✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 || 𝖲𝖮𝖫𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖨𝖭𝖦
synopsis: turns out, commanding an army of shadows is way easier than handling a workplace crush.
sung jinwoo x female!reader (oneshot)
wc: 3.9k
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
the world was ending.
or at least it felt that way to the general public, but sung jinwoo was mostly just annoyed that he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent meal that didn’t come out of a plastic foil wrapper.
clearing an s-rank dungeon wasn’t supposed to be a stroll through a scenic park, obviously. the ground was still damp with dark and viscous blood that definitely didn't belong to anything human, and the air carried that suffocating scent of rotting mana that made normal hunters vomit on their boots.
jinwoo didn't vomit as he was far past the point of having a normal human reaction to horrific imagery, but he did let out an exhausted groan that vibrated deep in his chest.
around him, the shadows of his resurrected soldiers flickered against the jagged cavern walls, waiting for their master's command to retreat back into his shadow.
igris stood perfectly upright, the picture perfect of chivalrous loyalty.
while beru was doing something that suspiciously looked like he's vibrating with murderous enthusiasm in the corner.
"get back," jinwoo muttered, his voice raspy from hours of shouting commands and breathing in dust.
with a silent and almost fluid like sink, the massive army vanished into his shadow, leaving him completely alone in the center of the cleared gate.
the dungeon boss—which was a grotesque, multi-limbed monstrosity that had threatened to flatten three blocks of seoul was now reduced to a neat pile of magical stones and a corpse.
the system's blue holographic screens floated in front of his face, chiming in cheerfully.
[you have leveled up!]
[you have gained the title...]
"shut up," he muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the notifications.
power ups were great, sure.
becoming a literal god of death before he reached his thirties was a decent career trajectory, but the system forgot to mention that the cost for all this ridiculous power was his sanity.
his schedule had been so utterly hectic over the last three days that he hadn't even had the chance to eat a proper breakfast or use the bathroom in peace before the hunters association dragged him to the gate.
he was running on pure mana and spite at this point. his body was feeling the absolute limits of exhaustion.
sure, he can just drink a potion to regain strength. but nothing beats the good ole eight hours of sleep. and proper food of course.
stepping out of the gate’s fading vortex, he didn't even bother waiting for woo jin-chul or the inevitable crowd of frantic reporters who were currently scrambling to set up their cameras down the street.
he just pulled his black hoodie lower over his face and shoved his hands deep into his pockets before letting his feet take him wherever they wanted to go.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
tonight, the streets around the dungeon perimeter were eerily quiet, slicked with a thin layer of freezing rain.
his head hung low as he sighed, feeling the weight of whatever absurd global responsibility and burden the world had decided to shove onto his shoulders getting heavier and heavier with each step.
he was just a guy.
a very strong guy who could command an army of the dead, yes, but still just a guy who wanted a sandwich. or a piece of bread. or literally anything that didn't taste like ash or iron or blood.
after walking for what felt like miles through the gloomy streets, his boots suddenly clicked to a halt on the pavement.
he froze in his tracks.
right ahead, nestled between a dreary looking convenience store and a dark and shuttered real estate office, was a very obnoxiously bright light illuminating the entire sidewalk.
it was a warm but almost aggressive golden glow that looked out of place in this neighborhood.
jinwoo blinked, his eyes adapting to the sudden brightness. the exterior of the place let out this strangely welcoming, cozy aura which is practically begging cold and miserable pedestrians to look inside.
his eyes flickered upward to the neatly painted wooden sign that read, ppang bakery.
almost instantly, his stomach let out a grumble that echoed against the empty buildings.
he moved closer, his nose catched the buttery and faint scent of yeast and sugar that was somehow escaping through the vents. through the large glass window, he could see delightful rows of wooden trays stacked high with pastries.
glossy cream buns, braided breads, twisted donuts dusted with sugar, and soft loaves that looked like clouds.
jinwoo looked closely at the counter. there was nobody serving as of the moment. the little space behind the cash register was totally empty.
where was the staff?
he stared for another three seconds. oh well, he thought, if it comes down to it, he'd just take a few pastries himself and leave a generous pile of high denomination cash on the counter.
the hunters association paid him more money than he knew what to do with anyway, so he could probably buy the whole building if someone challenged him on it. (he would)
he marched forward, his heavy leather boots making a dull thud against the welcome mat, and pushed the door open. the little brass bell above the frame gave a chime.
as soon as his left foot stepped inside the heated room, something—no, someone—suddenly popped out from the other side of the counter, rising from the floor like an energetic jack-in-the-box.
sung jinwoo deadpanned.
