°• When the world unfold

Everything went black.

Not sleep. Not unconsciousness. Just a clean, sterile black like someone had turned off the world with a single switch.

Then---

Bzzt.

○•● ●•○

Coco wasn't sure if she heard it or felt it. The words vibrated in her bones, brushing against the edge of thought like a whisper through a cracked window. She didn't know where she was. Only that she was floating weightless, suspended in an infinite void, her body neither falling nor flying.

She opened her eyes.

But there was nothing.

No stars. No floor. No horizon. Just endless, suffocating dark. Except there it was. A single light, hovering a few feet in front of her. A holographic box, glowing a soft blue, gently pulsing like a heartbeat. The kind of futuristic UI you'd see in a sci-fi movie or some MMORPG she'd downloaded once and quit after five minutes.

Two lines blinked into existence on the screen.

hell, You're going to see the sole

reason for your existence

Coco's eyes widened. Her heart clenched.

She tried to speak "What the hell is this?" but her mouth wouldn't move. Her voice was trapped somewhere in her throat, like her very ability to exist here was limited.

She reached for the screen instead, pressing her fingers against it. It rippled under her touch like glass and water mixed into one. She tapped again. Then harder. Then slammed her palm against it, panic prickling up her spine.

Nothing changed. Then the black around her began to shimmer shifting, twisting. Like static bleeding into reality.

She gasped as a new shape took form: threads of glowing white and golden data, spiraling around her like a storm. Except they weren't just numbers. They weren't code.

They were… memories. Her memories.

Moments flickered past like sparks—her mother spinning her in circles when she was six, her quiet first day of middle school, sitting alone in class with a forced smile. Skipping her first college lecture. Ripping up a rejection letter. Leaving campus with her backpack half-zipped. Submitting job applications. Getting no replies. Sitting at the pachinko machine. Arguing in the kitchen. Her voice breaking "I'm trying!" and her mother's words cutting through it all "Maybe I don't love you anymore."

Coco's breath hitched.

"No- no, stop- " she whispered, but no sound came out.

She spun around, trying to look away, but it was all around her. The data surrounded her like a cage made of her own life.

Her own pain.

Her failures.

And no matter how fast she turned, no matter how hard she tried to shut her eyes, it kept going. Every humiliation. Every mistake. Every moment she'd ever wanted to forget. Her pulse raced. Her hands trembled. Her chest heaved with breath she couldn't control.

What is this?

Why am I here?

Why am I being shown this?

And then, in front of her, the hologram pulsed again. Slowly. Almost… comfortingly.

Coco's heart dropped.

The data storm thickened, spinning faster, closing in. Coco tried to scream, to run, to wake up but her body was locked in place, a prisoner of her own memories.

That's when she felt it.

The air thinning.

Her lungs clawed for breath, but there was nothing to inhale. No air. No gravity. Just pressure.

Her chest began to tighten. Her throat burned. Her hands flew to her neck instinctively, fingers digging in as if she could pull the air out of nothing.

Why can't I breathe- why can't I-

She choked. Gasped. Ached.

Everything started to flicker.

The hologram dimmed.

Her limbs went numb.

And then---

She woke up.

Coco bolted upright in bed with a gasp so sharp it nearly cut her lungs. Her entire body was drenched in sweat, her t-shirt clinging to her back, her hair matted to her forehead. Her breaths came in ragged gulps, like she'd just surfaced from deep underwater.

The room was bright.

Normal.

Too normal.

Her messy ceiling. Her cheap curtains. Her crumpled clothes on the floor. The faint hum of traffic outside. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled for her alarm clock.

7:03 AM.

She stared at the numbers like they might blink into something else. Her heart was still racing. Her body still cold.

She slid her legs off the bed, every step unsteady as she shuffled toward the mirror above her desk. The reflection staring back looked like her but haunted. Pale. Eyes wide and unfocused.

She touched her throat. Still there. Still breathing. Her voice was barely a whisper. "... What was that?" her eyes dropped to the floor. "That was… such a weird dream." But even as she said it, her hands didn't stop shaking.

And behind her reflection just for a split second she thought she saw the faint blue flicker of a hologram pulsing in the glass.

