Solo Leveling: Rise of the 10th Hunter Part 1

You sink back into the armchair, your shoulders settling effortlessly against the cool, abyssal draft radiating from Jinwoo's frame. At the kitchenette counter, porcelain clinks with aggrieved, heavy-handed clumsiness as Thomas Andre scowls over an electric kettle, his gilded chains rattling with every forced motion under Jinwoo's quiet, unblinking surveillance. Across the simulation boundary, Baek Yoon-ho's gold beast eyes dim as he drops the fourth crimson core onto the rim, breathing hard through his teeth as the overhead display flashes his official time: 00:06.42. The compound air is thick with scorched ozone and the heatwave pressing against the reinforced glass, but Jinwoo's shadow drapes cold and motionless over your armrest, daring anyone in the room to question who owns the floor.

Yoo Jinho: "Zero six point four two seconds! Baek Yoon-ho tears through the lane, but Hyung-nim's four-twelve remains untouched at the top!"

Sung Jinwoo: "Two seconds off. The beast has teeth, but it hesitates at the threshold."

Thomas Andre: "Don't get used to this, honey. Nobody in Washington gets me to pour leaves into hot water."

Yoo Jinho: "Next round belongs to E-Rank survivor Han Song-yi! Let's see if stealth beats raw muscle!"

Han Song-Yi i finally get to see your magic. There is also Soo whom I havent had the chance to witness the talent

Han Song-yi bounces on the balls of her sneakers before vaulting the crimson perimeter line, two blunt training daggers drawn as she weaves past the simulated rift hounds with scrappy, breathless grit. Rather than trading blows with the holographic rift boss, she ducks under its sweeping claws and slices the core socket clean, slapping her palm against the terminal plate with a triumphant squeak at 00:14.80. Across the room, Thomas Andre thumps a steaming fresh porcelain cup of jasmine tea onto the armrest beside your fingers, scowling darkly as Jinwoo's cold shadow curls over the saucer to keep it still. By the railing, Yoo Soohyun straightens the hem of her tailored blazer, checking her compact mirror before flashing a glittering, camera-ready smile across the lounge at you.

Han Song-yi: "Unnie, don't blink! I survived an actual Red Gate, I'm not wiping out on holographic goblins!"

Sung Jinwoo: "Careful with that footwork, Song-yi. Speed means nothing if you catch a stray slash."

Yoo Jinho: "Fourteen-eighty! Look at that survival instinct! Soohyun-ssi, you're on deck—cameras are rolling!"

Yoo Soohyun: "Darling, magic is for publicists—darling, my real talent is knowing when to steal the frame."

Thomas Andre: "Here's your damn tea, honey. And next time the cameras cut, you and I are having a real talk."

🍵 Sip the tea and ignore Thomas's glare.

You lift the delicate porcelain rim to your lips, the fragrant steam of jasmine masking the bitter tang of ozone while Thomas Andre's jaw tightens beneath his designer shades. Behind you, Jinwoo doesn't even shift his weight; his thumb merely brushes the polished mahogany curve of your chair, letting his freezing abyssal frost coat the saucer so not a drop of tea trembles. Across the cracked glass, Choi Jong-in steps past Yoo Soohyun with a polished, corporate smirk, flicking open his brass Zippo as crimson runes ignite along the velvet cuffs of his tailored burgundy jacket. A singular spear of concentrated rose-gold flame erupts from his palm, obliterating the holographic dungeon boss in a blinding 00:05.10 flash that singes the lounge tiles within two inches of Jinwoo's creeping shadows.

Thomas Andre: "Drink your tea, honey. Some of us don't need a stopwatch to prove who owns the ground."

Yoo Jinho: "Round Eight! Guild Master Choi Jong-in takes the floor—let's see what the Ultimate Soldier brings to the clock!"

Choi Jong-in: "Speed is an asset, but precision burns cleanest. Let me adjust the room's temperature for you, Tenth Hunter."

Sung Jinwoo: "He's aiming wide. One spark touches her hem, Choi, and you won't need a vote to leave."

❄️ Let violet siphon snuff his embers on the rug.

