Chapter 2: The First Page of Fate

  The room was dimly lit, the glow from Jisoo’s laptop screen casting long shadows across the cluttered desk. Scattered papers, hastily scribbled notes, and open browser tabs filled with financial charts painted a picture of someone obsessed. His fingers trembled as he turned another page in his notebook, the pen barely keeping up with the racing thoughts in his mind.

  Twenty-five hours left.

  Exhaustion clung to him, but sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Every minute that passed was another lost opportunity to prepare. He had spent the last twenty-three years failing—he wouldn’t allow himself to do it again.

  A quiet creak broke the silence.

  Jisoo’s head snapped toward the doorway. Nari.

  She stood there, arms crossed, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Her violet eyes flickered to the mess of notes and his tense posture. There was no hiding it anymore—she knew something was wrong.

  “You’re not even trying to be subtle,” she muttered, stepping inside.

  Jisoo sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s nothing.”

  Nari didn’t buy it. She walked over, picking up a stray page from his desk before he could stop her. Her brows furrowed as she read the words aloud.

  “Survive past The Awakening.”

  Her eyes flicked back to him. “Jisoo… what the hell is this?”

  He hesitated, searching for an excuse, but nothing came. The truth was too insane to explain, and lying to Nari never worked.

  “You’re planning something,” she pressed. “You barely sleep, you look like you’re expecting the world to end, and now I find stuff like this? If you’re in some kind of trouble—”

  “I’m not,” he interrupted. His voice was calm, but the way his fists clenched betrayed his nerves. “I swear, I just… I need to fix things.”

  Nari exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Fix what? You’re acting like you have some deadline—like you’re running out of time."

  Jisoo swallowed hard. Because I am.

  She hesitated, then glanced at him more intently. "This isn’t about Iron Hand again, is it? After last night… Jisoo, if they’re threatening you again—"

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It also involves them," he admitted, voice firm but measured. "But everything will be solved soon." He looked at her directly, his expression unwavering. "Just trust me one more time, Nari."

  She stared at him, expecting answers, but he had none to give. Finally, she shook her head. “Whatever it is, don’t shut me out.”

  He looked at her then, the quiet plea in her voice twisting something in his chest. Nari had always been his anchor—the one person he fought to protect. But this time… he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

  Before she left, she paused at the door. “You’re not going to disappear on me, just like dad did, are you?”

  Jisoo froze.

  She tried to sound casual, but her grip on the doorframe was tight. She knows something is coming.

  His throat tightened, but he forced a smirk. “Me? Disappear? I’m too stubborn for that.”

  Nari didn’t smile. She just nodded slowly, as if committing his words to memory, and walked away.

  Jisoo exhaled sharply. Damn it.

  He turned back to his desk, but the papers in front of him blurred. Was this really the right choice? Leaving her behind without an explanation? But what could he say? That time itself was about to reset? That everything she knew would be rewritten?

  His hands clenched. I’ll come back to her. I have to.

  But then, a thought lingered in his mind, dark and unshakable. What happens to this world when I leave? Would it continue without him? Or was this future simply being discarded, abandoned to its ruin? He turned his gaze toward the window. The neon glow of the city reflected in the glass—hollow, empty, desperate. Sirens wailed in the distance, another crime in a city suffocating under its own weight. The streets were filled with people surviving, not living. This world—the broken system, the relentless debt, the suffering—was his worst nightmare.

  This is what awaits if I fail.

  He wouldn’t let it happen.

  His gaze drifted toward his notebook, his fingers gripping it tightly. This wasn’t just for himself—it was for her. For their survival.

  He turned his gaze back to the door where Nari had stood. He had promised her he wouldn’t disappear. And even though she wouldn’t remember this version of him, even though the world itself might forget—he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t abandon her. He wouldn’t leave her to struggle alone again.

  “I swear, Nari,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t leave you. I’ll fix everything… I promise.”

  The moment came faster than he expected.