Still rattled from whatever that dream or trip to digital purgatory was, Coco ran her hands through her messy hair and sighed. "Get a grip, Mizuno," she muttered to herself. "You're not the chosen one in some anime. You just have stress dreams and poor life choices."

Stomach grumbling, throat dry, and mood still mildly cursed, she opened the door and tiptoed out of her room toward the kitchen. She peeked around the corner like a spy on a stealth mission.

Her mother was there.

Of course she was.

Standing at the counter in her usual faded housecoat, sipping tea like she hadn't emotionally obliterated Coco the night before. Coco froze mid-step. Her first instinct was to retreat and pretend she didn't exist, but her parched throat overruled her pride.

She shuffled in awkwardly, eyes averted like a dog who'd peed on the rug.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, and Coco braced herself but her voice was unexpectedly soft.

"…About last night," she said, turning fully to face her. "I was… frustrated. Things have been hard lately, and the stress got to me. I shouldn't have said what I said. I took it out on you."

Coco blinked, cup halfway under the faucet.

Her mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That said… it still makes me angry when I know you're out gambling, Coco."

Coco raised her hands defensively, water glass in one and full guilt in the other. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry, Mom. I'm an irresponsible goblin who lost to a smug old man and got roasted by fate. I get it."

Her mom narrowed her eyes. "You really need to stop going to that pachinko place."

Coco took a sip of water and muttered, "The machines are rigged anyway."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, dearest maternal figure!"

Her mother just shook her head and went back to her tea.

Coco flopped onto the ugly floral sofa like a dramatic heroine in a bad soap opera. The cushions squeaked under her weight, and one of the springs jabbed her right in the thigh. She groaned, pulled her legs up, and cradled her mug of lukewarm tea like it was the last comfort she had left in this cruel, cruel world.

Eyes closed. Deep breath. Everything was fine.

Her mom had apologized (kind of). She had water. There were no glowing nightmare screens or memory storms. Just her, the sofa, and the hideous floral pattern that had survived three generations of poverty.

Then—

Ping.

Her eyes snapped open.

Floating three feet in front of her face was the same damn glowing hologram box. Blue light. Pixelated corners. Same soft hum.

She screamed.

Not a dignified scream. Not a scream of courage. A cartoon animal falling off a cliff kind of scream.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL—?!"

The tea mug flew out of her hands, hit the floor, and splashed across the tiles like her last shred of peace. Her mother came rushing from the kitchen in a panic.

"What? What happened?!" she yelled, eyes darting between Coco and the now very real floating screen.

Coco pointed frantically at the glowing box. "THAT! That's what happened! It's back! It was in my dream last night, Mom, it said weird stuff like 'I'll help you through this hell' and 'You're gonna see the sole reason for your existence!' And now it's just—here! In real life! While I was trying to vibe on the ugliest couch in the universe!"

Her mom blinked.

Then squinted at the empty space Coco was flailing at.

"…Coco. There's nothing there."

Coco turned to her.

Turned back to the screen.

She froze. Her eye twitched. Her mother, watching Coco gawk and panic at seemingly nothing, raised an eyebrow. She froze. Her eye twitched. The glowing blue screen floated calmly in front of her, its soft hum filling the room like it had always belonged there.

Her mother, watching Coco gawk and flail at seemingly nothing, raised an eyebrow and slowly set her tea down. "…Oh."

She leaned forward slightly. "Wait- did you just… get your System Awakening?"

Coco snapped her head toward her. "My what now?!"

Her mom's eyes widened in realization. "Coco, that screen it's your system interface! You must've awakened last night. That explains why you're seeing it now!"

Coco's face twisted somewhere between horror and disbelief. "Excuse me? what? Are you seriously telling me this glowy pop-up box is normal?"

Her mom stood up, gesturing with both hands now like she was trying to explain a recipe. "Yes, yes! It's called a System Awakening. It happens when your body or mind hits a certain threshold. emotional, mental, or even physical. The system syncs to your soul, and then you begin to see your unique interface. It helps you develop your natural skills, abilities, even latent potential. It's how people grow stronger. It's called being Systembound-"

"Okay, nope!" Coco cut in, waving her hands like she was swatting away bees. "No. That's not a thing. That's the plot of a bad light novel or some VRMMO anime. People don't just get 'systems' and 'awakenings' like we're in a game, Mom."

