The air howled, torn by claws and fangs. The city square, filled with ordinary bustle just minutes ago, had become hell. A portal had ruptured, spewing forth streams of creatures the color of dried blood. The panic was deafening.

Sung Jin-Woo observed from the roof of a low building, his gaze cold and analytical. He calculated the trajectories of the pack's movement, assessing the threat. This wasn't his problem. His target was a larger cluster of monsters three blocks away, where he could efficiently level up. He had already turned to leave via a shorter, safer path for himself when his gaze caught a movement below.

In an alley, cluttered with dumpsters, a girl was pressed against the wall. She was surrounded. Three low-level Goblin Berserkers, drooling, were closing in on her, blocking the only exit.

Jin-Woo froze. His brain, honed by countless raids, instantly analyzed the situation.

· Probability of the target's survival: close to zero. · Risk to him: minimal. 3 Berserkers—a warm-up. · Time spent neutralizing the threat: 12 seconds. · Benefit: zero. The experience from such creatures was pitiful.

The logical decision was to move on. Rational. Correct. Exactly what the cold and calculating hunter he had become would have done.

But he didn't move.

There was no hysteria in her posture. No panicked screams. She stood, fists clenched, her shoulders tense and her back straight. And her eyes... There was no blind terror in them. There was a cold, clear calculation, mirroring his own. She was assessing the distance, looking for weak points, preparing to attack, fully aware of its hopelessness. That silent readiness to fight to the end, even in a hopeless situation, momentarily sent him back to the past, to those days when he, weak and helpless, would clutch his cheap weapon in his sweaty palms, knowing he might not return.

This irrational, foolish resemblance made his body move before his brain gave the order.

He didn't leap down from the roof dramatically. He simply vanished from his spot and materialized in the alley like a shadow. "Kasaka" whistled through the air with a short, crushing sound. The first berserker collapsed without even understanding what had happened. The second one turned, but the blade had already pierced its throat. The third froze for an instant, and that instant was enough for the black steel to cleave it in two.

Silence. Only Jin-Woo's heavy breathing, which immediately steadied. He didn't look at the one he saved. His gaze scanned the ends of the alley, checking if the noise had attracted a new threat. Only after confirming it was safe did he slowly turn around.

He looked at her. Not to comfort or receive thanks. His analytical mind, the very one that calculated the outcome of a battle in seconds, was now working on a new puzzle. What was it about her? Why did he, who always preferred to act alone, deviate from the plan?

He waited. Waited to see what she would do. Would she cry, faint, start babbling words of gratitude upon seeing his power? Any ordinary, predictable reaction would confirm his initial assessment—this was a mistake, a random weakness to be eliminated in the future.