Everything the Leeds-born talent truly desired to do was practice the game.
A sporting bug, developed at the age of three with the help of a small snooker set on his home's central table in his Leeds home, would lead to a pro playing days that saw him win six major trophies in a six-year span.
The present year marks two decades since the beloved Hunter passed away from cancer, mere days prior to his twenty-eighth birthday.
But despite the tragic departure of a once-in-a-generation player that rose above the sport he adored, his legacy and impact on the sport and those who knew him persist as strong as ever.
"It was impossible to foresee in a million years the boy would become a professional snooker player," Kristina Hunter states.
"Yet he just loved it."
Alan Hunter remembers how his son "wasn't bothered about anything else" except for snooker as a youth.
"He was relentless," he adds. "He competed every night after school."
After successfully badgering his dad to take him to a nearby hall to play on professional-standard tables at the age of eight, the aspiring talent made the leap from home play with great skill.
His mercurial talent would be developed by the former world title holder Joe Johnson, from neighbouring Bradford, at a now closed venue in the Leeds district of Yeadon.
With his family's urging to do his homework increasingly falling on deaf ears as practice took priority, his parents took the "chance" of taking Hunter out of school at the fourteen years old to fully dedicate himself to building a career in the game.
It proved a masterstroke. Within half a decade, their still-teenage son had won his maior professional trophy, the Welsh Open of 1998.
Considered one of snooker's toughest events to win because of the presence of only the top competitors, Hunter won on three occasions, in 2001, 2002 and 2004.
But for all his success on the table, away from the game Hunter's down-to-earth charisma never deserted him.
"His demeanor was excellent did Paul," Alan says. "He got on with everybody."
"When encountering him you'd like him," Kristina adds. "He brought joy. He'd make you relaxed."
Hunter's widow Lindsey, with whom he had a child, describes him as an "amazing, young cheeky beautiful soul" who was "humorous, caring" and "typically the final guest at the party".
With his natural likability, handsome features and honest interview style, not to mention his prodigious ability, Hunter quickly became snooker's leading figure for the new millennium.
No wonder then, that he was nicknamed 'A Sporting Icon'.
In the mid-2000s, a year that should have been the peak of his powers, Hunter was found to have cancer and would later undergo cancer therapy.
Multiple stories from across the professional tour attest to the man's extraordinary willingness to keep promises to exhibitions, events and press interviews, all while going through treatment.
Despite difficult symptoms, Hunter continued to compete through the illness and received a rapturous applause at The Crucible Theatre when he played at the World Championships that year.
When he passed away in October 2006, snooker's tight community lost one of its most popular brothers.
"It is tragic," Kristina says. "It is a terrible thing for any mum and dad to suffer such a loss."
Hunter's true impact would be felt not in palaces and castles but in local sports centers across the UK.
The Paul Hunter Foundation, set up before his death, would provide accessible training to young people all over the country.
The initiative was so successful that, according to reports, issues with young people in some areas plummeted.
"The aim remained for a program to help offer a constructive activity," one coach said.
The Foundation helped establish the basis for a major coaching programme, which has extended playing opportunities to children globally.
"He would have embraced what we've done with the sport and where it is today," a leading figure in the sport stated.
Classic footage of their son's matches via the internet help his parents stay "in touch with his memory".
"I can access it and I can watch Paul anytime," Kristina says. "It's a comfort!"
"We are happy to speak about Paul," she concludes. "Initially it was painful, but I'd rather somebody mention him than him not be mentioned at all."
Even though he never won the World Championship, the widespread belief that Hunter would have gone on to lift snooker's greatest prize is a part of the sport's legend.
The Masters, the competition with which he is most associated, commences later this month. The winner will lift the memorial cup.
But for all his achievements, 20 years after his death it is Paul Hunter's character, as much his dazzling snooker ability, that will ensure he is forever celebrated.
Elara Vance is a tech journalist with over a decade of experience covering emerging technologies and consumer electronics.