Her mom stared. "Coco, I have a system."

Coco stopped. Blinked. "You what?"

"I've had one for years," her mom said, calm and casual, like she was talking about a rice cooker. "It's a D-rank Cooking System. It helps me cook faster, more efficiently, and improves my flavor control. It's the reason I got the job at the restaurant."

"…Wait. What restaurant?" Coco asked, eyes narrowing.

Her mom tilted her head. "Hoshizuki Grill. I've worked there for four years."

"No, you haven't. You clean offices and sometimes pick up shifts at the convenience store-"

"I haven't done that since you were seventeen," her mom interrupted gently. "Coco, are you feeling okay? You came with me to that job interview. You were right there."

Coco's lips parted, but no sound came out.

None of this made sense.

Absolutely none of it.

And the screen in front of her kept pulsing, as if it were waiting for her to catch up.

Coco slowly lowered her hands, still staring at the screen like it might explode at any moment. Her brain was spinning, trying to piece together what was real, what was a dream, and whether she was having a full-blown breakdown or just an extraordinarily weird morning.

"…Wait," she muttered. "So… this system thing. It happens to everyone?"

Her mother nodded without hesitation. "Yes, of course. Most people awaken between the ages of thirteen and twenty-five. Sometimes earlier. It's not always dramatic some people wake up one morning and their system is just there. Others experience a trigger moment, like you."

Coco blinked slowly. "Everyone just… knows about this?"

"Well, yeah," her mom said, looking genuinely puzzled. "It's one of the first things we teach kids in school. You know, the basic types of systems, how to recognize pre-awakening signs, how to navigate early sync"

Her voice slowed as she caught the look on Coco's face.

"…Coco. Don't tell me you forgot all that."

Coco stared at her like she'd grown three heads. "I never learned any of this. No one ever mentioned systems. Not once."

Her mom's brows furrowed in confusion. "But what are you talking about? You studied this in kindergarten. You used to come home excited about it! You had that little cardboard mock system with the colored tabs. You and your neighbor even roleplayed 'System Scouts' together every day after class."

"I've literally never heard any of those words in my life," Coco said flatly.

Her mother's expression shifted from confusion to something more serious concerned, almost afraid.

"…Coco, are you sure you're okay? That's not just memory loss. That's" she hesitated. "That's forgetting something so basic, it would be like forgetting how to read."

Coco swallowed. Her throat felt tight again. A slow chill crept down her spine. She opened her mouth, but the only thing that came out was a quiet

"…Then where the hell have I been?"

And suddenly, that strange "dream" didn't feel like a dream anymore. Coco stared blankly at her mother, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and unease. The glowing blue interface hovered silently in front of her, still syncing. Still real.

But her brain couldn't take any more revelations.

She rubbed her temples, let out a long, tired sigh, and finally muttered, "Can we just… watch something? Anything? And not talk for like, five minutes?"

Her mom blinked, then gave a small, understanding nod. "Yeah. Sure."

She picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping it to the news channel by instinct.

And there it was.

Coco froze, her eyes going wide.

On-screen, a massive creature slithered through a crumbling cityscape—a serpent-like monster that wound around a steel skyscraper like it was nothing more than a garden pole. Its scales shimmered in the sunlight, jewel-like, glistening in deep purples and blues. Segments of its body pulsed with glowing veins of its body pulsed with glowing veins of light. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of crystalline fangs that sparked with energy.

People screamed in the background. Helicopters hovered overhead. Text scrolled at the bottom of the screen: "BREAKING: EVO SIGHTED NEAR CENTRAL DISTRICT. AUTHORITIES URGE ALL CIVILIANS TO EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

Coco sat upright. "What the f--- WHAT is that?!"

Her mother calmly took a sip of tea before answering. "That's an Evo."

Coco looked at her like she'd just announced the sky was green.

"An Evo?! What the hell is an Evo?!"

