about four years old, smiling brightly, along with a note reading Han Guru.

Han Guru…
Chuen’s lips curled slightly as she gazed at the smiling child, before her face returned to its usual blank expression.
[Activating skill: ‘Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts.’]

— Allows borrowing the power of stored souls.
Suddenly, every fish in the tank flipped belly-up, floating to the surface.
The souls escaped the fish, glowing as they swirled around Chuen, sniffing the hair in the photo and inspecting the note.

Chuen tapped the note lightly.
“Find the owner of this note.”
The glowing souls scattered in every direction like falling sparks.

But at that same moment—
Brrrrr—
The room began to vibrate. The table shook, and the note fell to the floor.

“….”
Chuen opened her eyes slowly.
The souls were circling, unable to escape the apartment.

Something… was blocking the tracking.
Her power was based on souls.
And only souls could interfere with souls.

Meaning…
Already dead…?
A gust of wind whispered in her ear.

After hearing its message, Chuen nodded calmly.
“Got it. I’ll leave it be. Chasing after a soul’s not worth it.”
Chuen flipped open her old, outdated cell phone.

She hesitated for a second, then typed out a message to the client:
The one who wrote the note is already dead. Unable to proceed with the request.