Jisun no longer knew what to do.
The world moved too quickly around him — a blur of people, obligations, and battles — until he finally realized just how deep the rut was he'd dug for himself.
Training. Missions. Home.
Repeat.
And repeat.
And repeat.
He stood still in the middle of a wide avenue, frozen in place. Around him, people flowed like a river, their faces smudged with shadow, their features indistinguishable.
The sun dipped and rose in moments, days passed in flickers. The crowd blurred into streaks of noise and movement — and not a single person looked back at him.
The only places where he felt even remotely human anymore:
—in the shower,
—on his bed,
—at the kitchen table.
And even there, the camera of his mind sped up. Each cycle faster. Each repetition darker.