Kang-Joon woke before his alarm, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for several seconds before memory aligned itself properly. The dorm room was dim, curtains half-drawn, pale sunlight leaking through the narrow gap. Someone on the other side of the room shifted in their sleep.
He sat up slowly.
His body felt… normal.
No sharp pain in his chest. No lingering dizziness. No sense that his limbs were lagging half a second behind his thoughts.
That, too, felt wrong.
In his previous regressions, the first days had always been filled with a strange urgency. A need to hurry, to prepare, to fix something before it broke. This time, the absence of that pressure felt heavier than panic ever had.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood.
At the edge of his awareness, a small line of text hovered.
[Do-Hyun — Will to Exist: 60%]
It didn't blink.
It didn't warn him.
It simply existed.