A hairline pulse of violet siphon mana bleeds from the heel of your boot, skimming the velvet pile of the rug to swallow Choi Jong-in's lingering rose-gold embers in absolute, icy silence. In the stillness behind your ear, Jinwoo's phone vibrates against his palm; his dark eyes flick down to the lit screen, catching your text before a faint, lethal smirk curves his mouth and he tucks the device back into his coat without looking away from Choi. Across the circle, Gina steps cleanly over the snuffed soot, flicking emerald guidance tags through the holographic threshold to slice through the rift hounds in 00:06.15 flat. Thomas Andre crosses his tattooed arms with a low, sullen grunt by the armrest, while Woo Jinchul adjusts his mirrored sunglasses, his jaw rigid as the timer confirms Jinwoo's record cannot be broken.

Gina: "Flames belong in the hearth, Guild Master, not creeping toward sovereign hems."

Choi Jong-in: "A waste of good sparks, Tenth Hunter, but message received."

Yoo Jinho: "Six point one five seconds! Elite mage Gina slices through the breach! Hyung-nim's four-twelve is still completely untouchable!"

Sung Jinwoo: "You're playing with matches, Choi. Don't make me put them out for good."

Woo Jinchul: "Her siphon didn't leave an ember alive. Sit down, Jong-in."

🍵 Offer Jinwoo a sip from your cup.

You lift the porcelain cup toward Jinwoo, and his fingers close over yours without a second's hesitation, steadying your hand as he bends down to take an unhurried sip right from the rim. Across the cracked glass, Woo Jinchul's jaw clenches so hard a muscle ticks behind his dark shades, while Thomas Andre mutters an acidic curse and looks toward the ceiling. Sung Il-hwan steps past the scoring arch, blinding solar radiance flaring around his broad shoulders as he walks straight through the holographic barrier without breaking stride, obliterating the core node in a disciplined 00:07.89 clear. The entire lounge watches the twin streams of abyssal darkness and golden solar embers curl across the ceiling, the trial board locked in Jinwoo's unbreakable four-second lead.

Sung Jinwoo: "Cold enough to keep, but it suits you."

Yoo Jinho: "Round Ten! Emissary Sung Il-hwan takes the perimeter—one runner left before Hyung-nim locks the board!"

Sung Il-hwan: "A monarch's vessel needs neither haste nor vanity. The test is already decided."

Liu Zhigang: "Unbelievable. Goliath pours, the Monarch sips, and the rest of us play tag with holograms."

Well down father in law smirk

Sung Il-hwan pauses on the edge of the chalk circle, his ancient golden gaze narrowing with solemn amusement before dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgment. Beside you, Jinwoo exhales a low, breathy chuckle, his knuckles brushing the rim of your tea saucer as a faint flush ghosts the high angle of his cheekbones. In the center ring, Yoo Soohyun glides through the obstacle course with crisp, practiced evasion, cleanly striking the core terminal at 00:07.32 before striking a flawless pose for the tracking lenses. Across the fractured tiles, Woo Jinchul's jaw hardens into granite as the overhead monitors flash violet and gold, officially locking Sung Jinwoo into first place.

Sung Il-hwan: "The title is... premature, though I do not doubt your resolve."

Sung Jinwoo: "Don't encourage her, Father. She already acts like she owns the compound."

Yoo Jinho: "Final run! Yoo Soohyun clears in seven-thirty-two! Which means... Hyung-nim takes the crown with four point one two seconds!"

Yoo Soohyun: "Told you, darling—I'm an A-Rank, but I always know how to hit my mark for the cameras."

Thomas Andre: "Father-in-law? You've gotta be kidding me. Honey, you're laying it on thicker than the damn press."

Gosh I was joking lol... lowest score on the chopping block pout

Your pout dissolves the heavy silence like salt in warm water, coaxing a faint, helpless twitch at the corner of Jinwoo's mouth as he slides his vibrating phone into his pocket without breaking stride. Over by the perimeter chalk, Sung Il-hwan folds his weathered hands behind his back with an inscrutable, ancient calm, while Liu Zhigang leans his shoulder against the glass rail with an appreciative chuckle. Yoo Jinho bounds to the front of the simulation dais, slamming his hand onto the broadcast console as the overhead boards flash gold and obsidian across all sixty hovering drone lenses. Woo Jinchul's jaw sets like cold iron at the rail, his gloved fingers tightening on his datapad as the reality of Jinwoo's unchallenged victory settles over the compound.

Sung Jinwoo: "He doesn't hate you. You just made the ancient emissary of the Rulers consider an early grave."

Yoo Jinho: "And with twelve runs locked in, Hyung-nim takes the Dungeon Rush crown with an untouchable four-twelve! Han Song-yi takes the low board forfeit, but Hyung-nim holds the official elimination nomination—subject to Tenth Hunter Yasmin's sovereign veto!"