"welcome to ppang bakery!"
as soon as jinwoo looked up to properly look at the cashier's face, his entire body locked up. his shadows flared for a microsecond beneath his boots before he forced them down with every willpower he has remaining.
what the hell were you doing here?
his brain completely short-circuited. his vocal cords felt instantly entangled with one another, tighter than the webs of an arachnid dungeon boss.
of course he knew her.
he knew that specific tilt of the head, the way her hair caught the light of the shop, and that incredibly bright but slightly tired expression.
but he couldn't exactly say the same for her.
[reader] was currently holding a plastic tray in one hand and a pair of metal tongs in the other, blinking at the massive and intimidating and brooding man who had just entered her shop.
she probably didn't recognize him at all, and honestly, why would she?
the last time she’d seen him, he was half her size, covered in cheap convenience store bought bandages and limping so badly he could barely stand straight.
but now he was over six feet tall with broad shoulders, radiating an aura that made wild animals run for their lives and dressed in expensive black designer gear.
but the shock of seeing her didn't stop his heart from beating rapidly against his ribs like a drum.
jinwoo opened his mouth, his lips parting slightly, but he literally couldn't find the ability to form a single coherent word.
the world's strongest hunter was currently being held hostage by a girl with a pastry tray.
"is there anything you'd like to order?" [reader] asked, her smile remaining unhurried, completely oblivious to the cataclysm happening internally inside his chest.
realizing he was staring like a total creep, jinwoo immediately switched his plans of just grabbing random items.
his hand shook slightly (a detail that would have horrified the other s-rank hunters who watched him slice through monsters without a single tremor) as he lifted his left arm and pointed blindly toward a random bread sitting in the far, dusty corner of the display case.
it was an old-school and slightly deflated soboro-ppang. [1]
a crumble bun that looked like it had been sitting there all day because nobody under the age of sixty actually bought them anymore.
he held up a single, black-gloved finger.
as if on cue, [reader] understood it instantly. "alright. one crumble bun to go."
she reached down with her tongs, deftly picking up the lonely pastry and sliding it into a small white paper bag.
jinwoo took the bag and paid with a bill that was far too large for a single piece of cheap bread before bolting out into the cold night air without waiting for his change.
as his boots hit the wet pavement, his chest heaved.
he looked down at the paper bag in his hands, the warmth of the fresh pastry seeping through the thin paper against his gloves.
the streetlights flickered above him.
the tip of his ears visibly turned red.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
back then, he was the "world's weakest hunter." every single raid was a gamble with his survival, and more often than not, he came back with nothing but a handful of low-grade magic stones that barely covered his mother's hospital bills and a body covered in agonizing bruises.
the other hunters treated him like a joke. a meat shield, a burden, a useless extra who only existed to make their ranks look better.
he remembered sitting on a rusty park bench near the old association building, his hands shaking from cold and blood loss, staring at his torn sneakers.
he’d been so hungry that his stomach felt like it was eating itself, but he hadn't had a single won to his name after buying potions.
but then, a shadow had fallen over him.
he flinched, expecting another hunter coming to mock him or tell him to clear out of the way.
but instead, a gentle and warm hand had extended into his blurry line of sight. held between two fingers was a neatly wrapped piece of bread.
"you alright, kid?" a voice had called out.
it was [reader]. (don't ask why he knew your name)
she’d been wearing a mismatched winter coat, her cheeks flushed pink from the biting wind, looking at him not with the disgust or pity he was so used to, but with kindness he didn't know if he deserves.
she didn't know he was a hunter, she just saw a miserable teenager who looked like he was about to fall apart.
she’d shoved the bread into his hands, gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder and told him to eat before he froze to death.
to her, it was probably just a random act of charity on a random tuesday.
but to jinwoo, it was the only thing that had kept him from quitting entirely.
standing under the dim streetlight, the shadow monarch let out a breathy laugh that turned into a cloud of vapor in the cold air.
...i haven't forgotten you, he thought, his fingers tightening slightly around the paper bag. i thought i moved on from you. but truth to be told, i spent every waking moment thinking about you. i thought i'll eventually forget about you as time ticks, but the pain in my chest only grew stronger.
he honestly believed that as time ticked forward and his power grew to these absurd, god-like levels, those old human attachments would just fade away into the background.
he thought he’d eventually forget the small face of a girl from his human days as the system rewrote his body.
but the strange and aching pain in his chest only grew stronger every time he remembered that park bench.
he looked back at the glowing yellow sign of the bakery in the distance.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
the next afternoon, the sung family’s new mansion, which was a sprawling, ridiculously expensive piece of modern architecture situated in one of the most exclusive districts in seoul, was relatively quiet. (save for the sound of sung jinah's sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floors)
jinwoo stood in front of the massive, floor to length mirror in the main hallway.
he had been standing there for fifteen minutes.
he adjusted the collar of his black jacket. then he unadjusted it. then he ran a hand through his dark hair, checking if the strands fell exactly the way he wanted them to.
he smoothed down the front of a plain grey shirt that he’d spent ten minutes choosing from his closet. (an unprecedented event, considering his entire wardrobe consisted of identical black hoodies and dark cargo pants)
sung jinah walked into the hallway carrying a glass of juice, her eyes instantly landing on her brother’s bizarre behavior.
she stopped dead in her tracks, her brow furrowing as she watched the literal savior of humanity check his side profile in the glass.
