The metallic tang of copper and the razor-sharp bite of ice flooded Min-ho's mouth as consciousness dragged him back from the void, each sensation cutting through the fog in his mind like shards of broken glass. His eyelids felt weighted with lead anchors, muscles refusing to obey his desperate commands, and when he finally forced them open through sheer will, the world greeted him in an impossible tapestry of crystalline white. Frost coated every surface around him with mathematical precision—the concrete beneath his cheek transformed into a mirror of ice, the metal fire escape ladder above his head encased in icicles that defied gravity, even his own ragged breath forming delicate, spiraling patterns in air that shouldn't exist in Seoul's suffocating summer heat.
*What the hell happened to me?* Min-ho pushed himself upright, his palms scraping against ice-slicked pavement that sent electric jolts of cold through his bones. The alley stretched before him like a frozen canyon, narrow and utterly unfamiliar, sandwiched between two towering apartment complexes whose architecture he'd never seen before. Neon signs flickered in the distance like dying stars, their Korean characters swimming and blurring through his disorientation. The shadow wolf's presence felt muted in his mind, like an echo heard through deep water or thick glass.
He fumbled for his phone with trembling fingers that barely responded to his commands. 3:47 AM. The digital numbers glowed accusingly in the darkness. The last coherent thing he remembered was leaving the hospital around ten PM, walking toward the familiar subway station near his cramped apartment. Six hours. Gone. Vanished like morning mist under sunlight, leaving only this impossible winter wonderland in the middle of summer's oppressive embrace.
"Kid, you still breathing over there?" The voice carried a rough authority that made Min-ho's spine straighten instinctively, like a soldier responding to a drill sergeant's bark. Heavy footsteps echoed off the alley walls with deliberate precision as a figure approached through the frost-laden air, each step crunching against ice that shouldn't exist. The man who emerged from the shadows wore a long black coat that seemed untouched by the supernatural cold, its fabric moving like liquid darkness. Silver hair caught the distant streetlight, and intricate scars traced patterns across his weathered face like a roadmap of violence. His eyes held the predatory alertness Min-ho had learned to recognize in high-rank hunters—the look of someone who'd killed and would kill again without hesitation.
"I'm fine," Min-ho lied through chattering teeth, struggling to his feet on unsteady legs. Ice crystals cascaded from his clothes like fallen stars, each one catching the light before dissolving into nothingness. "Just... lost track of time, that's all."
The stranger's laugh held no humor, only the bitter edge of someone who'd heard too many lies to count. "Lost track of time?" He pulled out a cigarette with practiced ease, the motion smooth despite the cold. "Son, you've been unconscious in a pool of your own mana for the better part of an hour. The temperature in this alley dropped twenty degrees in the span of minutes. Ice formed on surfaces that were bone dry. Whatever you call that, it sure as hell ain't losing track of time."
Min-ho's blood turned colder than the supernatural frost surrounding them, each word hitting like a physical blow. "You've been watching me?"
"Name's Park Jin-wook, Guild Master of Crimson Fang." The man stepped closer, and Min-ho caught the complex scent of cigarettes layered with something metallic—blood, maybe, or the sharp ozone smell that clung to hunters who'd seen too much combat, who'd walked through too many battlefields. "And yeah, I've been watching you. Hard not to notice when an E-rank hunter starts throwing around enough ice magic to turn a city block into a winter wonderland."
The words hit Min-ho like physical blows to his chest, driving the air from his lungs. Ice magic? He'd contracted with a shadow wolf and an earth sprite—creatures of darkness and stone. There was no ice in his arsenal, no frost among his documented abilities. Yet the evidence surrounded him, undeniable and impossible, coating every surface like nature's own accusation. He reached desperately for the shadow wolf's consciousness, seeking answers in that familiar darkness, but found only that same muffled presence, as if something had wrapped his contracted entities in layers of thick cotton.
"There's been a mistake," Min-ho said, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt their falseness like ash on his tongue. The frost responded to his emotions with frightening precision, growing thicker where his feet touched the ground, spreading outward in delicate fractals that matched the rhythm of his thundering heartbeat.
