Chapter 5: The Countdown to Change

  The final sunrise before the Awakening had arrived.

  Two months had passed since Jisoo altered fate for the first time. Two months since he watched the countdown in his system tick steadily toward the inevitable. And now, the wait was over.

  The city was no different than it had been the day before. The streets were the same, the skyline still stretching high into the heavens, oblivious to what was coming. People moved through their routines—rushing to work, eating at cafés, wasting their time on mundane worries, unaware that their world was about to be rewritten in blood and power.

  Jisoo had been waiting for this day.

  His breath was even as he took his final jog through the early morning streets, the crisp air biting against his skin. His feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, muscles burning, lungs expanding with each breath. It was a familiar pain, one he had come to respect over the past half-year.

  Six months.

  That was all the time he had before the Awakening. And he had used every second of it.

  He had started with nothing—just the knowledge in his head, a body barely able to hold up under the weight of survival, and a locked system that refused to grant him an ounce of its power until the world changed. So, he adapted. He had no shortcuts, no sudden surge of strength, just raw, relentless effort.

  At first, he had struggled. His muscles screamed. His body fought against him. But he had learned something valuable—pain was temporary. The only thing that mattered was pushing through it. He had forced himself forward, step by step, until weakness was something he left behind on the road.

  And now?

  Jisoo came to a stop, sweat clinging to his skin as he exhaled deeply, glancing at the sky just as the first hints of daylight broke over the horizon.

  He had exceeded his expectations. His endurance had surpassed what he originally aimed for—his stamina no longer lagged behind his will. He could keep moving, keep pushing, without feeling like his body was betraying him. His physique had changed, though not drastically. He was leaner, stronger, but he knew real physical transformation took years, not mere months. Still, he had reached a level where he could rely on his own body rather than curse its limits.

  He had prepared himself as much as he could.

  He had studied relentlessly, delving into economics, resource management, and combat strategies. He had debated making a move early, planting seeds before the Awakening, but ultimately held back—he couldn’t risk acting on incomplete information. The notebook’s knowledge was still locked away.

  He had tracked the Iron Hand’s movements as well, noting their usual routines, the way they operated. They were a problem that would need to be handled—soon.

  But all of it led to one undeniable truth—

  Now, all that was left was to step into the storm.

  His system had remained silent. As if watching. As if waiting.

  Jisoo ran a hand through his damp hair and turned, making his way back home. The streets, once peaceful in the early morning haze, felt different now. The weight of anticipation pressed against him, but his resolve remained unshaken. He had spent half a year clawing his way toward an uncertain future. He was not about to falter now.

  As he reached his neighborhood, he slowed his pace.

  And then he saw him.

  His father.

  Standing outside a parked car, laughing.

  With a woman who wasn’t his mother.

  Jisoo stilled, breath steady but pulse beating with something heavier than exhaustion. He watched them from a distance, unnoticed, unseen.

  She was younger than his mother, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup light but purposeful. The kind of woman who carried herself like she owned the world, draped in luxury, leaning against the sleek car as if she belonged to it. And his father? He looked at her the way he had long since stopped looking at their family—as if nothing else in the world mattered.

  Jisoo’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t move.

  So this was it.

  The answer to why his father had thrown them away. Why he had taken out a loan so absurd it had ruined them. Why he had walked away without a second glance, leaving behind a sick wife and two struggling children.

  All for this.

  For a moment, something sharp and ugly twisted in his chest.

  Once, he might have felt the need to confront him. To demand answers. To shout. But now? Now, he saw the truth clearly—there was nothing left to say.

  What was the point?

  He had spent years hating this man. Letting that hate consume him, letting it define him. But standing here now, with all the knowledge of what was to come, he felt nothing but detachment. This man was already dead to him. Whatever life he was playing at now—it would all crumble soon enough. If anything, it only made it easier to hate him and forget him. That was the easy part; the hard part would be when his mother found out.

  Jisoo turned away.

  He wouldn't tell his mother. He wouldn't say a word. At least for now.

  She still had today. She still had this last, peaceful moment of normalcy. He wouldn’t take that from her.

  The Awakening would strip away enough from their lives soon enough.

  And when that happened—

  When his father inevitably fled, abandoning them in a world turned upside down—

  Jisoo would be ready.

  Jisoo stepped onto the familiar streets of his neighborhood, his mind still preoccupied with the scene he had just witnessed. His father, laughing, carefree, wrapped up in a life he had chosen over them. The bitterness sat in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. It didn’t matter anymore. The past had already shaped him. The future was where his focus lay.

  As he neared his house, his steps slowed.

  A man stood by the door, leaning against the frame with an air of easy confidence, like he belonged there. He hadn’t knocked yet, just waiting, as if he already knew someone would answer. The sight of him sent a ripple of unease through Jisoo’s gut—not fear, not quite, but the sharp awareness of a problem standing in front of him.

  Iron Hand.

  The man finally raised his hand and knocked—three slow, deliberate raps against the wood. Not rushed, not impatient. Purposeful.

  Jisoo exhaled through his nose, his fingers curling slightly before he forced them to relax. He stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them just as the man shifted his weight, turning his gaze lazily toward him.