"are you going on a date or something?" jinah asked, her voice dripping with immediate skepticism.
jinwoo didn't even turn around. his eyes remained fixed on his reflection as he tilted his chin slightly to the left.
then, for a split second, his usually cold and terrifyingly sharp expression softened.
his lips curved into an uncharacteristically gentle smile.
"better," jinwoo responded.
jinah physically recoiled, her face twisting into an expression of profound horror. she actually held her juice glass further away from him.
"blegh! what is with you?" she shrieked, looking baffled. "what is that face? why are you smiling like that? it looks creepy on you, stop it!"
jinwoo’s expression instantly snapped back to his default deadpan, his eyes cutting to his sister with his usual blunt. "it's my handsome face."
"it is not a handsome face! you look like you’ve been possessed by a low level romantic comedy monster," jinah countered, crossing her arms and stepping closer to inspect him. "seriously, are you really meeting a woman? is that why you're wearing a shirt that doesn't have a zipper from the hunters association?"
"there's some food i left on the fridge. i'm off," jinwoo said, completely ignoring her questions.
before jinah could throw her slippers at him or demand more details, the shadows around his boots lengthened, wrapping around his ankles like liquid ink. with a swift movement, he stepped back into the darkness as he vanished from the hallway.
"hey! get back here and answer me!" jinah yelled at the empty space before stamping her foot.
she muttered, "gross."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
meanwhile, in a completely different part of seoul, the national news network was currently experiencing a minor existential crisis over the country's strongest hunter.
the wide holographic television screen inside the hunters association headquarters was playing a viral video clip on a continuous loop.
the footage, captured by a grainy smartphone camera from across a street, showed hunter sung jinwoo.
the ruthless and savage hunter who had recently slaughtered an entire army of giants without breaking a sweat, was standing perfectly, politely in line at a tiny bakery.
he looked gigantic compared to the elderly women waiting in front of him, his head nearly touching the low doorframe, but he was holding his little paper bag with the exact same care one might use to handle a fragile s-rank artifact.
"and in recent hunter news," the anchorwoman on screen announced, her expression a mix of professional gravity and amusement, "national level hunter sung jinwoo has been spotted frequenting a small local establishment in the district every single night at exactly nine-fifty evening. citizens have noted that despite his cool and savage personality on the battlefield, his dedication to support local small businesses has been deeply endearing to the citizens of the public..."
inside the main office, chief woo jin-chul was currently massaging his temples so hard his knuckles were turning white.
around him, three different high ranking monitors were furiously typing away on their laptops, surrounded by stacks of satellite maps and mana detection reports.
"have we checked the lines beneath the bakery?" jin-chul asked, his voice sounding incredibly hollow. "is there any trace of a hidden dungeon gate or a high concentration mana vein under the flour storage?"
"sir, we’ve run three separate magical scans on the property," a monitor replied, sweating profusely under his glasses. "there is absolutely zero magical activity. it is just an ordinary bakery that specializes in traditional sweet buns and milk bread. the owner is a sixty year old grandmother who has no awakening history whatsoever."
jin-chul let out aragged sigh, his fingers sliding down to pinch the bridge of his nose. "then why... why does hunter sung jinwoo go there every single night after clearing high-rank gates? does he suspect an infiltration? is he using it as a tactical base of operations that we don't understand?"
"we don't know, chief! but the public loves it! sales for crumble buns have gone up by four hundred percent citywide because people think it's part of an s-rank training diet!"
"..."
jin-chul stared at the screen, where the video showed jinwoo carefully walking out of the shop with his small paper bag.
hunter sung jinwoo... just what kind of grand strategy are you planning in that bakery?
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
back at ppang bakery, the grand strategy was currently involving two part-time college students peering through the small circular glass window of the kitchen door while whispering furiously.
"i'm telling you, it's him!" the first coworker, danielle, whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden doorframe. "look at the shoulders! look at the way the light reflects off his jacket! that's the sung! jin! woo! standing by the red bean display, in the flesh!"
[reader] let out a soft laugh, her hands busy wiping down the marble counter with a damp cloth. "guys, stop staring through the glass, you're going to smudge it. and besides, he’s just a customer. you ought to be more professional."