  At first, it was subtle—a strange hum in the air, like the city itself was holding its breath. Then, the world around him flickered. The walls stretched and warped, as if reality itself were tearing at the seams. A sharp ringing filled his ears, growing louder by the second.

  Jisoo stumbled, gripping his desk as the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. His fingers instinctively clutched his notebook, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white. His screen glitched, the numbers and letters distorting into nonsense. His breath quickened.

  It’s happening.

  A deafening silence swallowed the apartment, pressing against his eardrums. Then came the first scream.

  Distant—faint—but unmistakable.

  Jisoo’s head jerked toward the window. Outside, the sky was wrong.

  Colors bled into each other, shifting between dawn and midnight. Lights flickered erratically, like a dying heartbeat. Shadows twisted unnaturally in the alleys below, stretching and contorting as if something unseen was moving within them. A wave of nausea rolled through him as more screams joined the first, an eerie chorus of panic and confusion.

  Then—

  “Jisoo!”

  His eyes widened. Nari.

  The sound of her voice cut through the noise, clearer than anything else. He turned toward the door—she was calling for him.

  His vision blurred. Was she really there? Was this part of the regression, or…?

  His skin tingled, an icy sensation creeping up his spine. His limbs felt weightless, as if gravity itself was unraveling. The entire room warped, stretching and bending, losing form. A distant voice echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t make out the words. His breath hitched.

  The countdown in his mind ticked lower.

  5… 4… 3…

  His body felt weightless. The world twisted, breaking apart at the seams. Light swallowed everything, and in his final moment of consciousness, a single thought gripped his heart.

  Nari, I swear… I won’t fail.

  Then, silence.

  Jisoo’s consciousness wavered, floating somewhere between existence and nothingness. There was no air, no sound—only an overwhelming stillness. His body felt weightless, suspended in an endless abyss, as if time itself had unraveled around him.

  And then, sensation slammed into him like a tidal wave.

  A sharp gasp tore from his lips as his body jerked upright. His lungs burned as if he had been drowning moments before, desperate for air. His vision swam, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

  Then, reality set in.

  The familiar scent of fabric softener and the faint aroma of breakfast cooking reached his senses. Sunlight streamed through slightly parted curtains, casting warm golden rays across a room that shouldn’t exist anymore.

  His room.

  Jisoo’s breath hitched. He turned his head slowly, scanning the space around him.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The cracked plaster ceiling. The poster of a long-forgotten band he used to love. The stack of textbooks on his cluttered desk, filled with half-written notes and pages marked with highlights.

  This was home—his home, before everything fell apart.

  His heart pounded erratically against his ribs. He reached down, hands trembling as he clenched the blanket beneath him. It felt real. Solid. Tangible.

  His fingers moved instinctively toward his pockets, patting them down in a frantic search. Then he turned to the nightstand, the desk, the floor—everywhere. It wasn’t just missing. It had vanished.

  His notebook was nowhere to be found.

  Panic surged through him. He threw the blanket off and scrambled to his feet, checking again—his pockets, the drawers, even beneath his bed. Nothing.

  “The notebook…” he whispered, voice hoarse.

  Then, a familiar sound echoed in his mind.

  [System Initialized.]

  A glowing interface materialized before his eyes, the soft blue hue casting an ethereal glow against his skin. Lines of text scrolled across the screen.

  [Welcome back, Kang Jisoo. Regression Complete.]

  His breath came in shallow gasps as he processed the words. It had worked. He was really back.

  [System Awakening: 6 Months Until Activation.]

  His gaze locked onto the next notification, his stomach twisting.

  [Your selected item has been stored. The item can be accessed in 6 months when the event takes place. Upon The Awakening, you may choose between a standard activation, restoring your item as it originally was, or a unique fusion with the system, integrating your item in an unprecedented manner. The risks and benefits of fusion remain unknown, but probabilities suggest a positive outcome. Do you wish to proceed with standard activation or fusion?]

  His breath hitched. Fusion? That wasn’t something he had anticipated. His notebook—the one thing he had risked everything to bring back—could be merged with the system itself?

