Though the examinees remained oblivious, the truth lingered beneath their feet—unseen, and insidious.
Each room of the Dreamweaver Hotel, which stood as the very foundation of this gate, housed a monster hidden in its depths.
They belonged to the nightmare lineage—phantoms that emerged not into the real world, but into the mind’s landscape.
These creatures concealed themselves within the paintings that hung in every room, emerging only between 10 PM and 6 AM.
Any guest who fell asleep during those hours would become prey.
“Are all the examinees in their rooms?”
“We’ve placed alarm spells in the hallways. If anyone steps outside, we’ll know immediately.”
“I’m checking through the screen-eye now. So far, nothing.”
“The assistant supervisors stationed on each floor have reported the same.”
“They must have stuffed themselves at the banquet. I imagine they’re all deep in sleep.”
“Yes, dreaming away by now.”
What the examinees didn’t know was that the true nature of the fourth practical exam was to exterminate these monsters hidden in their rooms.
More precisely, to defeat them within the landscape of their own minds.
To guide them into this state, the examiners had spiked the banquet food with a mild sedative—just enough to dull the senses, but not enough to be obvious. Yet over time, the compound would build up, making it dangerously addictive.
The supervisors had gone further. With delicious food, cheerful music, and addictive games, they had chipped away at the examinees’ vigilance—loosening their focus, dulling their instincts, coaxing them into a vulnerable state.
All of it, simply to give the monsters room to slip into their dreams.
“But… is this really okay? To administer a test like this without telling them anything?”
“I feel the same.”
“But didn’t they all agree to it when they signed the waiver? It said clearly: The test may not be fully explained. Geumgang Academy takes no responsibility for any incident arising during the exam. The risk is entirely your own.”
“Who actually reads all that?”
“They should. That’s a contract stating they accept responsibility for their own lives. Signing that without thinking—what are they even doing?”
“He’s right. If you want to be a Hunter, you have to be prepared to die. That’s part of the test.”
“Still… there will definitely be objections.”
“Some might object. But did we really give them no clues? I feel like we left enough breadcrumbs.”
“How many do you think actually caught on?”
“Only one examinee from Refined Southern River seemed to suspect something.”
“And we even told them a lie—that spending one night in the hotel means passing the exam.”
“That part… yeah, that lie’s going to get us.”
The nature of the fourth practical exam was bound to stir controversy if exposed to the outside world.
Some examiners already expressed unease.
Then the Chief Supervisor spoke.
“When did we lie?”
“…”
“Spending one night in the hotel does mean you pass. We just didn’t mention the condition—that you have to survive the night. Now enough of this chatter. Focus on the test. You’re the ones who’ll cause controversy at this rate.”
“Yes, sir!”
This was a test of willpower.
Because it took place inside the examinees’ own mental landscapes, the role of the examiners was limited—but also more critical than ever.
The Chief Supervisor reminded them of their duty.
“The creatures that enter a dream show the person their worst nightmares, shattering their minds and taking over their bodies. You all patrol your assigned zones and pull out anyone who’s fallen victim.”
“Yes, understood!”
Even if the Academy denied responsibility for deaths, the supervisors would do their best to save who they could.
From now until 6 AM.
The Chief Supervisor and all the examiners would stay awake, watching over the examinees.
It would be a long, harrowing night—for both the students and their watchers.
Once the examiners were dismissed, the Chief Supervisor murmured to himself in frustration.
“Why would the Chairwoman design a test like this…”
He too had doubts.
There were plenty of other ways to assess mental fortitude.
There was no need for this.
The difficulty was simply too high.
It felt like…
As if this test is preparing them for something even worse to come.
A ridiculous thought.
And yet, it was hard to dismiss when the person behind the test was none other than So Hye-yul—the Witch of Stars and Chairwoman of Geumgang Academy.
The Chief Supervisor fell silent, lost in thought.
They were closing in.
Not just Yeon-ha-neul, but dozens of her—no, hundreds—witches of calamity, flooding toward me from every direction.
Whoosh!
Whip!
“Ugh!”
Even from above.
The sound of rain masked their descent, and I barely avoided the strike in time.
That’s when more of her pounced from nearby.
There’s no end to this…
Their attacks were relentless, no time to breathe, no moment of reprieve.
I blocked, deflected, and dodged—my mind in disarray.
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
…
They multiplied again.
From nowhere, more versions of her emerged, slowly surrounding me in a tightening circle.
Whether to cut off my escape or to take turns fighting me, I couldn’t tell.
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“…Stop calling me.”
They multiplied again.
Now, the space was saturated with them. Every inch filled.
“Gyeon-woo.”
With soaked black hair clinging to their cheeks, they stared with glowing red eyes.
Hundreds. Thousands. Maybe infinite. All their gazes fell upon me at once.
Then, in their hands—bows appeared.
What kind of nightmare is this…
They drew their flaming arrows, every string pulled taut and aimed at me.
This couldn’t possibly be real.
Though it is a dream.
But that didn’t make it safe.
Pain here might carry over into reality. Death here might be death for real.
Fwip!
…
Flaming arrows whistled through the air.
I had to dodge.
