Chapter 4: Ripples in Time

  The fluorescent lights flickered faintly, their buzzing mixing with the low murmur of an old radio behind the counter. The stale scent of instant ramen and cheap coffee clung to the air, a scent Jisoo had grown used to—but never quite liked. The scent of instant ramen, cheap coffee, and disinfectant lingered in the air—familiar, unchanged.

  Jisoo walked past the shelves with quiet steps, the dull beep of the cashier scanning items echoing in the background. He barely glanced at the products lining the walls, picking up only what he needed—a few ingredients his mother had requested.

  His mind, however, was elsewhere.

  He had long since grown used to the monotonous routine of everyday life, but ever since his regression, everything carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. Every step, every interaction, every minor detail—he saw them all through the lens of the past and future colliding.

  Two months left.

  That thought sat at the back of his mind, unwavering. The Awakening was coming. The countdown continued.

  He reached the counter, placing the items down. The cashier, a half-bored teenager, barely looked at him as they muttered the total. Jisoo paid in silence, pocketing the change before stepping outside.

  The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the cracked pavement, the air thick with the quiet lull of a city moving through its routine. The distant hum of traffic blended into the rhythm of neon signs flickering to life.

  Then, he saw him.

  A man was walking toward the crosswalk, hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. Just another passerby, another nameless stranger in the crowd.

  Except Jisoo had seen this man before.

  Not in person. But on the news.

  A traffic accident. A car. A flash of headlights. A fatal impact.

  Something about them nagged at the back of his mind, a faint unease crawling up his spine—until the memory surfaced. The news report had been nothing but background noise at the time, but he had remembered it for one reason: the timing. When he first saw it, he had thought, that could have been me. It was such a small difference in time and place. A fraction of a second, a single step forward, and he could have been the one to die that night.

  And now, it was happening again.

  Jisoo’s fingers curled slightly. The man stepped forward.

  He moved.

  Brushing past him just enough to knock into him, Jisoo barely felt the impact before hearing the sharp clatter of something hitting the ground.

  “Ah, damn it.”

  The man cursed under his breath, stopping to kneel down and retrieve his wallet.

  A few seconds later, a car came hurtling down the street, tires screeching, metal groaning as it swerved wildly out of control.

  People gasped. A woman shrieked.

  The car missed the pedestrian ahead by mere inches before veering off, smashing into a lamppost.

  The would-be victim, the man who should have been hit, was still kneeling, frozen in place, wallet clutched in his trembling hands. His face was pale, eyes locked onto the wreckage ahead, realization dawning far too slowly.

  He had no idea how close he had come to death.

  Jisoo did.

  He stood still, watching, his expression unreadable. The accident had been avoided. A minor delay, a fraction of a second, and the outcome had changed entirely.

  That was all it took.

  “This was supposed to happen.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  He didn’t wait to see anything else. No one looked at him, no one acknowledged what he had done. He simply turned and walked away, thoughts calculating, analyzing. A small, nearly insignificant change.

  But was it really insignificant?

  If something as simple as bumping into a man could rewrite an event… what else could change?

  Fate wasn’t set in stone. He had just proven that.

  But did that mean everything could change? Or were some things inevitable?

  The thought lingered as he turned a corner—only to collide with someone head-on.

  A firm, steady impact—not enough to send either of them stumbling, but enough to make Jisoo take immediate notice.

  He looked up.

  Baek Yoorim.

  The future leader of Obsidian Fang.

  Her sharp eyes met his, studying him with a fleeting moment of scrutiny.

  For a brief second, Jisoo noted how different she seemed from the woman he remembered in the future. That Baek Yoorim had been a force of nature—cold, calculating, an elite strategist feared and respected by all. That version of her had never once acknowledged his existence.

  This one, however, was staring directly at him.

  “Have we met before?”

  Her voice was even, but there was a slight edge to it, as though she was piecing together a puzzle she hadn’t realized existed.

  Jisoo remained calm, forcing a slight shake of his head. “No, I just pass through here often. Nothing special.”

  Her gaze lingered for a second longer, but then she shrugged.

  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the briefest flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Hmph. You’re interesting.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, blending into the passing crowd.

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

  Baek Yoorim was sharp. That much hadn’t changed. But something about her before The Awakening felt… different. More perceptive, perhaps. Less guarded than the powerful guild leader she would eventually become.