Park Jin-wook lit his cigarette with casual ease, the flame dancing strangely in the cold air, casting shifting shadows across his scarred features. "No mistake, kid. You've got something special brewing in that head of yours. Something that goes way beyond what the Association's got in your neat little file." He took a long drag, exhaling smoke that mingled with the frost-laden air like incense in a temple. "Tell me, how many contracts have you made?"
The question landed like a steel trap, its jaws snapping shut around Min-ho's throat with merciless precision. How could this stranger know about his system? About contracts that shouldn't exist in any hunter's arsenal, abilities that defied every rule he'd been taught? Min-ho's mind raced through possibilities—surveillance, leaked information, or worse, someone who understood exactly what he was becoming, what he was transforming into.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Min-ho said, but his voice cracked on the lie like thin ice under pressure.
"Sure you don't." Park Jin-wook's smile revealed teeth stained with nicotine and something darker, more permanent. "Look around you, kid. This isn't normal hunter magic. This is something else entirely. Something that makes the Association nervous, which means it makes me very, very interested."
As if summoned by their conversation, the frost began to recede with unnatural speed. Min-ho watched in fascination and growing horror as the ice crystals dissolved into mist, leaving behind only damp concrete and the lingering scent of winter pine. The temperature climbed back toward normal summer warmth, but the memory of that impossible cold clung to his skin like a second layer, like a warning.
*Finally,* the shadow wolf's voice cut through his confusion, clearer now but edged with bone-deep exhaustion. *The ice sprite's tantrum is over.*
Ice sprite. The words echoed in Min-ho's mind as fragments of memory began to surface—not from the lost six hours, but from deeper places, buried recollections. The earth sprite's violent death. The moment of choosing between shadow and ice. He'd thought he'd chosen shadow, made his decision with certainty, but what if the system had bound them both? What if every contract came with consequences he couldn't understand, prices he'd never agreed to pay?
"I can see the wheels turning," Park Jin-wook said, flicking ash onto the damp pavement with practiced indifference. "You're starting to remember, aren't you? Or maybe starting to realize you never forgot—you just couldn't access it while the other personality was driving the bus."
Other personality. The words hit Min-ho like ice water injected directly into his veins. "What are you talking about?"
"Multiple contracted entities, kid. Each one leaves a mark on your psyche, carves out its own little territory in your head. Most hunters can barely handle one contracted creature without losing pieces of themselves to the process. You're juggling at least two, maybe more, and your brain's trying to compartmentalize the overflow." Park Jin-wook's eyes gleamed with something between admiration and predatory hunger. "It's impressive as hell, but it's also going to kill you if you don't learn to manage it properly."
Min-ho's legs felt unsteady beneath him, the world tilting at dangerous angles. The implications crashed over him in relentless waves—blackouts, lost time, abilities he couldn't control or remember using. How many times had this happened? How many gaps existed in his memory that he'd dismissed as simple fatigue or stress?
"Why are you telling me this?" Min-ho asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?"
Park Jin-wook dropped his cigarette and ground it under his heel with deliberate force. "I want to offer you a job, kid. Crimson Fang specializes in hunters with... unique circumstances. We've got resources the Association doesn't, training methods they wouldn't approve of, and most importantly, we've got experience dealing with contractors who've bitten off more than they can chew."
The offer hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility and unspoken threat. Min-ho could feel the shadow wolf stirring in his mind, no longer muffled, its attention sharp and focused like a blade. There was something else too—a cold presence that felt both alien and familiar, like remembering a dream upon waking. The ice sprite, awake now, watching through his eyes with predatory interest.
"And if I refuse?" Min-ho asked.
Park Jin-wook's smile turned predatory, revealing too many teeth. "Then you'll keep having these little episodes until one day you don't wake up from them. Or worse, you wake up standing over a pile of bodies with no memory of how they got there." He stepped closer, and Min-ho caught the unmistakable scent of old blood on his coat, violence worn like cologne. "Trust me, kid. You don't want to find out what happens when the ice sprite decides it doesn't like sharing space with your other passengers."
As if in direct response to his words, the temperature around them plummeted again, and Min-ho felt his consciousness beginning to fracture along invisible fault lines, ice-cold thoughts that weren't his own pushing against the barriers of his mind like prisoners testing their cage.