  He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? Standard activation or integration with the system?”

  The system responded immediately.

  [Standard activation will restore your item exactly as it was before regression, allowing you to use it as you originally did. However, integration is an unknown phenomenon. The system has never encountered an opportunity like this before. Upon The Awakening, rather than experiencing a standard ability awakening, you will undergo an Awakening Fusion—your selected item will merge with the system itself, potentially altering its functionality entirely.]

  Jisoo frowned. A completely unique awakening? No one else would have something like this.

  “But what happens if I choose fusion? What will the effects be?” he asked cautiously.

  [The outcome is uncertain. However, based on system analysis, the fusion process is likely to enhance your abilities significantly. There may be risks, but the probability of a beneficial result is high.]

  Jisoo remained silent. Keeping the notebook as it was meant familiarity, certainty. But certainty hadn’t saved him before. Playing it safe had never worked.

  This was an opportunity. A gamble, yes, but one that could give him an even greater edge than he had originally planned.

  His fingers clenched slightly. “Can I trust you?” he asked, his voice quiet yet firm.

  The system’s response came without hesitation.

  [I want you to succeed and change this world. It’s your choice to believe me or not.]

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, his mind racing. This world—this dark future—is what awaits if I fail. He couldn’t let that happen. If the system was offering him something beyond what was known, then maybe… maybe it was worth the risk.

  His hesitation faded, replaced by something stronger—determination.

  He took a deep breath.

  “Fuse it.”

  The moment the words left his lips, a surge of warmth enveloped him. His vision blurred as unfamiliar symbols and data flooded his mind. A sharp pulse coursed through his body, neither painful nor pleasant—just different.

  Then, silence.

  The system’s glow dimmed before a new prompt appeared.

  [Notebook successfully integrated. System access limited until The Awakening.]

  He let out a slow breath. It’s done.

  His thoughts were still spinning when a voice called out from beyond his door.

  “Jisoo! Breakfast is ready!”

  His entire body went rigid. His head snapped toward the door, breath hitching.

  That voice.

  Soft. Warm. Unmistakably familiar.

  His mother.

  Jisoo’s knees nearly buckled. His fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, his chest tightening. His mother—alive. Breathing. Calling for him, as if nothing had changed. As if she had never left.

  His throat felt tight, the air in the room suddenly heavy. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to keep it together, to not let the emotions crash over him like a tidal wave. But it was impossible.

  It had been years. Years.

  A shaky breath left his lips as he wiped a hand over his face. He couldn’t afford to break down. Not yet.

  One step. Then another.

  He reached the door, his hand trembling as he grasped the handle. For a moment, he hesitated—afraid that if he opened it, this fragile illusion would shatter, that he’d wake up back in the cold, broken world he had left behind.

  But he had to see her.

  Swallowing hard, he turned the handle.

  As the door swung open, the warmth of the past enveloped him. The scent of home—of miso soup and freshly cooked rice. The clatter of dishes, the faint hum of a radio playing an old tune in the background. Sunlight streamed through the small kitchen window, illuminating everything with a golden glow.

  And there, standing by the stove, was his mother.

  She turned, smiling at him over her shoulder as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

  “You’re up early for once.”

  Jisoo’s breath hitched.

  She looked exactly the same. The gentle eyes. The soft lines near her lips from years of laughter. The way she moved, effortlessly graceful despite the years of hardship.

  It was real.

  His fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to make sure she was really there. But he felt frozen, trapped between overwhelming joy and unbearable grief.

  His lips parted, but no words came out. He had so much to say, but none of it would make sense.

  His mother tilted her head, her brows knitting together.

  “Jisoo?”

  His stomach twisted painfully. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. Don’t lose it. Not yet.

  He forced a breath into his lungs. Say something. Anything.

  “…Yeah.” His voice came out strained, barely above a whisper. “I… I just didn’t want to sleep in today.”

  His mother chuckled softly, shaking her head as she turned back to the stove. “That’s new. Sit down, breakfast will be ready soon.”

