"He's remarkably well-behaved with you," Ramirez commented as we left the containment facility. "Our xenobiologists are fascinated."
"He's always been well-behaved," I replied, which was such a blatant lie that I nearly laughed saying it. "Just protective."
"Hmm." She didn't sound convinced but didn't press the issue. "In any case, the release paperwork is being processed. Assuming no complications, your... pet... will be transferred to your custody once your housing situation is stable."
"How long will that take?" I asked as we returned to the SUV.
"A few days. Maybe a week." She opened the car door for me. "The Association maintains transition apartments for situations like yours. That's where we're headed now."
The ride into the city was longer this time, taking us through areas I recognized as Toronto's midtown. Eventually, we pulled up outside a modern high-rise that looked more upscale than I'd expected.
"Hunter Association Residential Tower," Ramirez explained as we entered the lobby. "The lower floors are for transition housing and administrative offices. Upper floors are for active hunters."
The lobby was sleek and professional, with a security desk staffed by individuals who, despite their business attire, moved with the alert readiness of trained combatants. Ramirez led me to an elevator, swiping her badge to access it.
"You'll be on the fourth floor," she said as the doors closed. "Transition housing. Basic but comfortable. The Association covers all expenses for the first year, after which you're expected to be self-sufficient."
"A year?" I asked, surprised by the generosity.
"Standard policy for gate victims with significant resource needs," she replied. "Given your unique situation—legally dead for a decade, no family support system, potential traumatic memory loss—you qualify for the full package."
The elevator opened onto a corridor that reminded me of an upscale dormitory. Ramirez led me to a door marked 412, then handed me a keycard.
"Your temporary home," she said. "The system's coded to your biometrics already, but keep the card as backup."
I swiped the card, and the door unlocked with a soft click. The apartment beyond was indeed basic but far nicer than I'd anticipated—a studio layout with a small kitchen area, a living space with a couch and TV, a desk with a computer, and a door that presumably led to the bathroom. Large windows offered a view of the city skyline.
"This is... really nice," I said honestly, setting my duffel bag on the counter.
"The Association takes care of its own," Ramirez replied. She handed me another folder. "Here's everything you need to know—building policies, local resources, your stipend details, and the contact information for your case manager. That would be me, by the way."
I took the folder, surprised. "You're my case manager? I thought you were just transport."
"I'm both," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "Response and Containment handles all anomalous gate cases. You and your cat definitely qualify."
Wow. I wasn't just getting assistance; I was getting monitored by their equivalent of special forces.
"Well, thanks for the escort and the information," I said, trying to sound appropriately grateful despite my concerns. "What happens next?"
"Get settled in. Your case manager—me—will check in tomorrow to start your reintegration process. That includes medical follow-ups, skills assessment, and education or employment planning." She moved toward the door, then paused. "The fridge is stocked with basics. Building security is 24/7. Don't leave the premises without notifying the front desk."
That last part sounded less like helpful information and more like a directive.
"Am I under house arrest?" I asked, keeping my tone light but genuine concern beneath it.
Ramirez's expression softened slightly. "Not at all. But you're a gate anomaly, Parker. Standard protocol is observation for the first few weeks to ensure there are no delayed effects or complications." She gestured to the computer on the desk. "Internet access is unrestricted, though monitored. The TV has all standard channels. Consider it a soft landing while you adjust to... everything."
I nodded, understanding the subtext. I wasn't a prisoner, but I was definitely being watched.
"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate the Association's help. Really."
She nodded once, professional mask firmly back in place. "Rest. Adjust. I'll be by at 10 AM tomorrow." With that, she left, the door locking automatically behind her.
Once alone, I did a thorough exploration of my new home. The bathroom was small but modern, with a shower/tub combination. The closet contained basic clothing in what appeared to be my size—jeans, t-shirts, a couple of button-ups, even pajamas and underwear. The kitchen was stocked with non-perishable foods and some basic fresh items in the refrigerator.
It was all very thoughtful and thorough. And slightly unnerving in its efficiency.
I checked the computer, finding it already set up with a guest account. The browser history was empty, and a quick search confirmed that yes, this world had a version of the internet very similar to my own, though with significant differences reflecting the reality of gates and hunters.
My first search was obvious: "Solo Leveling."
No results matched. Whatever manhwa or novel had existed in my world had no counterpart here. This wasn't fiction; it was reality.
My next search was for basic information about the world I now inhabited.
News sites filled in the gaps in my knowledge: Gates had first appeared worldwide approximately ten years ago. Initially, the military had attempted to contain the monster incursions, with catastrophic results. Then, individuals with special abilities—hunters—had emerged, displaying powers that could counter the gate threats.
Hunter Associations had formed globally, working with governments to manage gate appearances and monster threats.
A power hierarchy had quickly established itself, with S-rank hunters at the top, commanding both respect and enormous financial compensation for their abilities.
According to the Canadian Hunter Association website, Canada had only one S-rank hunter: Jay Mills, a former military officer who had awakened with exceptional tank based abilities. His photo showed a stern-faced man in his forties with steel-gray hair and pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the screen. He was treated as a national hero.
The United States had three, China had six, Japan led with eleven, and South Korea had nine without Jinwoo. The remaining five S-ranks were distributed across various nations.
It's been months since I've finished reading Solo Leveling. I'm not entirely sure of my fading memory of the detailed plot, but recent news mentioned increasing gate activity worldwide, particularly in South Korea. There was also no news of any Double Dungeons in a D-rank gate popping up in that country.
That means Sung Jinwoo did not receive his system yet.
