Stray Genius

The air at dawn tasted like iron and ash.

Two days. That's how long I stayed at the community hall. A record, really. But overstaying your welcome in a world actively trying to kill you? Not the brightest idea.

Besides, I had a lead to chase.

Hidden Variables—cheat codes buried in the ruins of society. Forgotten relics that made gods out of men. Most people don't know they exist. Fewer survive trying to find one. Me? I'm just lucky enough to be genre-savvy.

The one I'm after?

The Forgotten Field Manual. Only one vague clue from the webnovel: it was with a man named Choi Jin-Ho, somewhere in the outskirts of Seoul.

Vague, I know. Like trying to find a needle in a city-wide haystack where the hay wants to eat you.

I zipped up my jacket, tightened the straps on my bag, and stepped out into the broken world, careful not to wake the others. Not that sleep came easy with the background ambiance of dying monsters echoing through the streets.

Gwacheon-Dong. That's where I'm headed. Not the fastest route, but safer than crossing the damn mountain. That's Tier 10 suicide fuel.

The city outside looked like a diorama made by a sadistic god. Roads split open like cracked skin. Buildings leaning like they'd given up standing. The smell? A mix of rot, ash, and a subtle note of existential dread.

So far, so end-of-the-world.

What I didn't expect to find—at least not so soon—were Tier 8 monsters.

Yes. Plural.

The kind of abominations that made your soul consider early retirement just from looking at them.

I dropped behind a busted sedan and peeked over.

But they weren't looking at me.

Their attention was locked on a group of survivors up ahead—twelve or so. Office workers turned makeshift rebels. Torn suits, broken glasses, DIY weapons made out of office supplies and blind hope. One guy threw a Molotov that fizzled before it even hit.

It was like watching a high school play of Apocalypse Now.

But at the center of it all stood her.

Not just standing—commanding.

She barked orders like gunshots.

"Flank left—block the alley—Minjae, that Molotov now!"

Boom. The bottle hit. Fire lit up the beast's flank. It roared, stumbled—and her pipe was already mid-swing.

Crack.

The sound echoed like a gavel slamming down judgment. The monster shrieked, reeling back. Her team moved like parts of a machine—rusty, desperate, but hers.

She didn't shout to be heard. She cut through panic like it bored her.

Short black hair clung to her sweat-slick face, eyes like twin drills boring into the chaos. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

She was the kind of person who didn't freeze when the apocalypse knocked—she made it knock again, politely, with a schedule.

[Named Character Detected]

Hayoon Lee

Class: ???

Traits: {Tactical Genius}

{Master of Warfare}

What the heck!?

[New Skill Unlocked: Observer's Insight] Detects key individuals within line of sight. Status viewable based on perception and narrative awareness.

What the hell. This skill is broken. For someone like me, information is everything.

Now that's more like it.

So I can see named characters now? Hell yeah. That's main character privilege right there. Thank you very much, God. I'll use this ability to the fullllest!

Besides two traits already? What a monster..

Hayoon wasn't just anyone. In the second arc of the webnovel, she becomes one of the warlords—the kind that conquers not by brute force, but by treating the battlefield like a chessboard. And every enemy? Just another pawn.

This was her rookie phase. And she was already outperforming 90% of humanity.

Me? I was still debating whether to eat expired tuna. (I should probably eat it tho)

I stayed hidden, weighing the odds.

Join her? Risky. She might sniff me out. Ignore her? Even dumber. She had direction. I had dumb luck and unresolved trauma.

Besides, Hayoon wasn't even a major player in the first arc. If I played it smart, I could latch on without triggering any narrative landmines.

And so— I put on the mask.

The desperate survivor. The scared straggler. A role I'd practiced in mirrors and abandoned homes.

I staggered into view, limbs trembling, face hollow.

"P-Please… let me join you... I don't want to die."

A spear nearly kissed my throat.

"Who the hell—?!"

Hayoon raised a hand. The guy hesitated. Good boy.

She studied me. Cold, calculating. Like she was already running simulations on how many ways I'd slow them down.

"Name?"

"Seolhwa Hyun," I replied, eyes wide with fake sincerity. "I—I killed a few goblins on the way here. I can fight. I'll follow orders."

The magic words.

Hayoon didn't want heroes. She wanted assets.

After a pause that lasted a heartbeat too long, she nodded.

"Fine. Stay close. Don't slow us down."

[Luck has boosted Hayoon Lee's initial trust in you.]

Thank you, high Luck stat. You beautiful, chaotic cheat.

And just like that, I was in.

A few hours later, we were clearing a building. I stayed on the sidelines, mostly helping clean up stragglers. I played the part of "useful but not threatening" like a damn pro.

Hayoon? She was a machine. Efficient. Cold. Not unkind, but practical.

She didn't give orders—she handed out survival plans. Everything she did had a reason. When someone got scratched, she was already drawing evacuation paths in the dirt with a broken tile.

I watched. Memorized. I wasn't here to bond—I was here to survive.

Still, I found myself laughing along when some guy cracked a joke about missing instant ramen. I even smiled. It was believable.

Because it had to be.

Later, as the group settled down, I stared at Hayoon from across the firelight. Tactical, selfless, sincere.

She was the kind of person this world needed.

Which made me feel like a cockroach loitering in a cathedral.

But if following her for a while gave me the chance to reach Gwacheon, to find the Forgotten Field Manual, then so be it.

I'd play the role of the harmless stray.

For now.

Kriekkk!

The familiar screech of goblins broke through the air.

Hayoon stood, her voice cutting through the fog.

"Everyone! Get into formation! Goblin raid incoming!"

I sighed and picked up my bat.

"Of course. Can't go a single damn day without being interrupted by short green bastards."

I stepped forward, fake smile gone.

Fine. I'll play your little survivor game.

But when I find the Manual?

I stop pretending.