Chapter 1:The Pact That Shouldn't Exist

Seol Ji-Hwan stepped out of Incheon Airport and inhaled.

The air hit different. Not because it was Korea—because something in the world had shifted. A tilt. A hum behind reality that hadn't been there before.

The crowd moved like it had a schedule to keep. Loud, fast, overwhelming. Neon screens flashed arrival data. An old woman scolded a taxi driver. A kid in a school uniform dragged a suitcase bigger than him.

His backpack pulled on one shoulder. His phone vibrated once, then went dead.

He didn't check it.

Ji-Hwan's eyes locked on two figures near the automatic doors.

His mother—waving like she hadn't aged a day. His father—stoic, barely blinking, but with the familiar calm that said I missed you without needing to say anything.

He walked faster.

"You really got tall,"

His mother wrapped her arms around him before he could speak.

"And you smell like… foreigners."

He chuckled once. No words.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. Firm. Solid.

"Back alive. That's all that matters."

Ji-Hwan nodded. No explanation for his return. No updates about his time abroad. That wasn't how they talked. Some families used words. His didn't need to.

The ride to the hotel was slow. Late sun dipped low, painting buildings gold and purple.

"You still not talking?"

His father's eyes stayed on the road.

Ji-Hwan looked out the window.

"Still don't need to.

He checked in with brisk efficiency.

Room key in hand, elevator up, third floor.

He dropped his bag by the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

His phone lit up—only once.

No notifications. No service.

He turned off Wi-Fi. Waited.

Then it came.

No ringtone. No sender. Just a black screen.

A red circle spun slowly at the center. Runes danced around it—carved like they'd been drawn in blood.

> "The trial begins soon. Prepare."

His thumb hovered.

Delete.

Gone.

His hand dropped to his lap.

The bed beneath him felt colder than before.

The air grew heavier.

He laid back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Sleep didn't come easy.

It came fast.

He stood in nothing.

No sound. No floor. Just void.

But his body knew he wasn't alone.

Then the voice came. Smooth. Low. Thick like honey—if honey could rot.

"Seol Ji-Hwan."

His head turned.

A figure in black robes stepped out from the dark.

Each step didn't echo—it sucked sound away.

Eyes glowed gold. No pupils. Just burning.

"I am Fransoul."

Ji-Hwan didn't move.

"I've been watching."

"You're not real."

Fransoul chuckled—short, dry, and hollow.

"Real enough to end you."

Ji-Hwan felt his spine tense. Something in him deeper than instinct—knew this was no dream.

"You're here for something."

"I'm here for you."

The air behind Fransoul split like paper. Flames licked the edges of space. Inside the tear—battlefields, screaming skies, rivers of blood running backwards.

"I offer you power. Not borrowed. Not learned. Yours. In your blood. In your bones."

Ji-Hwan's jaw clenched.

"Power always comes with a cost."

"Yes,"

Fransoul took another step forward.

"But not one you can count in money."

Ji-Hwan stared at him.

"What do you want?"

"I want to see what happens when a human breaks in the right way."

Fransoul's mouth curled, teeth jagged like broken mirrors.

"I want your soul. I want your victories. And I want your suffering."

Ji-Hwan flinched.

"But I don't need your permission."

Fransoul tilted his head.

"I just find it more fun when you say yes."

"And if I say no?"

"You'll wake up. Live a few more days. Someone else takes your place. They die slower. I win either way."

Ji-Hwan's fingers curled into fists.

"What do I have to do?"

"Fall."

The voice darkened.

"Survive. Kill. Pass the trials. Reach the end. Or become fertilizer for the next one."

Ji-Hwan's throat tightened.

"You said this is in my blood."

"It always was."

Fransoul raised his hand.

"You've just forgotten what you really are."

A pulse tore through the dream.

Ji-Hwan gasped. A phantom pain crawled under his skin—hot and unfamiliar.

He wanted to run. He wanted to scream.

But something colder held him in place.

"Why now?"

Fransoul leaned in.

"Because you stopped pretending you were ordinary."

Silence.

Then—

Ji-Hwan nodded.

He woke up in darkness.

The hotel room lights were off. No cars outside. No hum of electricity.

His breath steamed in the cold.

And his shadow was moving.

Longer than it should be.

Reaching.

Grabbing

It coiled around his ankle. Pulled.

"Stop!"

The floor cracked beneath him. His bed flipped upward. His scream vanished in reverse.

He fell.

The sky bled red. The air reeked of sulfur and blood.

Jagged rocks stabbed the ground like broken teeth. The clouds above twisted like a writhing mass of limbs.

Ji-Hwan coughed. His knees hit black stone.

He stood barely.

The heat pressed on him from all angles. Sweat dripped instantly. But the ground beneath his feet pulsed like it was alive.

He took a step

A low growl echoed behind him.

He turned.

A beast crouched in the distance. Cat-shaped. But wrong. Its tail split into blades. Its eyes glowed white-hot.

It sprinted.

Ji-Hwan ran.

He dodged right. Barely. A claw swiped his sleeve open.

"Too fast"

He jumped a ledge and tumbled. Rocks cut his arms, dirt filled his lungs.

Pain kept him awake.

Then—

A soft glow floated in front of him.

A screen.

Floating.

No device.

Just symbols. Glitching. Rotating.

A map?

He reached for it—and it flickered, then vanished.

"What the hell is this place…"

Behind him, the beast roared again.

He pushed forward

The terrain bent around a boulder—and someone stood waiting.

Cloaked. Calm.

But the grin

Unmistakable.

Ji-Hoon.

"Yo."

His brother waved.

"Thought you'd show up eventually."

Ji-Hwan froze. His breath hitched.

"You—You're here too?"

"Longer than I wanted to be."

Ji-Hoon tilted his head.

"And believe me, it doesn't get better."

Ji-Hwan stared.

His brother looked… different. More alive. But also wrong. His eyes held something sharp.

"You made the deal too."

"No choice. Not really."

Ji-Hoon stepped forward, boots crunching over dead glass.

"This place?"

He gestured around.

"It'll chew you up in seconds if you hesitate."

"What is it?"

"A test."

He smiled again—like it amused him.

"Of what?"

"Pain. Survival. And whether you're meat or monster."

Ji-Hwan looked down at his hands. Still shaking.

Ji-Hoon clapped him on the back.

"You'll stop shaking when the killing starts."

"I'm not killing anyone."

"Sure,"

Ji-Hoon started walking.

"Say that again when they come for you."

They walked side by side across the blood-red ground.

In the distance something screamed. Something big.

Ji-Hwan didn't ask what.

The world wasn't finished changing.

But one thing was clear now.

This was real.

And the pact wasn't a dream.

It was a sentence.