  Jisoo exhaled shakily and stepped into the kitchen, each movement feeling surreal. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his hands gripping the edge of the table like a lifeline.

  The table—the same worn wooden surface, faintly scratched from years of use. His fingers brushed against it, feeling its rough texture. The familiarity of it made his chest tighten.

  He had lost this.

  Jisoo’s gaze flickered toward the man seated at the table—their father.

  He sat exactly as Jisoo remembered, nursing a cup of coffee in one hand, the other tapping idly against the table as he waited for breakfast. His posture was relaxed, his expression unreadable. A familiar sight. Too familiar.

  Jisoo forced himself to sit down across from him, carefully schooling his features into something neutral. He knew this moment would come, but still—it felt surreal.

  His father glanced up. “You’re up early, did anything happen?” he remarked, voice tinged with faint amusement.

  The words sent a sharp, bitter pang through Jisoo’s chest. It was so normal, so effortless, like nothing had ever gone wrong. Like he hadn’t—like he wouldn’t—leave them behind.

  Jisoo offered a forced chuckle. “Guess I just felt like it.”

  His father hummed in response, taking another sip of coffee, unaware of the storm raging inside his son’s mind.

  Jisoo’s fingers curled slightly under the table. Did you ever love us at all? The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. Was there ever a moment you looked at us and thought we were worth staying for?

  Back then, Jisoo had admired him. Back then, he had believed in him—the quiet strength in his voice, the way he always promised that no matter how hard things got, they would pull through as a family. He had been their foundation, their pillar of support.

  But it had been a lie.

  A choice had been made. A decision that left them drowning in debt, abandoned. His father had walked away the moment things became too heavy, leaving them to pick up the pieces of a shattered life.

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, loosening his fists. Not yet. He couldn’t let himself lose control—not here, not now.

  He had to pretend. Pretend that he didn’t already know how this story would end.

  Pretend that, for just a little while longer, they were still a family.

  A sudden rustling broke his daze.

  “Ugh, it’s too early…” A familiar groggy voice mumbled as footsteps shuffled into the kitchen.

  Jisoo turned, his breath catching once more.

  Nari.

  She stepped into view, yawning as she tied up her messy black hair. She looked the same—young, carefree, still untouched by the weight of the world.

  She blinked sleepily at him before frowning. “What’s with that weird look on your face?”

  Jisoo quickly turned away, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

  Nari squinted at him. “You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Jisoo let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. If only she knew.

  Nari plopped into the chair beside him, stretching her arms with a lazy yawn. “Oppa, you’re up early… and acting weird? Something’s definitely up.”

  Their mother placed a plate of food in front of her, ruffling her hair gently. “Leave your brother alone, Nari. It’s nice to have both of you awake early for once.”

  Nari huffed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Fine, fine.”

  Jisoo, however, could barely move. He picked up his chopsticks, staring down at the food in front of him. His fingers curled around them tightly, his grip just shy of trembling. He hadn’t tasted this in years. His mother’s cooking. The same simple meal he had eaten hundreds of times—yet now, it felt impossibly distant, like a dream he had long forgotten.

  It was just a normal breakfast.

  Rice. Miso soup. A side of kimchi. The same simple meal they had eaten a hundred times before.

  Slowly, he took his first bite. The warmth spread across his tongue, the subtle spice of the kimchi mixing with the soft grains of rice. It was… ordinary. Comforting. Familiar. But to him, it was everything.

  His vision blurred. He had forgotten what this felt like.

  A home that wasn’t filled with silence. A morning that wasn’t spent in exhaustion and fear. The presence of the people he loved, still whole, still alive.

  He swallowed, his throat tightening slightly. His mother was here. Nari was here. The world had reset, and he was sitting at this table like nothing had ever changed. But it had. He had. He clenched his chopsticks, inhaling sharply. He wouldn’t waste this chance.

  Six months.

  That’s all the time he had before the world would change.

  This time, I won’t waste it.

  He exhaled slowly, the corners of his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

  He took his first bite.

  This time, I will rewrite everything.