  Still, he didn’t dwell on it.

  He had bigger things to focus on.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He continued walking, pulling out his phone as he received a message.

  [Hurry up, slowpoke. My drink’s getting cold.]

  Nari.

  Jisoo pocketed his phone, setting his pace forward once more.

  The Awakening was still two months away.

  And he still had work to do.

  Jisoo arrived at the café a few minutes later, the familiar chime of the doorbell ringing as he stepped inside. The place hadn’t changed—warm lighting, the hum of quiet chatter, the faint scent of coffee and pastries hanging in the air. It was the same as he remembered.

  And yet, something about it felt… off.

  His eyes flickered across the interior, scanning the wooden tables and neatly arranged counter displays. It wasn’t until he sat down across from Nari that the realization struck him.

  This place doesn’t exist in the future.

  At some point, it had disappeared. Whether it had closed, relocated, or been destroyed—he didn’t know. But in the world he came from, this café was gone.

  It was such a small thing. Businesses opened and closed all the time. And yet, the thought gnawed at him. Maybe it was because he had been here so often before things fell apart. Or maybe, deep down, he hated seeing another reminder that the world he once knew wasn’t as solid as it seemed.

  “Oi.”

  Jisoo blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Nari was staring at him, one brow raised as she sipped her iced coffee.

  “You good? You’re making that weird thinking face again.”

  He smirked slightly. “Weird thinking face?”

  “Yeah. You always get that same dumb look when you're overthinking.”

  Jisoo leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I’m not overthinking.”

  Nari stirred her drink lazily, giving him a sideways glance. “You’ve been different these past few months.”

  Jisoo tilted his head slightly. “Different how?”

  She tapped a finger against the table. “I dunno, serious? Focused? Four months ago, you were just going through the motions, but now you’re like a man on a mission.”

  She squinted playfully. “Not that I’m complaining, but… what made you change?”

  Jisoo took a sip of his coffee, thinking for a moment before responding. “Just felt like it was time to stop wasting opportunities.”

  Nari studied him, her lips twitching slightly. “That so?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  She didn’t press further, though he could tell she was still curious. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and stretched. “Well, whatever it is, just don’t work yourself to death, alright?”

  Jisoo chuckled. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” She gave him a knowing look before taking another sip of her drink. “That’s exactly what every fool says before they end up face-first on the floor.”

  He smirked. “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

  She rolled her eyes but grinned. “You’re impossible.”

  The conversation drifted to lighter topics, the weight of his thoughts momentarily pushed aside. Yet, as Jisoo sat there, taking in the warmth of the café, the easy laughter between them, he couldn’t shake the feeling lingering in the back of his mind.

  This place wouldn’t last.

  Neither would this moment.

  But for now, it was still here. And so was she.

  Jisoo stepped out into the night air, leaving the café behind as he made his way toward the warehouse. The quiet hum of the city had shifted; the warm glow of streetlights barely cut through the deepening dark. The further he walked, the more the streets thinned out, replaced by long, empty roads leading into the industrial district.

  By the time he arrived, the transition felt oddly seamless. The soft comfort of the café was gone, replaced by the rigid hum of fluorescent lights and the steady clang of metal. The scent of dust and concrete filled the space, the air slightly cooler inside the massive structure. Stacks of crates lined the loading dock, forming uneven rows like miniature walls.

  Jisoo adjusted his grip on the heavy crate, muscles straining as he shifted it onto the loading platform. His body had adapted well—faster recovery, more endurance. The months of relentless training were showing results, even if the system didn’t acknowledge them yet.

  He had barely spoken to it in weeks. The closer he got to the Awakening, the quieter it seemed to be. Not a denial of his progress, but as if it was waiting for something.

  “Yo, Jisoo!”

  He turned to see Seokjin struggling with a box, his face twisted in frustration. “A little help here?”

  Jisoo strode over, grabbing the other side of the crate with ease. “You need some help, old man?”

  Seokjin snorted. “Shut up, punk. I ain’t that old.”

  Together, they hoisted the box onto the platform. Seokjin exhaled, shaking his arms out. “Damn thing’s heavier than it looks.”

  He turned to Jisoo, raising an eyebrow. “The hell? You used to struggle with these, and now you’re lifting them like they’re nothing.”