  “Ah,” the man said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perfect timing.”

  Jisoo didn’t respond, simply stopping a foot away, his expression blank. The man looked him over, amused by something only he understood.

  “You live here, right?” he continued, voice casual, almost friendly. “Figured I’d drop by for a little chat. You see, your old man’s a little late on his payment this time.”

  Jisoo’s eyes remained steady, but inside, pieces were already falling into place.

  Late? That wasn’t right.

  His mother had always ensured the payments were made on time. It had been their lifeline—ensuring Iron Hand never had a reason to cause problems. But now…

  Now, Jisoo knew exactly where that money had gone.

  The realization settled like a stone in his chest. His father had taken it. The last payment. And instead of keeping his family safe, he had spent it on her.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The man clicked his tongue, breaking the silence. “You folks have been pretty reliable, so this is just a courtesy visit. A little reminder. Wouldn’t want this to become a habit, you understand?”

  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Jisoo didn’t need to be told twice—this was a warning. A peaceful one, for now. But the unspoken weight behind the words was clear.

  Jisoo forced a neutral expression, his voice even. "I’ll take care of it. Wait here."

  The man quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as Jisoo turned, stepping inside without another word. He moved quickly, retrieving the necessary amount from his personal savings—money he had intended to use sparingly, stretching it out to cover any emergencies before the Awakening. But this? This needed to be handled now.

  Returning to the door, Jisoo held out the cash, his expression unreadable. The man took it, counting it briefly before slipping it into his pocket.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” he said with a satisfied nod.

  He pushed off the doorframe, stretching his arms out with an exaggerated sigh before stepping away. “Hopefully, this is the first and last time, yeah? We wouldn’t want my boss getting too interested in your family’s situation.”

  With that, he turned, walking off down the street as if they had simply exchanged pleasantries.

  Jisoo stayed rooted in place, watching him go, his mind already calculating his next move.

  There was no need to tell his mother. He had enough saved to cover this payment, and soon, money wouldn’t be an issue at all. He just had to wait a little longer. Just until tomorrow.

  He inhaled deeply, shaking off the lingering weight of the encounter, and stepped inside.

  His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepared dinner. The scent of home-cooked food filled the air, warm and familiar.

  For a moment, Jisoo just stood there, taking it all in.

  This was the last normal evening they would ever have together.

  The warmth of home wrapped around Jisoo the moment he stepped inside, a stark contrast to the cold weight lingering in his chest. The scent of simmering broth and freshly cooked rice filled the small space, blending with the soft hum of a familiar tune. His mother stood at the stove, her movements fluid and practiced as she ladled soup into bowls, her expression calm, content.

  For a moment, he just watched.

  This was home. The same as it had always been. The same as it would not be for much longer.

  His mother turned at the sound of his footsteps, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “You’re back early today.”

  Jisoo nodded, stepping further inside. “I don't have work today.”

  She gestured toward the table, already set with dishes. “Oh, I see. Go sit, I was just about to call for Nari.”

  He hesitated for a split second before complying, moving toward his usual seat. It was so normal. The easy rhythm of their lives, the unspoken comfort in the way his mother moved around the kitchen. It felt like any other night.

  But it wasn’t.

  His gaze flickered to his mother’s hands as she set down a bowl in front of him. There was a faint tremor in her fingers, barely noticeable. Something he wouldn’t have caught before. Something he never did catch before.

  Guilt curled in his gut, but he forced it down. Not yet.

  Nari entered the room, stretching her arms as she plopped down in the seat across from him. “You could’ve at least called me out earlier,” she muttered, grabbing her chopsticks. “I was trying to study, not fall asleep.”

  Their mother chuckled. “You needed the rest more than you think. Burning yourself out won’t help you learn any faster.”

  Jisoo remained silent, watching them, committing every detail to memory.

  The soft clink of chopsticks against bowls. The distant hum of the refrigerator. The warmth of the light overhead, casting a gentle glow on their mother’s face.

  He had to remember this. Because soon, there would be no more peaceful dinners. Soon, his mother’s hands would weaken, her body betraying her. Soon, Nari’s laughter would be laced with worry, with desperation. Soon—

  Jisoo clenched his fists beneath the table.

  He wouldn’t let it happen. He didn’t care if the past had no record of a cure. Didn’t care if every doctor, every report, every desperate attempt in his past life had ended in failure. He would search the ends of the world if he had to. If there was even one possibility, one hint of an answer, he would find it.

  Even if it meant breaking every unspoken rule of his regression, bending fate itself to his will.

  “Jisoo?”

  His mother’s voice pulled him back. He blinked, realizing she was looking at him with quiet concern. “You’re zoning out again.”

  Nari snorted, shaking her head. “He’s been like that a lot lately. It’s weird.”

  Jisoo exhaled softly, schooling his features into something lighter. “Just thinking about work.”

  His mother’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she smiled gently. “Don’t overwork yourself, sweetheart. No matter how important it is, don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

  The words settled over him like a quiet ache. She had always been like this—worried about them, never herself.