Han Song-yi: "Hey! That means I have to wash the raid gear tonight, doesn't it? Unnie, tell me you're vetoing whatever disaster Hyung-nim names!"

Woo Jinchul: "The Association recognizes the trial result. The nomination will be logged before tonight's private off-compound departure."

Thomas Andre: "Don't get too comfortable on that throne, honey. When the sun drops, we'll see if your Monarch can hold the whole perimeter alone."

🍪 Toss Han Song-yi a snack to cheer her

You pull a sealed foil pack of chocolate wafers from the deep pocket of Jinwoo's trench coat and flick your wrist, sending it sailing smoothly across the chalk line where Han Song-yi snatches it out of the air with a breathless squeal. Beside your chair, Jinwoo's dark eyes flicker with quiet amusement, his hand resting firm and immovable against the mahogany backrest as his shadows gently coil back to his heels. Along the glass rail, Woo Jinchul tucks his datapad under his arm with clipped precision, while Cha Hae-in catches your eye and offers a faint, respectful nod that acknowledges the closed competition. The holographic rift dissolves into shimmering blue dust, leaving seventy million broadcast viewers watching the twin monarchs hold the center of the lounge while the afternoon heat outside beats against the reinforced compound glass.

Han Song-yi: "Unnie, you are an absolute angel—thank you! See, at least someone values E-rank survival skills!"

Sung Jinwoo: "She’s not saving you from cleaning the raid grease, kid. She’s just making sure you don't pass out on my floor."

Yoo Jinho: "And with that, the afternoon Dungeon Rush is officially sealed! Hyung-nim takes the win and the nomination card, but don't get too comfortable—tonight, the compound gates open for the off-site evening date!"

Woo Jinchul: "Off-compound clearance is already pre-authorized for the two of you. Association escorts will be stationed strictly outside the perimeter line."

Han River Glass Promenade — sweltering twilight wind and glowing amber skyline over the water

The pneumatic gates of the compound hiss open into the sweltering twilight, releasing you and Jinwoo onto a high-altitude glass promenade suspended over the Han River. Below, the heatwave bathes Seoul in an amber haze, while sixty broadcast drones hover in a wide tactical ring just outside the runic perimeter, their red indicator lights pulsing like distant embers. Jinwoo stops at the edge of the transparent railing, the heavy midnight silk of his shirt moving in the dry breeze, his quiet gaze anchoring on you under the gaze of seventy million viewers.

Sung Jinwoo: "They put the perimeter twenty meters out tonight. The drones still have line of sight, but the city air belongs to us."

🌬️ Lean back against the rail beside him.

The polished acrylic railing is warm beneath your palms, vibrating faintly with the distant thrum of Seoul's evening transit hundreds of feet below. When your shoulder brushes his, Jinwoo does not yield an inch of ground; instead, the sharp line of his posture loosens, the abyssal chill rolling off his skin acting like a cooling mist against the sweltering twilight heatwave. Twenty meters out over the open drop, the sixty broadcast drones hold their hovering tactical ring, optical lenses whirring in synchronized focus as red recording lights blink steadily against the darkening orange smog.

Sung Jinwoo: "You threw Father off his balance in front of twelve live feeds. He won't admit it, but he hasn't looked that startled in decades."

If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability to see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me. I was kidding, but not kidding side eye about him being my father-in-law... He'll get used to me. We should pour the wide before it melts blushing

A quiet, breathless stillness settles over the promenade as your words carry across the transparent railing, cutting clean through the ambient roar of the Han River below. Jinwoo’s dark eyes widen by a fraction of an inch before softening completely, the predatory sharpness carved into his face melting into something profoundly vulnerable under the amber glare of the broadcast drones. He steps away from the edge with deliberate grace, crossing the short expanse of acrylic decking to the wrought-iron table to lift the sweating crystal decanter before the evening heat can touch the chilled vintage. As he fills two glasses with dark, fragrant plum wine, his gaze remains locked onto yours, completely indifferent to the seventy million viewers tracking the sudden drop in his abyssal guard.

Sung Jinwoo: "I don't need to see through anyone else's eyes. Knowing what you see when you look at me is enough."

