Not the peaceful kind—
but the heavy, suffocating silence that came after something wrong had happened.
Eight bodies lay scattered across the rooftop like broken dolls. Some groaned softly. Some didn't move at all. Blood stained the concrete. A cigarette rolled near the edge, still burning, its smoke twisting into the cold afternoon air.
And in the center of it all—
Jeong lay on his back, eyes half-open, chest barely rising.
His vision blurred. Sounds came in fragments—distant footsteps, wind rushing past his ears, the faint echo of someone screaming below.
I'm… still alive?
His body screamed in pain. Every muscle felt torn. His jaw throbbed where the knee had crushed into it earlier. Blood coated his tongue.
But deeper than the pain—
Something else stirred.
A presence.
Cold. Vast. Watching.
Before Jeong could understand it, darkness swallowed him whole.
He fell.
Not downward—
but inward.
Jeong opened his eyes and found himself standing in an endless black space. No ground. No sky. Just darkness stretching forever.
Chains floated around him—massive, ancient, carved with symbols he didn't recognize. Each chain glowed faintly blue, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"What the hell… is this?"
His voice echoed strangely, as if the void itself was listening.
Then—
A sound.
Crack.
One of the chains trembled.
Blue light leaked through the fractures, spilling into the darkness like liquid flame. The temperature dropped instantly. Jeong's breath fogged.
A shadow moved behind the chains.
Large.
Coiled.
Draconic.
A single eye opened—glowing deep azure.
"Your body failed."
The voice wasn't loud, yet it crushed him. Jeong dropped to one knee instinctively, pressure slamming into his chest.
"But your instinct did not."
Jeong clenched his fists. "Who… who are you?"
The eye narrowed.
"A fragment."
"A curse."
"A weapon you are not yet worthy to wield."
The chains rattled violently.
Pain exploded inside Jeong's skull. Memories flooded in—
the rooftop, the bullies, the knee smashing his face, the laughter.
Bastard… I almost died.
The voice spoke again, colder now.
"You touched my will… without awakening."
"That alone saved you."
"Saved me?" Jeong laughed weakly. "I got my ass beaten half to death."
For a moment—
Silence.
Then the presence answered, amused.
"You survived."
"That is not the same thing."
The blue light dimmed.
"Grow stronger."
"Or next time, you die."
The eye closed.
Darkness collapsed.
Jeong gasped awake.
White ceiling.
Beeping machines.
The sharp smell of disinfectant.
Hospital.
His body jerked, pain flaring instantly. He groaned, teeth clenching.
"Easy—easy!"
A familiar voice.
Jeong turned his head slightly and saw Minho, sitting beside the bed. Crutches leaned against the wall. His face looked tired—older than it should've.
"You idiot," Minho muttered, voice shaking. "Do you know how fucked up that was?"
Jeong swallowed. "You look worse than me."
Minho snorted bitterly. "That's because you're unconscious half the time."
Silence followed.
Minho stared at his hands. "They said… eight students were found knocked out. CCTV malfunctioned. Teachers don't know what happened."
Jeong closed his eyes.
"So they're alive."
"Yeah," Minho said. "Unfortunately."
A pause.
"Jeong… what the hell happened up there?"
Jeong didn't answer immediately.
How could he explain instinct moving his body?
A voice saying game start now?
A presence watching from inside?
"I don't know," he said finally. "But… something's changed."
Minho looked at him carefully.
"Whatever it is," Minho said quietly, "those bastards won't let this go."
As if summoned by his words—
Far away, in the city's shadow—
A man stood on the edge of a skyscraper.
Black and light-gray kimono fluttered in the wind. Purple flame danced along the length of a spear resting against his shoulder.
Below him, the city pulsed with life.
Humans.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Beside him, a figure knelt—its aura unstable, lightning crackling faintly within its veins.
The puppet.
"You failed," the spear-wielder said calmly.
The puppet trembled. "He should have died."
"He almost did."
A faint smile curved the god's lips. "Which makes him interesting."
The god lifted his spear slightly.
"Remain here," he ordered. "Observe."
"And if I sense his power awakening?"
The god's eyes glowed purple.
"Erase him."
The puppet bowed deeply. "As you command."
The god turned away, gazing into the distance.
"Torvas…" he murmured.
"So you interfered after all."
Three days later.
Jeong returned to school.
Bandages wrapped his face. His knuckles were bruised. His walk wasn't steady—but his eyes were different.
Sharp.
Alert.
Whispers followed him down the corridor.
"That's him."
"Is he the one?"
"No way… he's just a loser."
Jeong ignored them.
Normal, he reminded himself.
Act normal.
A presence brushed against his senses suddenly—heavy, oppressive, like standing near a sleeping beast.
Jeong froze.
Someone passed him.
A tall man. Calm expression. Cold eyes.
Their shoulders brushed.
For a split second—
Jeong felt it.
A dragon's shadow.
Then the man walked on, disappearing into the crowd.
Jeong's heart pounded.
That wasn't human.
Class passed slowly.
Lunch break came.
And like fate itself was waiting—
Jeong stood on the rooftop again.
Eight figures emerged.
The leader stepped forward, cracking his neck.
"So," he sneered, lighting a cigarette. "You've got some balls now, huh?"
Jeong met his gaze.
"No," he said calmly. "I just stopped being scared of fuckers like you."
The rooftop went quiet.
Then laughter erupted.
The leader's face twisted. "Big mouth for a dead man."
He moved.
The leader clicked his tongue. "Lucky."
With a shrug and a smirk, he walked away. His mood seemed unusually good, leaving Jeong blinking in quiet relief.
Later, in the classroom…
Minho leaned back in his chair, a stack of notes spread across the desk. "Next lecture… exam's coming up," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "And, uh… I'm not exactly great at studying, you know?"
