Lying face down for hours was starting to take its toll.
Chae Eun-sol stirred as stiffness crept across her limbs. Her consciousness slowly rose to the surface.
When she opened her eyes, everything was black. No shapes. No sounds. Nothing at all.
Nothingness. A complete void.
Had the world ended?
She had always known a day like this might come. Everything that begins eventually ends. Birth leads inevitably to death. The fall of the world would hardly be a surprise.
There is no such thing as forever. Immortality doesn’t exist. There is only the cycle.
A drop of water becomes a cloud, turns into rain, falls to earth, flows through rivers, and returns to the sky.
The living die, become earth, and from the earth, life is born again.
Everything returns. Everything renews.
Even the world itself can’t escape the law of rise and fall, of flourishing and fading.
So… I must be dead.
That was the only explanation that made sense. Her soul must be in the middle of dissolving into the cycle.
She should have already forgotten everything and become part of the great flow. But here she was, still aware, still thinking. It was strange.
Or maybe she was simply in the middle of forgetting.
There was something on the edge of understanding, just out of reach. She almost regretted it. Once she reincarnated, all of this would be gone.
It couldn’t be helped. It was the nature of things. The cycle shouldn’t be resisted.
Still, if there was one thing she could wish for…
In my next life, I want to be a pampered pig, raised in a wealthy household.
She had no desire to be human again. Thinking was bothersome. Living was exhausting.
She wanted to eat when she was hungry, sleep when she was tired, relieve herself when she needed to, and do it all without thinking.
But she didn’t want to live in the wild either. Life out there was too harsh.
What she really wanted was to be someone’s cherished pet fed, bathed, kept warm, dressed in tiny outfits, taken to the vet, and cleaned up after.
The pig sounded perfect. Better to be a content pig than a hungry philosopher.
She didn’t care if she was male or female. She’d be neutered anyway. It would hurt like hell, but if it meant she could live a happy life, it was worth it.
And as a pet pig, she probably wouldn’t get eaten.
Even if her owner changed their mind one day and decided to cook her, that was fine too.
You can eat me. Just enjoy it.
That, too, was part of nature’s design. The cycle.
She didn’t exactly hope for that outcome, but she would accept it.
That peaceful train of thought ended abruptly.
“…Ah.”
Chae Eun-sol finally realised she was wearing a sleep mask. She also had earplugs in.
She threw off the blanket she’d draped over her head, pulled out the earplugs, and took off the mask.
Sight and sound returned in an instant.
She was in a lecture hall.
Her instructor, standing at the front, gave her a big grin.
“Sleep well, Eun-sol?”
She didn’t answer.
“I was just about to wake you. Good timing. Now get up and write your will.”
“…My will?”
“Yes, your will.”
She blinked, trying to process it. Not a single word of the lesson had reached her.
The student next to her, sponsored by the Cycle Transport Guild, pointed at her desk.
There was a blank sheet of paper waiting there.
“I’m not grading this as an assignment,” the instructor said. “But until it’s done, no one’s leaving.”
To Chae Eun-sol, his tone felt unnecessarily smug. Her brow twitched faintly.
With no other choice, she reached for her bag.
Except… she hadn’t brought her pencil case.
All she had packed were snacks and sleeping aids.
“Ah.”
“…Want to borrow mine?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The girl who often looked after her kindly handed over a pen.
Chae Eun-sol took it and stared down at the page.
…
Nothing came to mind. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t even want to try.
Instead, she opened a sausage snack, took a bite, and frowned.
I don’t have anything to say to anyone.
No lingering regrets. No emotional attachments. No unfinished business.
And without any of that, there was no room for remorse.
She lived the way the wind blew, the way water flowed. Gently. Passively.
If she died, she died. Death didn’t scare her. It was simply the beginning of something else.
She had no reason to fight it. She would accept it as part of nature, because she was part of nature too.
Someone like her had nothing to say in a will.
So… let’s not write one.
She folded the blank page neatly and began slipping it into an envelope.
Then her instructor’s voice rang out again.