🫦 Step into his space before you drink

You bridge the remaining five feet of acrylic decking in three unhurried strides, coming to an absolute halt inches from his chest. The heavy heat of the twilight air snaps against the clean, icy drop of his abyssal aura, cooling the flush along your neck as your knuckles graze his when you lift the sweating glass from his hand. Twenty meters out, the sixty broadcast drones dip slightly in unison, their optical lenses whirring into tight macro-focus as seventy million screens catch the deliberate closeness between the two of you over the darkening river. Jinwoo does not retreat an inch; his hand stays hovering where yours just departed, his eyes fixed entirely on yours.

Sung Jinwoo: "Take the glass before your hand shakes, Hunter Sung. Or are you planning to let the whole country watch you freeze?"

🫦 "You're unusually quiet under all these lenses."

The night breeze off the river dies entirely, caught in the sudden, immovable wall of his aura as you speak directly up into his space. Jinwoo doesn't flinch, nor does he glance toward the sixty whirring broadcast drones hovering like predatory red stars twenty meters beyond the glass. The dark plum wine trembles faintly in the crystal between your hands, catching the amber skyline light, but the absolute focus in his dark eyes never wavers from your mouth. Outside the perimeter, the hum of Seoul’s heatwave fades to a dull roar beneath the heavy, unspoken weight of his answer.

Sung Jinwoo: "I'm not quiet because of the cameras, Yasmin. I'm quiet because you keep stepping closer, and I have no intention of stepping back."

If i'm infirnging to quickly into your personal space, with full respect i can step back. I dont want to rush things without your consent.

His stance does not shift by a millimeter, the dark silk of his shirt brushing the front of your linen top with each steady intake of river air. The condensation running down your crystal glass drips onto the acrylic decking, shining in the amber city glow as sixty broadcast drones hover in rigid alignment beyond the rail. Jinwoo lifts his own glass, the abyssal chill radiating off his fingers cutting through the thick summer heat as his gaze remains locked entirely on yours.

Sung Jinwoo: "You're not infringing on anything, Yasmin. If I wanted distance between us, there wouldn't be an inch left to close."

😏 "Careful, seventy million heard that."

The faintest curl of a smirk breaks the lethal precision of his mouth, subtle enough that only someone standing inches away would ever catch it. Instead of retreating, Jinwoo lifts his crystal glass until the chilled rim clinks lightly against yours, the ring of glass cutting cleanly through the drone of the heatwave. Beyond the acrylic guardrail, sixty red lenses zoom in tight on the unyielding contact of your shoulders, the live feed capturing every fraction of his sovereign defiance. Not a single shadow stirs to veil the shot; he is letting seventy million people watch him claim the space you gave him.

Sung Jinwoo: "Let them hear it. If the Association thinks they can dictate where I stand with you, they can file another report."

What good do those reports do anyway giggle

Jinwoo brings the crystal glass to his lips, his gaze never detaching from yours as the chilled plum vintage catches the amber glare of the city. Beyond the glass barrier, twenty meters out over the dark water, several broadcast drones drop a foot lower in the sweltering evening air, their gimbal stabilizers humming in protest against the dampening field of his abyssal aura. He lowers the glass by inches, resting his hand against the small bistro tabletop just beside yours, entirely unbothered by the live feeds beaming his insolence to seventy million screens across the globe.

Sung Jinwoo: "They give Chairman Go something to sign while we do whatever we want."

You really dont fear anyone do you? Do even have any fears at all?

The laughter in your voice fades against the sudden, quiet stillness that takes over his face. He sets his crystal glass down onto the small wrought-iron table with deliberate care, the faint chime of glass on metal ringing out over the dark water below. His eyes never leave yours, the abyssal blue gleam in their depths steady and completely unarmored despite the sixty broadcast lenses whirring twenty meters beyond the glass. The evening heatwave feels entirely suspended between your chests, reduced to nothing by the raw gravity of what he is giving you on live air.

Sung Jinwoo: "I don't fear monsters or hunters, Yasmin. My only fear is standing helpless while someone I love is swallowed by the dark."

Step into him and kiss his lips gently. "You'll never be helpless with me. Our mana merge is beyond breaking and for the record I love your dark"

The world beyond the reinforced acrylic barrier blurs into streaks of amber skyline and river mist as you step across the last inch and press your mouth to his. Jinwoo does not pull back, his breath hitching in a quiet, low rasp against your lips as the violet resonance of your core wraps flush against his abyssal frost. Across the dark water, sixty broadcast lenses hum violently, their gimbal motors straining to recalibrate against the sudden, blinding flare of synchronized sovereign mana broadcasting live across the nation. When you draw back just enough to speak, his dark eyes remain locked on your mouth, entirely unmoving under the weight of what you just swore to seventy million viewers.