"a customer who could flatten the city with his pinky finger!" the other coworker, haerin, joined in, her eyes wide as she elbowed [reader] in the ribs.
"he’s been coming in here every single night for the past two weeks at exactly the same time. he doesn't even look at the menu boards, he doesn't check the daily specials, nothing! he just stands there like a giant statue and steals looks at you while you're packing his order." haerin whispers the last sentence rather teasingly.
[reader] felt a sudden warmth creep up her neck, but she quickly shook her head, tossing the cloth into the sink. "he does not look at me. he's an s-rank hunter, why would he care about a temporary worker?"
"you dummy." minji hissed, pulling [reader] toward the door to make her look. "if you ask me, i think he might have a crush on you. he only buys that stupid, dry crumble bun that nobody else touches just so he has an excuse to stand at your register for thirty seconds."
"that's ridiculous," [reader] muttered, though her chest gave a fluttery twitch.
before she could argue further, the brass bell above the main door gave its familiar chime.
"good luck!" her coworkers whisper yelled. instantly scrambling back into the kitchen like frightened mice, leaving [reader] alone behind the counter.
she straightened her apron and looked up.
sure enough, sung jinwoo stepped inside.
the heated air of the shop blew his dark bangs back slightly, revealing those very sharp and features striking eyes that usually looked like they were staring into the abyss. tonight, though, he looked slightly less intimidating. his hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he approached the register with a slow stride.
"welcome to ppang bakery," [reader] said, her voice naturally dropping into a tone she used for everyone.
jinwoo stopped on the designated floor mat.
he didn't say anything at first, his gaze fixing onto her face for a second before his eyes darted down to the corner of the display counter where the last soboro-ppang of the day was resting.
he held up a single finger.
"one crumble bun to go," [reader] repeated with a smile, already reaching for the metal tongs. "you know, if you like these so much, i could ask the baker to make a fresh batch earlier in the day so they aren't so crunchy by the time you get here."
jinwoo’s throat clicked as he swallowed. "no," he muttered, his voice surprisingly deep in the small space. "this one is fine."
[reader] hummed softly, sliding the pastry into the white paper bag.
she turned back around, holding the top of the bag with her fingers and extended it across the wooden counter. "that'll be two thousand won, please."
jinwoo reached out his left hand to take the bag.
he wasn't wearing his gloves tonight, leaving his long and pale fingers bare. as he grasped the paper, his skin accidentally brushed against the back of her hand—just a brief, momentary contact of warm skin against his rough, battle-hardened, mana-infused knuckles.
the effect was instantaneous.
the terrifying shadow monarch—the man who didn't even blink when a demon king tried to sever his head from his shoulders—instantly flushed a light pink from his collar all the way to the tips of his ears.
his fingers jerked slightly, nearly dropping the bag before he caught it with a clumsy grip that was uncharacteristic of an s-rank hunter.
[reader] blinked, startled by the sudden heat radiating from him. "oh, are you—"
"thank you," jinwoo choked out, his voice sounding about an octave higher than usual.
without waiting for his receipt, without even checking if he had handed her the right amount of cash, the man practically spun on his heel and bolted out of the glass door so fast the brass bell didn't even have time to finish its chime.
[reader] stood behind the register, her own hand tingling where their fingers had touched, her heart suddenly racing against her ribs as she watched his tall silhouette disappear down the dark street. maybe... danielle wasn't entirely crazy after all.
outside, the cold night air immediately hit jinwoo's burning face, but he didn't use his shadows to vanish right away this time. instead, his heavy boots stopped just across the narrow street, right under the dim and flickering amber glow of an old lamppost.
he exhaled a quiet cloud of white vapor into the freezing atmosphere.
through the pristine glass window of ppang bakery, he could see her perfectly.
the golden light inside the shop framed her like a painting as she began the quiet routine of closing up, sweeping the floor and wiping down the empty wooden pastry trays with unhurried movements.
slowly, jinwoo reached into the small white paper bag.
his long fingers pulled out the old-school soboro-ppang, its bumpy streusel topping shedding a few sweet crumbs onto his dark sleeve. he brought the pastry to his lips and took a bite.
the outer crust was slightly dry from sitting out all evening, exactly as a neglected crumble bun usually was, but as he chewed, the familiar texture melted with the comforting taste of sweet peanut butter and sugar.
he kept his eyes fixed on her through the glass, watching the gentle way she smiled to herself while flipping the sign on the door to closed.
and although a crumble bun was usually sweet, it tasted even sweeter when looking at her.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
[1] in korea, having an overwhelming crush means your heart is buseojida (부서지다) literally crumbling into pieces out of nervousness.
[a/n]: another os that was rotting in my drafts (ᵕ•́ -•̀)