But I knew it was only a matter of time, maybe a few weeks or months, before it would happen. The storyline of Jinwoo started in the tenth year after gates appeared.
I was earlier in the timeline than I'd initially thought, which meant major events from the storyline I knew hadn't happened yet. The Jeju Island raid, the international conflicts, the Monarch wars—all were still in the future.
This changed everything. With advanced knowledge and my own developing powers, could I alter the course of events? Should I even try?
A ping from my System interrupted my research:
[Daily Quest Available]
[Acclimation: Explore Your New Home]
[Difficulty: E]
[Objective: Familiarize yourself with the Hunter Association Residential Tower]
[Reward: 10 EXP, Increased Association Trust]
[Accept?] [Y/N]
I selected [Y] immediately. Experience points would be crucial for leveling up, and "increased Association trust" could only help my situation.
[Quest Accepted]
[Objective: Explore all common areas of the Hunter Association Residential Tower]
[Time Limit: 8 hours]
Simple enough. This system was giving me easy quests so far compared to Jinwoo's own system.
Then again, the main system was made for Jinwoo only.
My system might look the same, but it's not. That one emoji it gave me yesterday was a telling sign.
I changed into fresh clothes from the closet, pocketed my keycard and the prepaid phone, and headed out to explore the building.
The fourth floor, as Ramirez had mentioned, was entirely transition housing. The hallways were quiet, with only a few other residents visible—most looked shell-shocked or wary, fellow gate victims adjusting to their new circumstances, I guessed.
I found a common room at the end of the hall, equipped with comfortable seating, books, magazines, and a large TV currently showing news coverage of a gate operation somewhere in Europe. A small kitchenette offered coffee, tea, and light snacks.
An older man sat alone by the window, staring out at the city. He glanced up as I entered, offering a tired smile.
"New arrival?" he asked.
I nodded, approaching his table. "Just today. Ethan Parker."
"Marcus Wei," he replied, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Been here three weeks. Gate incident in Vancouver."
I sat down, grateful for the opportunity to speak with someone who wasn't from the Association. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"
Marcus shrugged, the movement stiff as if he was still recovering from injuries. "Was in the wrong place when a C-rank gate opened in the middle of downtown. Got caught in the initial mana wave. Woke up two weeks later with everyone telling me how lucky I was to survive."
He studied me with shrewd eyes. "You?"
"Similar story," I said, sticking to my cover. "D-rank gate, woke up in the hospital. Memory loss from the experience."
"Ah, the amnesia cases," he nodded knowingly. "Association loves those. Less paperwork when you can't remember what happened."
I laughed despite myself. "You make it sound like they prefer us confused."
"Easier to manage," he confirmed, though his tone remained light. "Don't get me wrong—they take care of us. But information flows one way with the Association."
He tapped his temple. "What they know, they keep. What we know, they extract."
It was a perspective I hadn't considered but made sense. Organizations like the Hunter Association would prioritize control of information, especially regarding gates and their effects.
"Thanks for the insight," I said sincerely. "I'm still trying to get my bearings."
"Aren't we all?" Marcus replied with a wry smile. "Word of advice: use the gym on the second floor. Best therapy there is."
I thanked him and continued my exploration, finding the gym he'd mentioned (impressively equipped and clearly designed for hunter-level workouts), a cafeteria with surprisingly good food options, a small library focused on gate-related research and hunter techniques, and a medical clinic for residents.
By the time I'd completed a full tour, including a courtyard garden on the ground floor, my System pinged with quest completion:
[Quest Complete: Acclimation]
[Rewards: 10 EXP, Increased Association Trust]
[Current EXP: 10/100]
[Level Progress: 10%]
Ten experience points wasn't much, but it was a start. I returned to my apartment, feeling both physically tired and mentally overwhelmed by everything I'd learned.
Night had fallen over Toronto, the city lights creating a familiar yet alien landscape outside my window. I sat on the edge of the bed, finally allowing myself to fully process the reality of my situation.
My grandparents—my real grandparents—were back in my dimension, probably panicking about my disappearance. Here, their counterparts had died years ago in the Mississauga Incident. I had no family, no real identity, just a cover story about amnesia and a watchful government organization monitoring my every move.
On the other hand, I had a System that granted me powers similar to the protagonist of a story I'd read. My cat could now communicate telepathically with me and transform into a magical beast. And I had apparently been chosen by some entity called "Sol" for... something.
"What am I supposed to do here?" I asked the empty room, not really expecting an answer.
To my surprise, the System responded:
[Primary Objective: Grow Stronger]
[Secondary Objective: Discover the Purpose of the Light]
[Hidden Objective: Find a Way Home]
The last one caught me off guard. The System knew I wanted to go home? Was it actually trying to help me, or was this just a way to motivate me toward whatever its true purpose was?
I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow would begin my official "reintegration" into this world. I needed to play along, to appear as nothing more than a confused gate victim gradually recovering. Meanwhile, I would need to find ways to level up, to understand this System, and to reunite permanently with Loki.
And somewhere out there, Sung Jinwoo was still an E-rank hunter, struggling to pay for his mother's medical bills, unaware that soon he would begin his own journey as the Shadow Monarch's vessel.
Would our paths cross? Were we allies or potential rivals in whatever cosmic game was being played?
As sleep began to claim me, one final notification appeared:
[Daily Quest Available Tomorrow: Training Begins]
[Special Skill Selection Available at Level 2]
[Rest Well, Player ^－^ ]
Even in another dimension, it seemed, there was no escape from the grind. But at least this grind came with superpowers.