“Just so we’re clear, I better not see any blank pages.”
She paused.
“Every year, there’s always some smartass who turns in an empty sheet. Some kid who thinks they’re too special to die. I check the moment it’s handed in, so don’t try it.”
She sighed.
“If anyone hands in a blank page, it’s an automatic point deduction. And they’ll rewrite it, a minimum of five pages. Pages, not lines. Take this seriously. Show some effort.”
It felt like he was talking directly to her.
Reluctantly, she unfolded the paper again.
What do I even write…
With a heavy heart, she decided to pad the page with cliché lines.
But just writing platitudes wouldn’t be enough.
I want chicken. I want to lie down.
To make it sound sincere, she started jotting down her honest desires.
Grilled pork belly, soft blankets, things that made her happy.
She closed with a final, meaningful sentence.
In my next life, I want to live as a sweet, pampered house pig under a wealthy owner.
She handed in the will immediately.
The instructor read it, then let out a laugh.
“Do it again.”
“….”
“No use giving me that look. I’m serious. Do it again.”
“…Why?”
Her green eyes quivered. Her voice sounded betrayed.
That day, while everyone else left the classroom, Chae Eun-sol stayed behind, receiving her instructor’s pointed edits.
“Just… what?”
“…I said I hope you live alone for the rest of your life.”
…
Yeon-ha-neul kept sneaking glances at me.
I was too stunned to even respond at first.
It took me a few seconds to pull myself together.
“…Ha-neul.”
“Yeah…?”
“Do you hate me that much?”
“Huh?”
“Why would you curse me like that…? If you’ve been holding a grudge all this time, you should’ve just said something. We’re close, aren’t we? Why keep it bottled up?”
“What? No! How is that a curse?”
“Then what else is it, if not a curse, to say you hope I live alone forever? Is that your idea of a blessing?”
“…”
“It’s a curse, isn’t it?”
“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Then what did you mean?”
“…”
Flustered, Yeon-ha-neul opened and closed her mouth without saying anything.
Her face had turned bright red.
I didn’t let up. I waited, silently, for her to answer.
Eventually—
With her head hanging low and her voice barely audible, she mumbled something. Her hair, the color of a soft twilight sky, fell forward and hid her face.
“Then… I’ll live alone too… You should write that in your will too…”
…A self-inflicted curse?
Was this her idea of fairness, trying to even it out by both of us being doomed?
I laughed despite myself. The flow of conversation made no sense.
“Alright, I’ll write my own curse too. Or maybe I should just follow you into the afterlife. A romantic double death, what do you think?”
“Huh? Really? You’d do that? That’s actually kind of tragic… but also beautiful in a way. I think dying together, narratively speaking, isn’t such a bad ending. From a story structure perspective, it has its merits…”
“…”
Why was she taking this so seriously?
Yeon-ha-neul’s red eyes sparkled.
And just like that, I was speechless again.
“So… what did you write in yours?”
“Let me see it.”
She was folding her will carefully, sealing it in an envelope like she had sworn never to reveal it.
Even as she asked, her expression said she didn’t plan to show hers anytime soon.
Still, I handed mine over without hesitation.
Her eyes widened, round like a rabbit’s.
“You’re okay with me reading it?”
“There’s nothing in there I wouldn’t want someone else to see.”
“Hmm… I guess that’s true. It feels a bit formal, though?”
“Exactly.”
She had seen right through it.
It wasn’t written from the heart. That much was clear to me, too.
It was stiff. Hollow. Mechanical. Lacking in any real emotion.
She nodded gently, confirming the same impression.
“Your feelings feel… held back. What if you tried to be a little more honest? Don’t filter it.”
“It’s harder than it sounds. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. What else is there for me to say?”
“Well… besides apologising to your family or thanking them for raising you, isn’t there anything else? Something more personal?”
“More personal…”
“Yes. Open up a bit more. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Writing a will should be about revealing your true thoughts. If you’re not even a little embarrassed, maybe you haven’t really written anything honest yet.”