Jeong tilted his head, watching Minho fumble through his notes. "You're trying your best," he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Before Minho could reply, the classroom door opened, and a girl stepped in. New. Fresh. With an aura that immediately drew the attention of half the class.
Minho's eyes lit up. "Hey… wait," he said politely, standing slightly. "I want you to meet someone."
Jeong's gaze followed him, trying to place her face. Something felt… familiar.
"She's a transfer," Minho continued, glancing at Jeong. "My childhood friend. Haeun."
Jeong blinked. "Haeun…" he murmured, the name tugging at some distant memory he couldn't quite grasp. He managed a soft, "Heyy."
Before the conversation could continue, the class erupted. Cute girls and self-proclaimed school champions circled Haeun, whispering and gushing in that unmistakable high-school frenzy.
Jeong and Minho exchanged a glance. Minho muttered, "Stay calm." But the two of them, in an almost comic reflex, nudged and pushed, trying to clear a little space between themselves and the chaotic crowd. The two friends ended up bumping elbows, shoving side by side, their faces betraying the amusement of the ridiculous situation.
Haeun gave a small, polite smile, clearly unbothered by the attention, as the crowd continued to chatter and compliment.
Minho leaned closer to Jeong, whispering, "I told you… never let them swarm you like that."
Jeong chuckled, shaking his head, but then paused. His eyes drifted toward the window. Something felt off.
"Jeong… what is it?" Minho asked softly, noticing the change in his expression.
Jeong didn't answer immediately. He stared out, toward the edge of the school grounds. Something—someone—was watching. The feeling was subtle but undeniable, like a shadow brushing against his instincts.
"It's… nothing," Jeong finally said, though his eyes didn't leave the window. "Someone's out there. Watching."
Minho's brows furrowed. "Watching us?"
Jeong shook his head slightly. "I don't know. But I can feel it. Stay alert."
The classroom buzzed around them, oblivious to the quiet tension settling in at their corner. But for Jeong, for a moment, the chatter faded. Something had shifted, and he knew deep down that the calm, orderly world of the classroom was only temporary. Something bigger, darker, and far more dangerous was already observing—and waiting.
The classroom buzzed as the final bell rang. Jeong's mind felt like it was floating above, the scene slowing down as students shuffled out. Papers rustled, pens clicked, but his attention was somewhere else.
Minho slumped into his chair, his face pale. "I… I think I totally bombed it," he muttered, fingers drumming nervously on the desk.
Haeun leaned over with a sly grin, eyes glinting. "You think you failed? Please, you looked like a deer caught in headlights."
Minho froze, cheeks reddening. "Haeun!" he hissed, shoving her gently.
Jeong snorted quietly from his seat, trying not to laugh. Minho's flustered face was priceless. But Haeun wasn't done. She leaned closer, tapping her pen on his arm. "Honestly… your answers were a joke. Did you even read the questions?"
Minho's fists clenched, but before he could snap, Jeong stepped in, gently nudging Haeun back. "Hey, chill. You're going to give him a heart attack."
Haeun smirked. "He should be scared. I'm being nice right now."
Minho groaned, trying to hide his blush. "Thanks a lot," he muttered, glancing at Jeong with an exaggerated glare.
Jeong grinned, enjoying the awkward energy. But suddenly, the atmosphere shifted—the door slammed open.
Park Jae-hyun—the school's notorious bully—strode in, leather jacket creaking, cronies flanking him. His eyes immediately found Jeong, the memory of the rooftop fight burning fresh.
"Jeong," he sneered, voice low and dangerous. "Hand over the money. You know what happens if you don't."
Jeong calmly reached into his pocket. He pulled out the exact cash, the prize he had won yesterday from the game that had cost him blood, sweat, and pure focus.
He held it out slowly. The room went silent. Even Haeun paused mid-taunt, eyes widening.
Jae-hyun's jaw twitched. "Wait… you actually have it?"
Jeong nodded, deadpan. "Yep. Here. Don't spend it all in one place."
The silence lingered. Jae-hyun's cronies looked at each other, confused. One of them whispered, "Dude… what the hell?"
Even Haeun stifled a laugh, muttering under her breath, "Wow… drama queen defeated by a silent guy."
Jae-hyun snatched the money, muttering curses, but couldn't find a comeback. He stomped out, followed by his cronies, leaving an oddly peaceful silence in the room.
Minho blinked at Jeong. "How… did you just—"
Jeong shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "Sometimes, cash talks louder than fists."
Haeun elbowed Jeong playfully. "Hey, don't think you're safe. I'm still judging your fashion sense."
Jeong laughed. "You're impossible."
Haeun grinned mischievously. "Impossible? Nah. I'm adorable. You're just lucky I like funny losers."
Minho groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can't… you two are literally impossible."
Jeong smirked, leaning against the window. Suddenly, his instincts prickled—a faint, oppressive sensation, like someone watching them from outside.
"Something's… off," he muttered.
Minho peeked over. "See? This is why I hate your dramatic instincts."
Haeun leaned closer, smirking. "Or maybe… someone's checking out the adorable loser duo."
Jeong rolled his eyes, shoving her gently. "You're impossible, too."
Haeun laughed, flicking her hair. "Admit it—you love it."
Jeong shot Minho a look. "Help me, man."
Minho groaned again, but couldn't hide his smile. The three of them stood there in a weird mix of tension, humor, and awkward camaraderie.
Later, Haeun leaned closer, whispering, "By the way… we're hanging out tonight. You two better be ready."
Jeong blinked. "Uh… sure?"
He glanced out the window. The street below felt quiet—but his instincts screamed otherwise. Someone was watching. Waiting.
And deep down, Jeong knew—the calm before the storm was never really calm.