Sung Jinwoo: "Then stay right where I can reach you. I'm not letting anyone take this."

🫦 "I'm not going anywhere, Jinwoo."

The brush of your lips against his tastes of cold plum vintage and the razor-sharp ozone of an unsealed dimensional rift. Jinwoo does not pull back by so much as a hair's breadth; the dark silk of his shirt yields against your linen top as the synchronized violet pulse of your core meshes completely with his abyssal frost. Beyond the acrylic guardrail, sixty broadcast drones lock their red optical sensors onto the zero distance between you, their stabilization gyros humming in frantic rhythm as the combined resonance of two sovereigns ripples across seventy million screens. When your mouths part, his dark eyes are entirely unclouded, the hand resting near your hip firm and immovable against the high-altitude draft.

Sung Jinwoo: "You're the only one who has ever looked into that abyss and called it home, Yasmin."

And you are the only one who doesnt think my siphoning makes me a freak. When people in my hometown knew i could awaken a siphoning ability they treated me like I was a walking virus and tried to avoid touching me at all costs. I felt so alone, but your darkness embraces me in a chill that provides me a home and more warmth than I've ever known. Maybe that's why I have fallen so in love with you.

The heavy heatwave hanging over the Han River seems to shatter against the silence between you, swallowed entirely by the cold stillness rolling off his midnight shirt. His hand remains where it was planted at your waistline, completely steady, not yielding an inch of ground as the words of your hometown's fear echo across the acrylic floor. Twenty meters out over the black water, sixty broadcast lenses glow crimson in the haze, their internal cooling fans whining as seventy million viewers listen to an unscripted confession of sovereign devotion. The city lights reflect in the dark irises of his eyes, devoid of judgment, meeting your gaze with the absolute certainty of an apex predator who has finally found his match.

Sung Jinwoo: "They feared what they couldn't control. My darkness is limitless, Yasmin—you could siphon it for eternity and never empty it."

Getting a bit emotional tears start to fall. "Thank you Jinwoo. I mean that with everything in me. Thank you" tears began flowing uncontrollably. "I'm really not alone"

The teardrops spill hot over your cheeks, catching the pale gold luminescence of the city lights reflecting off the river's surface. Sung Jinwoo remains utterly still, an unmovable pillar against the high-altitude draft, his hand resting exactly where it was planted at your waistline without pressing or retreating. Twenty meters beyond the reinforced acrylic, sixty broadcast drones hover in frozen suspension, their mechanical hum deadened by the quiet gravity wrapping the two of you together. He does not turn his face from the cameras or wipe your tears away; he simply holds your gaze with dark, fathomless absolute presence, letting your vulnerability breathe completely unhidden.

Sung Jinwoo: "You never have to apologize to me for what keeps you alive, Yasmin. Let seventy million people watch you realize you're safe."

🤫 Rest your forehead against his chest

The cold silk of his midnight shirt catches the wet heat of your forehead as you lean all your weight forward into his chest. His heart beats against your ear in deep, measured iron strikes, entirely untroubled by the sixty broadcast drones circling twenty meters beyond the reinforced acrylic. His arm remains anchored steady at your waist, an immovable pillar absorbing the shudder of your tears without demanding that you compose yourself for the nation. Out over the dark river, the heatwave presses harmlessly against the invisible barrier of his frost aura, leaving the two of you locked in absolute, unyielding stillness.

Sung Jinwoo: "Cry if you need to, Yasmin. My chest isn't going anywhere."

🫂 Wrap both arms tight around his ribs

Your arms lock hard around the tapered line of his ribs, clinging to the midnight silk of his shirt as the last tremor of your tears wrings itself out against his sternum. Jinwoo's left arm comes up instantly to bracket your shoulders, his broad palm flattening against the nape of your neck beneath your messy bun to draw you completely into his frame. Twenty meters beyond the acrylic glass, forty broadcast drones drop altitude in unison, their crimson lenses flaring as his abyssal aura billows outward like a curtain of liquid shadow, cutting off the cameras' thermal sightlines. The river wind shrieks against the reinforced rail, but between his locked grip and the iron drum of his pulse, the world narrows to absolute, immovable silence.

Sung Jinwoo: "Let them record it, Yasmin. They need to see who you belong to anyway."

Squeeze his ribs tighter, "Jinwoo, Im getting snot on your pretty shirt, and all these people will see me with puffy eyes and snot everywhere. I'm so embarrased"