Creator’s Favoritism

Finding a coin laundromat in the middle of Yeouido’s concrete jungle was no easy task. 

Failing to locate one, I ended up scrubbing my clothes in the basement restroom of the nearest building—a fitting punishment.

Though I had spilled the coffee, asking Kang Chagyeong to wash them felt wrong. So I left him standing awkwardly outside the women’s restroom while I scrubbed at the stains. Five minutes had passed.

[SYSTEM: Your abnormal status has improved.]

[SYSTEM: A buff has been applied due to the improvement in your abnormal status.]

The clear sound and sudden appearance of the message made me instinctively look around. When I cautiously activated my status window, several updates appeared.

Chronic lack of affection: Die if you don’t become the favorite character of the author of .

Affection Ranking: 31st (↑)

Moments ago, I had been a nameless extra. Seeing an actual rank, however low, was at least some relief.

As I examined the message window more closely, a new item labeled “buff” caught my attention.

[Buff]

Tenacious Character: Mental strength increased by 100%.

(Duration: 1 hour)

I frowned. A pretty useless buff, to be honest.

One hour didn’t seem like much either, but I tried to console myself.

‘At least I have a ranking now.’

The world isn’t fair.

I repeated that thought as I continued hand-washing the vest of the chosen protagonist of this world.

「Tito focuses intently on adding a subtle blush to Kang Chagyeong’s cheeks as he stands awkwardly outside the restroom.」

At least Kang Chagyeong was waiting patiently. It gave me time to think about how to show up more in the webtoon Tito was drawing.

To become more than just a side character, I needed to stand out—enough to catch the attention of tens of thousands of readers. 

As these thoughts circled my mind, I glanced up at my reflection in the grimy mirror.

In terms of appearance, I was at least tall—over 170 cm. My grades were good, but not enough to vie for first or second place in school.

Socially? Average. I’d been vice class president a few times, nothing more. There wasn’t anything particularly outstanding about me.

If I were in a webtoon, I’d be the kind of character whose presence was barely noticeable, ambiguous at best.

The devil’s smug, pathetic expression came to mind—You’re not even fit to be an extra, he’d sneered. The memory left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I knew from reading plenty of webtoons what kinds of characters tended to be popular. But actually becoming one? That was a different story.

In Crash Course Hunter Education, the hunters were the stars. Should I become a hunter, then?

The thought slowed my hands as I scrubbed the wet clothes.

There was one essential condition for becoming a hunter: you had to face death when a gate opened.

Only a tiny fraction of those caught in a gate—those who died in the chaos—awakened as hunters. 

No one knew why some awakened and others didn’t, and if anyone did, the secret wasn’t shared with the public.

Typically, people awakened after being killed by monsters that came through a gate. But there were outliers—people who awakened after being hit by a car while fleeing monsters, for example.

Since so little information was made public, only wild theories circulated.

That’s why you didn’t see aspiring hunters. People said hunters were chosen by the heavens.

Who would have guessed “heaven” was a webtoon artist living alone in Seoul?

I couldn’t help but let out a soulless smile as I stared at myself in the mirror.

“Um… I’ll just go. Can I get my clothes back?”

Kang Chagyeong’s muffled voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. Great, just what I needed. 

I took a deep breath, glaring down at the soaking-wet vest in my hands.

Still, I had secured decent screen time for the prologue. My name had been revealed, and Tito seemed set on writing me as a supporting character.

I stared into my own eyes reflected in the mirror. ‘Did I really need to become a hunter?’ The question suddenly hit me.

It was a problem that could wait until after Kang Chagyeong awakened—he was still just a civilian, after all.

Besides, what if I tried to become a hunter and ended up dying without awakening? Now that would be the most awkward situation possible.

That devil might have planned this all along—deceiving me, snatching away my soul with some cunning scheme.

‘The chances of not awakening are higher, so dying like that doesn’t even make sense,’ I thought, trying to convince myself.

I fixed my gaze on the water swirling down the drain.

“I must survive at all costs…”

I muttered quietly, gripping the sides of the sink with both hands.

-Bang!

A flash caught my eye. Startled, I turned around just in time to see a rectangle of light fading rapidly behind me.

Did he just draw that?

「“Just need to drop the hints at the right time,” Tito muttered, moving his tablet pen. One shelf of his bookcase was packed with books on writing techniques.」

This crazy bastard was planting death flags as he pleased.