“…Fair point. So you’re saying I should write like I’m going through an emo phase?”
“No! That’s not what I meant…”
“I’m joking.”
Yeon-ha-neul puffed out her cheeks and pouted.
I chuckled softly at her expression and reached over to pull her sealed will toward me.
She had a point.
Maybe it was time I tried being a bit more honest with myself.
Something’s… coming to me.
I picked up my pen.
This time, I didn’t spend long thinking. Before my thoughts could even settle, my hand began to move.
The writing was clumsy. The flow was off.
But that was okay.
Even if the words didn’t make perfect sense, they were mine. And there was time to revise later.
Right now, I just need to let it all out.
“What are you writing?”
“…Too embarrassing to say.”
“Come on. Just a little?”
“…That I was happy, being with you all. With you, too, Ha-neul.”
“Oh… Yeah. Me too.”
“Then make sure you write that in your will.”
The Academy didn’t ask students to write wills just to make them reflect on death.
There was a deeper purpose.
To make them let go of the comfort of everyday life they’d taken for granted.
To prepare them to live more fully from this point on.
Life was long and short at the same time.
Especially for Hunters.
A long life wasn’t something they could expect—it was a reward, granted only to the strongest who survived.
Most didn’t.
Many died before living even half the years of an ordinary person.
So each moment mattered.
They needed to live in a way that left no regrets behind.
Instructor Hong Ye-na hoped the students understood this as they wrote.
Let’s see how they turned out.
A week passed.
On Monday, during a break between classes, she finally sat down to read through the students’ submissions.
“As you know, Instructor No-eul, this is—”
“Yes, I know. These are private, so I won’t say a word. I don’t even have many friends, and I’m very tight-lipped!”
“…Alright then.”
She had told them to write sincerely. To treat this as something important.
But she hadn’t really planned to read through them all in detail.
She felt it would be intrusive.
These were the students’ deepest thoughts, sometimes even their secrets. To pry into that just because she was their instructor seemed… wrong.
Still, just in case, she reminded Yoo No-eul of her personal principle.
Then, together, they began to open the wills.
How cute. I was like this once, too.
Most of the wills were similar.
“I’m sorry, I’m leaving first. Thank you for raising me. I love you.”
Words written to those they imagined would mourn them.
But here and there, she found something different.
Wills with a heavier tone.
These ones… I should keep an eye on.
“I’m coming to find you. I wanted to kill more of them. I don’t want to die. Did I do the right thing?”
These came from students with difficult upbringings, broken homes, or deep hatred toward monsters.
Reading them, Hong Ye-na felt a heavy weight press against her chest.
The emotions were raw. Real. Unfiltered.
She made a mental note to keep watch over those students more closely.
Then she picked up another envelope.
Next is… Gyeon-woo’s.
Do-gyeon-woo’s name was written neatly across the front.
She smiled faintly.
She opened it, hoping that this time, he had written with sincerity.
As her eyes moved down the page, she let out a small laugh.
“See? He could’ve written like this from the start.”
Will
Do Gyeon-woo
Class 1-17, Student No. 11
Combat Swordsmanship Division
To everyone who’s ever cared about me,
I lived without regrets.
Actually, I don’t know for sure.
By the time it happens, I might realize there were things I hadn’t thought of.
Still, I hope that I leave this world having lived without regrets.
[…]
I don’t know how many people will read this, or who will.
But to all of you—I’m sorry. And thank you for mourning me.
I’m sorry.
And thank you.
[…]
But please, don’t be sad because of me.
It might be selfish of me, but I’d rather you send me off with a smile.
That way, I can leave peacefully.
[…]
Mom, Dad, I was truly happy to live this life as your son.
I was lucky.
It made me happy just to be your child.
If I get to be born again,
I’d want to be your son again.
Next time, I promise I’ll listen better.
[…]
Funny how writing all this makes me feel a bit of regret after all.
Even so, I had a good life.
[…]
P.S.
Tell Ha-neul, I hope she lives alone forever.
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