Chapter 1: The Mirror of Fate

Seung-Jin had always seen time as a relentless current, a force that swept everything in its path with indifference, offering no mercy, no pause. The same old cycle spun day after day—lectures in the same dull classrooms, repetitive conversations with classmates, and the constant pressure of his family's expectations. They had carved out a future for him that felt as if it were already written in stone—unshakable, unchangeable, inevitable. A future that was anything but his own.

But that night—the night everything began to unravel—he had no way of knowing that fate had something far darker in store for him.

The cold of autumn had already settled over Seoul, the crispness in the air biting through his jacket as he walked aimlessly through the city. The evening was quieter than usual, a silence hanging in the streets, as though the world itself was waiting for something to happen. Seung-Jin had no destination in mind, his thoughts lost in the haze of frustration and confusion. He wandered without purpose, letting his feet guide him through the darkened streets until he found himself in a part of the city he had never been to before.

The alley seemed ordinary at first glance—a narrow, poorly lit path wedged between two buildings—but something about it caught his attention. The further he went, the more out of place it felt, as if the very fabric of reality had begun to warp. It was as though time itself had slowed, each step echoing too loudly in the growing stillness around him. The alley stretched unnaturally, as though it existed on the edge of his awareness, neither fully real nor entirely imagined.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked on a strange object at the far end of the passage—a mirror. It was tall, framed in dark wood that was carved with symbols and runes that were both intricate and unsettling. The glass was cloudy, as though time itself had stained it, and yet there was something mesmerizing about it, as if it held secrets that could never be told. 

For a moment, Seung-Jin hesitated, an unspoken warning prickling at the back of his mind. The air grew heavier, thick with the promise of something unknown. But then, as though drawn by an invisible force, his hand reached out to touch the surface of the mirror.

The moment his fingers brushed against the glass, the world around him shuddered. 

It was as if reality itself had torn open, the very threads of the universe unraveling before him. His heart raced, his breath shallow and panicked, but before he could pull away, a violent surge of memories flooded into his mind—visions of places he had never been, faces he had never seen, and emotions so raw that they threatened to consume him.

Then, as suddenly as the rush had started, the world shifted.

Seung-Jin's eyes snapped open to find himself standing in the very same place, but everything around him was... different. **Unfamiliar.** The Gyeongbokgung Palace, once a beacon of history, stood before him in ruins—its grand walls cracked and broken, crumbling under the weight of destruction. The air was thick with smoke, the sharp scent of burning wood and flesh lingering in the air. The familiar beauty of the palace grounds was gone, replaced by an unsettling, eerie silence, broken only by the distant sounds of clashing swords and the screams of warriors.

His heart thundered in his chest as he looked around, struggling to grasp what was happening. The ground beneath his feet felt unfamiliar, the soil hard and uneven. The once-pristine stone pathways were cracked and stained with blood, and the beautiful gardens that had once flourished here had been turned into a graveyard of charred remains.

**And yet, there was something far more disconcerting—** 

He was not alone.

A younger version of himself stood amidst the chaos, his face set with a fierce determination, though the weight of battle clearly wore on him. The boy's eyes were sharp, narrowed in concentration, scanning the ruins with a soldier's precision. His hands were stained with blood, the weight of a weapon heavy in his grip. Seung-Jin felt his breath hitch—this was him, yet it was not. He had never known this Seung-Jin. The man in the midst of battle was hardened, experienced, and anything but the timid college student he knew himself to be.

The sounds of battle grew louder. The clash of metal against metal, the cries of the wounded, and the rhythmic pounding of boots on stone all merged into a cacophony of chaos. The distant thunder of cannon fire vibrated through the air, and the smell of burning flesh crept into his nostrils. He could feel it—the weight of this moment—pressing down on him, as if the world itself was collapsing in on him.

Through the smoke and madness, he saw them—**the invaders.**

Their armor gleamed under the blood-red sky, their movements sharp and deliberate, as though they were the hand of fate itself. Their faces were concealed behind cold, emotionless masks, their eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. There was something about them—something that felt unnatural, as if they were not just soldiers, but the harbingers of a new age, the conquerors of this world. 

Seung-Jin's vision blurred as he watched the younger version of himself fight with an intensity he had never known, his every strike a calculated motion, his body moving with the fluid grace of someone who had fought countless battles before. But in his eyes, Seung-Jin saw something else—a deep, unshakable resolve. This was a man who had seen too much, who had lost too much, and who would stop at nothing to protect what remained.

The battlefield spun around him, and suddenly, Seung-Jin was thrown back—his mind torn between realities. The world around him began to fragment and dissolve, as though the very fabric of time was folding in on itself. The vision wavered, and his surroundings shifted again. The palace grounds were no longer the center of battle. Now, he found himself in a desolate landscape, vast and endless. A landscape that seemed to stretch out into infinity—an ancient world where cities lay in ruin, forests stood tall but silent, and mountains rose like giants in the distance.

And there, amidst the silence, the voice came again—**whispering, all-knowing.**

**"This is the world that could have been… and the one you may yet shape."**

Seung-Jin's chest tightened with a mixture of dread and fascination. This voice—this presence—was not merely a figment of his imagination. It was as if the very essence of the mirror had reached into him, pulling him toward something he could not understand. He felt the weight of a truth far heavier than anything he had ever known.

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, the vision began to crack, splintering like glass. The ground beneath him quaked, and the sky above him darkened, as if the universe itself was turning against him. Time, space, and reality were no longer distinct from one another. They bled together, fused into an incomprehensible mess of shifting moments and broken fragments.

With a final, deafening crash, Seung-Jin found himself back in the alley, his fingers still pressed against the surface of the mirror. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding violently in his chest. The cold night air wrapped around him, grounding him in a reality he wasn't sure he could trust anymore.

The mirror was still there, its surface dark and mysterious, reflecting not just his image but something deeper, something darker—a glimpse into the future that could be his, or a past that had never been. The symbols on the frame seemed to pulse with a rhythm that was not of this world, beckoning him to take one more step.

He could feel it now—the pull of the unknown, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. The mirror had shown him a truth beyond time, and he knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

The world had changed. 

And so had he. 

Seung-Jin took a breath, steadying himself, and looked into the mirror once more. His reflection rippled, distorted like the surface of a pond disturbed by an unseen force. But this time, he did not hesitate. He reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

This was his choice now. Would he succumb to the overwhelming tides of fate, or would he seize the power to shape it, to reshape time itself?

The mirror answered his call, and as his fingers made contact once again, Seung-Jin knew—his journey into the heart of shifting realities had only just begun.