A cold chill spread through me. The next narration box that appeared was even more outrageous:

「While drawing Maeng Sun-woo’s back as he mutters in the mirror, Tito recalls a dramatist’s theory: if you introduce a gun in a novel, you must fire it.」

My eyes widened as I read the text. Tito was obsessed with foreshadowing.

My mind was made up. If I got caught in a gate with Kang Chagyeong, I had a bad feeling that only he would survive while I’d become a throwaway death—a mere catalyst for his awakening.

Hell no. 

I wasn’t going to just be some tragic plot point. The best move now was to return his uniform, distance myself, and avoid getting sucked into his storyline.

I didn’t even bother wringing out the soaked vest. I had to get out of here first. Think later.

-Beep-!

Just as I was about to take a step, the system notification blared in my ears, sharp and shrill like a warning siren.

[SYSTEM: A containment-type gate has opened at Seunghwa Building, Yeouido-dong, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul. 59 minutes 59 seconds until containment release.]

My expression, staring dumbfounded at the system message, must have been downright idiotic.

The building’s name, which I’d seen when entering, was “Seunghwa Building.”

Suddenly, an impossibly loud siren blared from my phone speaker, followed by a rapid series of disaster safety texts:

[Ministry of Public Safety and Security] Gate occurrence in Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul. Stop moving and evacuate immediately to an air-raid shelter or nearby military base.

[Yeongdeungpo-gu Office] Gate occurrence in Yeouido-dong. Minimize encounters with monsters and evacuate to air-raid shelters.

[Yeongdeungpo-gu Office] Locations of air-raid shelters in Yeongdeungpo-gu…

[Gate Disaster Response Headquarters] Are you in the gate area? Please confirm your survival status and exact location…

As soon as I saw the message from the Gate Disaster Response Headquarters, an icon at the top of my phone indicated that all communication had been cut off.

[“This is not a drill. A gate disaster has been detected. Please evacuate to the nearest shelter. This is not a…”]

The voice of an automated announcement echoed somewhere outside, but it cut off abruptly, like someone had flipped a switch.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, it was replaced by fearful murmurs and the chaotic sounds of hurried footsteps.

With my ear pressed to the bathroom door, I listened closely, tense with anxiety. Occasional screams broke through the noise. 

It was too dangerous to go out without knowing what was happening.

Meanwhile, my vision slowly tinged red. 

I remembered from school that the air inside a gate always shifted to a red hue, like a filter being applied to reality.

My heart pounded wildly. The fear of a monster crashing through the door made my pulse race even more.

There was no sign of Kang Chagyeong.

Instead, I heard a sickening crackling sound, like dry bones being crushed together—grating and constant.

The air around me shimmered violently, distorting like heat haze rising from asphalt in the summer. The gate was opening.

To Tito, this might have been thrilling, but to me, the gate was nothing less than a catastrophe.

Gates were unpredictable natural disasters, ripping through human civilization like earthquakes or tsunamis. 

They were merciless.

No invention, no weapon humanity had ever created, could stop the monsters that came through gates. Only awakened hunters could kill them.

I rolled up Kang Chagyeong’s soaked school uniform vest and shoved it into my coat pocket. Tito was determined to make the death flag he planted for me a reality.

“Ah… really…”

And of all things, it had to be a containment-type gate, the kind that only opens once a year. Unlike regular gates, containment gates locked everyone inside until either all the monsters died or all the people did.

There was the option to try and hold out until the containment was lifted, but surviving that long was nearly impossible for civilians.

Without a hunter, we were as good as dead.

“Aaaagh-!!”

Outside, I could hear the continuous screams of people being torn apart.

Hunters wouldn’t arrive until everyone was dead. The containment would only be lifted after every last person—including me and Kang Chagyeong—had died.

Kang Chagyeong, Tito’s protagonist, would probably awaken as a hunter. But me? I wasn’t so sure.

In this truly desperate situation, I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t care about devils or creators. I just wanted to hide in this bathroom forever.

My grandmother’s face suddenly came to mind, and tears pricked my eyes.

‘…Hey. Crying won’t fix anything.’

I muttered to myself, gripping the sink tightly with both hands, teeth clenched.

Whether it led to ruin or salvation, I had to do something. If I were Tito, I wouldn’t awaken a character who hid in a bathroom as a hunter.

Suddenly, the noise beyond the door stopped. It had become eerily quiet.

Sweat gathered on my palms as I slowly turned the bathroom doorknob.