But there was nowhere left to go.
They were everywhere.
So, I had to block.
Yet with my current strength, I couldn’t possibly block arrows coming from all directions.
If only this was reality…
Whoooosh!
No. I can do it.
This was my dream.
A world crafted from my subconscious.
What I imagined here could become real.
Wooooosh!
Just like magic becomes real when the mind believes it can be—my belief shaped reality here.
With conviction, I spun in place.
My indigo blade screamed.
The wind from its arc roared into a storm, a cyclone fierce enough to tear through the black sky and swallow the rain into a typhoon.
“…So it actually works.”
In a game, this would’ve been impossible.
The flaming arrows slammed into the typhoon’s wall and vanished.
Yeon-ha-neul’s clones disappeared into the winds as well.
Standing in the eye of the storm, I exhaled in relief.
But I can’t stay here forever.
It was only a moment’s reprieve.
Nothing had really changed.
I had to find and kill the monster hiding in this dream—somewhere among these endless copies of her.
It was hunting me as surely as I was hunting it.
If I was right—
It’s hiding among the Ha-neuls, waiting for its chance. …Calling them “the Ha-neuls” sounds weird, though.
But that was the likeliest case.
Only then could it strike without warning.
The problem was that there were too many of her—splitting endlessly—making it impossible to pinpoint.
Killing each one to find it… not happening.
Even if this was just a dream, I couldn’t bring myself to kill her.
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
That was why I’d been fighting with the indigo blade turned to its blunt edge this entire time.
Call it foolish, but I couldn’t help it.
Even if I did kill one, they’d just multiply again. Even if I used wide-area attacks… if just one survives, she’ll multiply again. Killing them is inefficient.
I was a coward.
So I’d solve this problem the coward’s way.
There was a method.
I’ll use my danger-evasion instinct.
A strange thing.
My gift, which usually activated automatically in danger, only triggered occasionally here—even with her attacking from all sides.
Even when I knew I was in danger, my gift hadn’t responded.
Which meant…
My danger sense only activates when something can actually hurt me here.
Just like I could distinguish illusion from reality in the second exam.
The fact that it did trigger once or twice proved there was a real threat among them.
And that threat could only be the monster.
So in conclusion…
The one Ha-neul that triggers my evasion instinct… that’s the monster.
I was sure of it.
As long as I kept alert for my gift activating, I could find the monster without killing any of her.
It would take time—too many of her, after all.
But no. I’ve got an idea.
Suddenly, a new thought sparked in my mind.
If this worked the way I imagined it…
I might be able to save some time.
Whoooosh…
With that thought, I stepped out of the storm—out from the heart of the typhoon I had conjured.
Outside, more of her awaited me than ever before.
More Yeon-ha-neuls.
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon…”
“Hey. Yeon-ha-neul.”
…
These weren’t the Yeon-ha-neul I knew.
Their hair was dyed jet black.
Their skin was sun-kissed, as if burned by weeks under a harsh sun.
And to those versions of her, there was something I’d always wanted to say.
I opened my mouth.
“Isn’t this just too much?”
“…?”
“You always told me not to dye my hair. You said not to tan. And yet here you are—dyed, tanned. Isn’t that the very hypocrisy you’re always accusing me of?”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon-woo.”
“Gyeon…”
“Well, if you can do it, so can I.”
“…What?”
“…What?”
“…What?”
“…?”
“I’m gonna dye my hair. Gonna tan my skin too.”
This was my dream.
And in my dream, everything was possible.
I ran a hand through my hair.
I couldn’t see it, not directly—but I could feel it. The color shifting. Brightening.
Blazing gold.
Their eyes widened.
And then—my skin.
“No.”
“Don’t.”
“Gyeon-woo, please.”
“Keep it black.”
“Protect the natural look.”
“Stop, don’t do it.”
“I don’t care. I’m doing it.”
This was my dream.
This was my body.
Unless someone was prepared to take responsibility for my life, they had no right to interfere.
And since I was at it—
I got a piercing.
Then inked my arm.
When I rolled up my sleeve, a mischievous-looking rabbit grinned back at me from my tanned skin.
“No… please…”
“Gyeon-woo…”
“Hrk…”
“Come back.”
“Don’t do this.”
“What, only you get to go dark mode? I’m going dark mode too.”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
“Please, just stop…”
“Think of your mother.”
“Then next—let’s try some muscles…”
“No!”
“We protest!”
“We object!”
“Cease!”
“…Damn.”
Even in my own dream, I wasn’t allowed to do what I wanted.
As they swarmed toward me, my fantasy of becoming a burly, muscle-bound man had to be shelved.
But there was one thing I wouldn’t give up.
So I imagined.
And imagination bent to will.
And will became reality.
“Ha-neul.”
“This is my dream.”
“Splitting apart? That’s not just your trick.”
“You thought you were the only one who could multiply?”
“Well guess what—I can split too.”
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six…
I multiplied. Rapidly. Exponentially.
“…!”
For the first time, I saw something shift in their expressions.
A flicker of panic. A crack in the illusion.
I smiled—slowly, deliberately.
“Now the numbers feel fair.”
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