  Jisoo smirked. “Guess I’ve been lifting too many boxes.”

  Seokjin eyed him, mock suspicious. “Nah, this ain’t just from work. You hiding some secret gym sessions or what?”

  Jisoo shrugged, amused. “Something like that.”

  “Tch.” Seokjin shook his head, smirking. “At this rate, you’ll be carrying all the heavy crap while I take it easy.”

  Jisoo chuckled. “As long as you don’t start slacking off.”

  “Who, me? Never.” Seokjin rolled his shoulders. “You got a hell of a work ethic, though. It’s kinda nuts how much you do here.”

  Jisoo simply smiled, but he didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to tell Seokjin the real reason behind his sudden growth.

  As the shift continued, Jisoo fell into the rhythm of work, mind sharp despite the exhaustion setting into his limbs. He had two months left. The system remained silent, as if waiting.

  But that was fine.

  When the time came, he would be ready.

  Jisoo, now at home, leaned back against the worn-out couch in his small room, staring at the ceiling as his mind sifted through the past four months. The steady hum of the city outside his window felt distant, drowned out by the weight of his thoughts. It had been a long and relentless process, but he had made undeniable progress.

  Physically, his improvements had exceeded his initial expectations. His endurance had nearly tripled, his stamina holding up far better than it had when he first started. He had adapted to long work hours, late-night runs, and exhausting training sessions without feeling like his body was betraying him. His muscles, though not overly defined, were leaner and stronger. He could lift more, move faster, react quicker. And yet, the system had remained dormant.

  The interface still displayed no changes. No stat increases. No new messages. The silence was unsettling. The closer he got to the Awakening, the less it seemed to respond, as if waiting for the day everything would truly begin.

  But Jisoo didn’t let that discourage him.

  His progress wasn’t just limited to physical growth. Over the past months, he had immersed himself in learning everything he could. Financial strategies, economic patterns, trading techniques—he had studied it all, ensuring that even if he knew the right answers in the future, he wouldn’t make foolish mistakes when the time came. Knowing the lottery numbers and investment opportunities wasn’t enough—he needed to understand how to manipulate those opportunities to their fullest potential.

  Beyond that, he had begun tracking key figures—people who would become important once the Awakening arrived. Rising awakeners, corporate moguls, future guild leaders. He had observed their movements, their habits, their rise in power. A few times, he had debated whether to act—to try influencing them now before they became untouchable. But each time, he brushed it off. It was too risky. Without his notebook, without full access to his system, he was still walking in partial darkness.

  So he waited.

  He had been strategizing for months on what to do once the Awakening hit, drafting multiple plans depending on how events unfolded. But no matter how much he prepared, there were too many variables he couldn’t account for yet. Without the notebook’s data, some things were still uncertain.

  Still, he was eager. He was done waiting. The day needed to come already.

  Yet, part of him dreaded it as well.

  Because the Awakening day meant he would have to go through it all again—his mother getting sick. The hospital visits. Watching her health deteriorate, knowing that time was running out. That bitter reality clung to him like a weight on his chest. But instead of crushing him, it only reinforced his resolve.

  He clenched his fists. I won’t let history repeat itself.

  Jisoo pushed himself up from the couch and grabbed his jacket, stepping out onto the rooftop of the apartment complex. The night air was crisp, the glow of the city stretching endlessly before him. From up here, everything looked calm, undisturbed.

  But in two months, this skyline would become unrecognizable.

  The streets would be filled with chaos. The world would shift into a battleground, people fighting to survive, to gain power, to carve their place in the new order. The fractures would tear open reality, dungeons would spawn creatures never before seen in this world, and society itself would collapse under the weight of the unknown.

  And he would be ready for it.

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering to the system interface hovering faintly in the corner of his vision. The countdown continued its silent march forward.

  Once The Awakening began, hesitation would mean death, and uncertainty would be fatal. He needed to be ready—not just to survive, but to take control before others even realized what was happening. He would find the first opportunity to seize an advantage, secure the resources that would set him apart, and eliminate future threats before they could ever reach him or his family.

  This time, I’ll be ready.

  The wind howled softly, rustling his hair. The lights of the city blinked, unaware of the storm that was about to come.

  The Awakening was near.