Her mom tilted her head slightly, eyes still on the screen. "Evo is short for Evolved Aberration. They're… unfortunate creatures. Beings twisted by unstable or sent by some corrupted system who likes to bring us hell."

Coco stared at the screen in horrified fascination. "And this is just… normal news?!"

Her mom shrugged. "It's rare. But not unheard of. They tend to appear near larger system concentrations. Cities mostly. The Authority usually sends response teams or some scouts to handle it."

Coco didn't even realize she was holding her breath. The news broadcast crackled with urgency, sirens blaring in the background, the camera struggling to keep focus as the massive Evo coiled tighter around the skyscraper.

Then a blur of light.

A sudden shockwave split the screen.

The camera jolted, trying to capture the movement then froze on the figure now standing atop a shattered rooftop across from the serpent.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, but elegant in posture. His snow-white hair was tousled by the wind, glowing faintly like it was catching light from within. His eyes impossibly bright, glowing like polished silver locked onto the Evo with deadly focus. In his hands was a long sword, its edge gleaming with a radiant blue light that shimmered with system code.

The Evo reared back and let out a shriek that made the speakers crackle.

And the man moved.

In a flash, he was airborne slicing through the creature's outer coils with terrifying precision. Jewel-like scales shattered mid-air like glass, exploding into shards of glittering data. He landed without even stumbling, one hand dragging the sword across the ground like it weighed nothing.

The news reporter, breathless, practically squealed.

"That's him! That's Leonard Hanne!"

The feed zoomed in, focusing on the warrior's face. Unbothered. Calm. Deadly.

"Leonard Hanne, S-Rank Scout he's here! One of the youngest ever registered in the Global Authority! He's already cleared three Class-5 Evos this year alone! We're watching a prodigy in real-time, folks this is unbelievable!"

Coco's mouth fell open slightly. "He's… real?"

Her mom chuckled beside her. "Not just real. He's one of the poster boys of the System Authority. He's a celebrity. Respected, feared, admired you name it. Kid's only twenty, too."

Coco blinked hard. "How is this the first time I'm hearing about this guy?!"

Her mom gave her a side-eye. "That system of yours must've done more than just awaken it might've dragged your whole brain out of sync."

Coco could barely tear her eyes from the screen as Leonard dashed again, slicing into the serpent's core and releasing a burst of light so bright it washed out the entire scene. And with that he have defeated the serpent. Coco's heart thudded in her chest. Her grip tightened on the arm of the sofa. She wasn't just stepping into something unknown. She was stepping into a world where people like that existed.

Coco went quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes everything else in the room feel louder the ticking of the wall clock, the faint static from the television, the soft clink of her mother's teacup on the saucer.

She didn't say anything. She just slowly stood up, eyes still distant as if the image of Leonard slicing through a skyscraper-sized Evo was burned into the back of her mind. Her hand moved almost automatically, reaching toward the wall by the door.

She grabbed her old denim jacket faded, slightly frayed at the sleeves and slipped it on.

"Mom," she said softly, her voice steady but unreadable, "I'm gonna go outside for a little bit."

Her mother looked up, surprised for a moment, but nodded. "Alright. Just… stay away from the city center, okay?"

"Yeah," Coco mumbled, already halfway out the door.

The moment she stepped outside, the morning air hit her cool, crisp, and grounding. She exhaled sharply, then broke into a run.

Not because she was panicking.

But because she needed space. Noise. Movement.

Something to match the racing of her thoughts.

This is real. All of this is real. Evos. System Awakening. Leonard Hanne superhuman anime protagonist man he's real. And I… I have a system. Whatever that means.

She turned a corner, feet pounding against the pavement.

If this is reality now… then maybe I've been handed something other people would kill for.

I could get stronger. Maybe even scout for money, like they do on the news. There's an entire industry built around this, isn't there? I could use this. I could get out of this dump. Pay off our bills. Stop being the screw-up my mom cries over when she thinks I'm asleep.

Her pace quickened.

I don't know what kind of system I have. But if it means I get another shot… maybe this is my way out.

The wind whipped through her hair, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the pounding in her chest wasn't fear.

It was something else.

The tiniest flicker of ambition.