  “I know.” His voice was steady. “I will.”

  A lie. But one she needed to hear.

  Dinner passed in a blur of simple conversation. Nari complaining about school, their mother gently scolding her for skipping breakfast, Jisoo offering the occasional comment. It was normal. Painfully normal.

  And he held onto it for as long as he could.

  Later that night, after Nari had gone back to her room and their mother was finishing up in the kitchen, Jisoo lingered near the doorway. He should have gone to his room. Should have let the night end like any other.

  But something kept him there.

  His mother noticed. She glanced up from where she was drying her hands, tilting her head slightly. “What is it?”

  Jisoo hesitated, his throat tightening. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he couldn’t say.

  Instead, he stepped forward, gently reaching out. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her, holding on just long enough to feel her warmth, to memorize the feeling of her presence.

  She stiffened in surprise before laughing softly, patting his back. “What’s this? You’re not usually one for hugs.”

  Jisoo forced out a small chuckle, pulling away before he lost his resolve. “Just felt like it.”

  She smiled, a little amused, a little touched. “Well, don’t make it such a rare thing.”

  He nodded, stepping back toward the hallway. “Goodnight, Mom.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  As he turned away, his face fell back into unreadable neutrality. The warmth of her touch lingered, but so did the bitter weight in his chest.

  Tomorrow, the world would change.

  And he would never let her go.

  Jisoo pushed open the door to his room, stepping inside with slow, deliberate movements. The moment he shut it behind him, the outside world faded. The quiet hum of the apartment still lingered beyond the walls, but here, in this small, dimly lit space, everything felt distant.

  His room was as it had always been—simple, sparse, functional. A neatly made bed. A small desk cluttered with books and loose sheets of paper. A single lamp casting a muted glow over the wooden floor. Nothing about it had changed in the past months, and yet, tonight, it felt different.

  Because after tonight, nothing would ever be the same again.

  Jisoo exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders before dropping onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, arms resting behind his head. His body ached in the familiar way that came after a long day—his limbs heavy from the weight of training, his muscles fatigued yet alive with the progress he had made. He had pushed himself beyond what he thought possible. His endurance, his stamina—it had all improved beyond his original expectations.

  Six months of relentless effort. No system assistance. No enhancements. Just pure, raw determination.

  And now, the moment was almost here.

  He glanced toward the small clock on his desk. Less than an hour remained.

  Jisoo’s thoughts drifted, running over every detail he had planned, every scenario he had prepared for. He had accounted for as much as possible. The Awakening would come, and he would not be caught off guard this time. He would seize every advantage, every opportunity, without hesitation.

  His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

  I’m ready.

  And yet… there was still the matter of the unknown. The things beyond his control. The things even his regression couldn’t account for.

  His mind wandered to his mother. To Nari. To the impending storm that would consume everything around them. He had no doubt in his ability to survive, to grow stronger—but his strength alone wasn’t enough. He needed to be faster. Smarter. He needed to ensure they stayed safe, no matter what it took.

  Jisoo let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment. The weight of it all pressed against him, but he didn’t let it overwhelm him. He had come too far for doubts.

  Then, for the first time in months—

  A voice spoke.

  [“Your effort has been noticed.”]

  Jisoo’s eyes snapped open.

  The voice was familiar. Warm, almost reassuring. It wasn’t the cold, mechanical tone of a rigid AI. No, his system had always spoken like someone—something—aware.

  [“Rewards are being calculated."]

  His breath stilled for half a second.

  He sat up slowly, staring at the empty space before him. The words hadn’t appeared as text. There was no glowing interface, no projection. Just the voice. Speaking as if it had been there all along, waiting for the right moment.

  Jisoo’s mind worked quickly, piecing together the implications. The system had been dormant for months, completely silent. It hadn’t acknowledged anything—his training, his progress, his attempts at interaction. And now, just as the Awakening was about to begin, it suddenly responded.

  He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kind of rewards?”

  There was a pause, almost thoughtful.

  [“Please wait until the Awakening is complete.”]

  Jisoo exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly. “So you’re back, huh?”

  A small beat of silence. Then—

  [“I never left. I was simply waiting.”]

  Jisoo’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. “Waiting for what?”

  [“For you.”]

  Something in his chest tightened at that. But he didn’t let it linger.

  The countdown ticked lower. The final minute stretched into mere seconds.

  Outside, the city was quiet, unaware of the change that was about to wash over it. The air felt heavier, charged with something unseen. Jisoo didn’t need to check the clock anymore. He could feel it coming.

  A single breath.

  [“The Awakening begins now.”]

  Then—

  The world changed.

  The sky outside his window darkened unnaturally, the city lights flickering erratically. A deep, pulsating hum filled the air, vibrating through the very fabric of existence.

  Jisoo sat still, unmoving, his heart steady even as he watched the transformation unfold. The time had come once more. But this time, the outcome would not follow the same path.

  The countdown had reached zero.

  Then, as if the very fabric of reality trembled, a voice echoed through the night—vast, all-encompassing, laced with something both ancient and undeniable.

  ["Hello, humans."]