Taesung sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the glow of the afternoon sun pouring through the blinds. His muscles ached, each breath sharp with the reminder of battle. Blood had dried in a thin line along his jaw, and the cut on his side pulsed with every movement. But he was alive.
He hadn't meant to come so close to dying. Again.
A hand slid through his damp hair as he sighed and looked around his small studio apartment. It was simple. Clean. Functional. A single bed, a desk with an old laptop, and a small closet barely big enough for his jackets. He dropped the towel around his neck and walked toward the bathroom.
The face in the mirror looked just like it always had—sharp eyes, unreadable expression, and a jaw that never softened. But there was something different now. Something lurking in the gaze. The Rift changed people. It made killers out of the unprepared. Survivors out of the broken.
After a long, hot shower, Taesung cleaned his wounds and opened his system.
> [Skill Shop]
[Inventory]
[System Points: 7,340]
He had gained more than he expected during that last run.
> [Items Available for Purchase:]
[Obsidian Dagger – 2,500 Points]
A lightweight blade forged from Riftstone. Enhanced durability and lethality.
[Recovery Potion x1 – 400 Points]
[Silent Step (Passive Skill) – 5,000 Points]
Reduces noise when moving. Greatly enhances stealth.
Taesung didn't hesitate. He purchased the Obsidian Dagger and one Recovery Potion. A slight hum filled the room as a glowing sigil formed in the air before him. The dagger dropped into his palm, perfectly balanced, its edge black and gleaming like polished glass.
He gripped it. It felt right.
With the potion stored in his inventory, he dressed simply—black hoodie, jeans, and a dark baseball cap. As he slipped on his shoes, his phone vibrated. A message from his mother.
"Are you free today?"
He stared at the screen for a moment.
Then he typed:
"On my way."
The walk to his mother's apartment took about fifteen minutes. It was in a quiet neighborhood, low-rise buildings and tree-lined sidewalks. The kind of place that hadn't changed much in the past decade. The same old corner store still stood, still selling the same cheap kimbap and bottled coffee.
When he arrived at the door, he hesitated.
Then knocked.
The door opened quickly.
"You should have called before coming—oh," she blinked, then smiled. "You look tired."
"I am," he said, stepping inside.
The smell hit him immediately—soy sauce, garlic, and simmering beef broth. Home.
"You've lost weight," she said, her hands already reaching for his face. "You're pale too. Are you eating? Don't lie."
"I eat," Taesung muttered.
His mother snorted. "Ramen and coffee don't count."
He sat at the small kitchen table as she bustled around, bringing him soup, rice, and side dishes. He didn't argue. He was starving.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of him eating and her quietly watching.
"I saw you on the news," she said suddenly.
He paused.
"You were in that Rift incident, weren't you? The one in Mapo."
Taesung didn't look up. "Yeah."
Her voice dropped. "Did you kill anyone?"
He didn't answer.
She sighed. "I just… I wish you'd pick something else. Anything else."
"This is the only thing I'm good at."
"Don't say that. You were always smart. You used to draw, remember? You wanted to be a designer."
"That was before," he said, finishing his soup. "Things change."
She didn't argue this time. Instead, she picked up his empty bowl and went to the sink. The clatter of water and dishes filled the silence for a while.
Then she said it, casually. Too casually.
"Your sister's getting married."
Taesung blinked.
"What?"
"She's getting married next month. She asked me not to tell you yet, but I figured you should hear it from me before you see it online or something."
He leaned back in the chair.
"I didn't even know she was seeing anyone."
"Because you never call. She was scared you'd disapprove."
"Why would I disapprove?"
His mother gave him a look. "Because it's you, Taesung. You're protective. She didn't want to deal with all that. She just wants to be happy."
Taesung was quiet for a long time.
"What's he like?" he asked.
"Kind. A little awkward. But stable. He treats her well. That's what matters."
He nodded slowly.
"I'm not angry," he said at last.
His mother tilted her head. "No?"
"I just… didn't expect it. That's all."
"Life doesn't wait, you know. Just because you're stuck in a Rift somewhere doesn't mean the rest of us aren't moving on."
That stung, a little. But it was true.
He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the quiet street. Kids played near a parked car. A man jogged by, earbuds in. Just normal life.
"I'll go," he said. "To the wedding."
His mother turned, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah. If she wants me there."
"She does. She's just afraid you'll be… distant."
"I am distant," he said.
"Then maybe it's time you weren't."
Later, as he stepped out of the building and into the cool evening, Taesung pulled his hood over his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.
The streets were quieter now. The wind carried the smell of fried food from a nearby stall.
His sister. Getting married.
He remembered when she was little—crying over a broken toy, clinging to him during thunderstorms, hiding behind his legs whenever she was scared. And now she was moving forward. Building something.
What was he building?
A kill count?
He stopped walking.
A Rift had opened not far from here last week. He'd seen the news. A D-rank, already cleared, but the area still shimmered with residual energy. He didn't go near it. Not today.
Today was a reminder.
That there was a world outside the system window.
That people still lived.
Still loved.
Still dreamed.
Back in his apartment, Taesung sat on the bed and looked at the new dagger on his desk.
He reached out, picked it up, and studied the edge. Still flawless.
Then he leaned back, resting against the wall, eyes closed.
He wasn't ready to die.
Not yet.
And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't ready to live like this either.
But the war wasn't over.
The thing he felt in the Rift—that pressure, that presence—still haunted him.
Something was coming.
And he had to be ready.