Chapter 1: Just Another Ordinary Day

Morning sunlight spilled across the rooftops of Seoul, casting a golden glow on the quiet streets. The city was alive with its usual rhythm—cars honking, birds chirping, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifting from the nearby bakery. Laughing of the children mixed with the sound of the vehicles. 

" Oh crap! I am late today."

Songwoo burst out of his room, half-dressed, and took a piece of bread in his mouth. He is totally messy. His black hair leans to his eyes, unbuttoned shirt , his backpack open, and yet somehow… he was grinning like a fool.

"Aaah brother! Again late for school?"

Songwoo's little sister stare at him with disappointing.

"bleeeh. Just mind your own business miss little perfect."

Unlike his, his little sister try to do her things too perfectly. She has everything organized and neat.

" I'm leaving "

" Be careful on your way" His father shouted from the dining table. He is an average business man, who try hard to make his family happy.

The street buzzed with morning life. Students walking, cars honking, neighbors chatting.

Songwoo jogged toward the bus stop, headphones on, music blasting in his ears.

Somehow he make it in time.

"Bro, you really came running with toast in your mouth?"His best friend, Jihyun, raised an eyebrow.

Songwoo laughed. "Hey, it works in anime. Maybe I'll meet my fated girlfriend if I turn a corner fast enough!"

"Or faceplant."

"You have no sense of drama, Jihyun."

"huh! Look who is talking?"

Songwoo was an important figure in his class. He is friendly to everyone.

Class has started. Classes were the usual blur—Math, Literature, half-sleeping in History. He doodled zombies in the margins of his notebook.

During lunch, he showed Jihyun a new manga."This one's about a guy who survives a zombie apocalypse with a baseball bat and cooking skills."

Jihyun rolled his eyes. "You seriously think you'd survive?"

Songwoo leaned back with a smirk. "Bro, I practice sword fighting."

"You mean hitting trees with a stick?"

"Training."

In evening, after the bell rang, he rush out as always.

Sunset painted the sky orange as Songwoo entered the quiet martial arts studio. His old wooden sword rested near the racks.

He trained alone—swings, footwork, breathing. It was meditative. His secret haven.

He didn't need to be the best. He just wanted to feel strong… just in case.

He always late at home because of that.

That night, Songwoo had dinner with his parents. Songwoo set his chopsticks down with a sigh, enjoying the satisfaction of a full stomach. The evening was quiet, the sounds of family chatter filling the air. But something was off tonight. His mom, who had been strangely quiet throughout the meal, finally spoke up.

"Songwoo, we need to talk."Her voice was calm, but there was something stern about it that made his stomach twist. He turned his head, half-expecting the conversation to go in a familiar direction.

"About what?" He tried to act casual, but there was an edge of defensiveness in his tone. He could already feel where this was heading.

"About your sword practice. "She placed her chopsticks down, looking him in the eye. "You've been spending more time with that sword than with your schoolwork. And it's affecting your grades."

Songwoo frowned, his grip tightening around his chopsticks. "I'm doing fine in school," he replied, trying to brush it off. "I still study, just not as much. I have everything under control."

His mother shook her head, her expression growing more serious. "It's not just about getting by, Songwoo. It's about your future. You need to focus on your studies if you want to make something of yourself."

"I am making something of myself," Songwoo snapped, his voice rising. "I've been practicing sword fighting because it's something I love. It's important to me."

His mother's eyes narrowed. "But it's just a hobby, Songwoo. You can't live off a hobby. Sword fighting isn't going to pay your bills or help you get into a good university."

Songwoo stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Why do you always say that? You don't understand. I don't want to be stuck in a classroom, memorizing stuff that doesn't matter to me. Sword fighting is what I want to do!"

His mother stood too, her voice shaking with frustration. "What you want doesn't matter right now. You're not a child anymore. You need to grow up and take responsibility. Your future depends on it!"

"I'm already responsible!" Songwoo shouted back. "I take care of my practice, I study enough, and I help around the house when I can! Why can't you just support me for once?"

His mom's face softened slightly, but her disappointment was still clear. "I'm not stopping you from doing what you love, but you need to find balance. You're losing sight of what really matters."

Songwoo clenched his fists. "You don't get it. Sword fighting matters to me. It's not just a hobby—it's my passion!"

His mom's face hardened again. "I'm doing this because I care about you. You can't keep ignoring your responsibilities just to chase something that will never lead anywhere."

Songwoo's heart pounded in his chest. The room felt suffocating. He turned, walking toward the door. "I'm going for a walk," he muttered, voice tight with anger and frustration.

His mom called after him, but he didn't stop. The door slammed behind him

He lay on his bed and try to fall asleep

As he drifted to sleep, the air around him grew strangely cold.The lights flickered.And in the silence of night, something pulled him away.

He never woke up in his bed again.

A cold wind brushed against his skin. Songwoo's eyes fluttered open.

The sky above was gray—thick clouds swirling like ash in the air. He blinked. Once. Twice. Then sat up slowly, his head pounding.

"…What the hell…?"

He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even inside. He was lying on hard concrete… on the edge of a rooftop.

The buildings around him were unfamiliar—tall, cracked, and broken like forgotten ruins. Smoke drifted from distant fires. Cars were overturned. Windows shattered. The city was silent… too silent.

Songwoo's heart thudded in his chest as he stumbled to his feet.

"Is this… a dream? No way this is real! It's not seoul."