Jun-Hyuk lay sprawled on his bed, the soft hum of the ceiling fan doing little to calm the restless energy thrumming through his veins. His eyes stayed glued to the glowing red numbers of the digital clock on his nightstand: 9:45 p.m. The minutes seemed to crawl, the passing of each second dragging like an eternity. Fifteen minutes left. Just fifteen agonizingly slow minutes until he could re-enter post-apocalyptic China.

  The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint golden light leaking through his bedroom curtains. The world outside was quiet, the muffled sounds of distant cars and the occasional chirp of a cricket barely registering in his mind. His focus was elsewhere.

  Jun-Hyuk didn’t know why he felt so jittery, his heart racing as if he were standing on the edge of some grand revelation. He shouldn’t feel this excited about stepping into a world teeming with grotesque creatures hell-bent on annihilation. Yet, a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, his pulse quickening with anticipation.

  Maybe it was the thrill of gaining strength in the real world. Maybe it was the rush of danger, the adrenaline of walking a knife’s edge between survival and death. Or maybe it was just the intoxicating high of victory.

  Only hours ago, he’d found himself in the middle of a fighting ring full of kids who would normally scare him stiff. But not this time. This time, he didn’t just hold his own—he crushed their top fighter and stood tall, claiming ownership of the ring in a way that left no room for argument. The memory replayed in his mind like a vivid dream, each punch and calculated move flooding him with a heady sense of power.

  And now? Now there were more possibilities. More skills to gain. More challenges to conquer. The thought made his chest tighten with excitement.

  Then there was the points. Eighty of them. Points he couldn’t touch until he stepped back into that broken, chaotic world. The mere thought of them made his fingers itch. He wanted to dive in, to feel the gritty air of post-apocalyptic China in his lungs, to hear the distant growls of beasts lurking in the shadows, to face the unknown head-on.

  The clock shifted to 9:46 p.m. Jun-Hyuk exhaled sharply, his muscles tense and ready, as if his body already knew it was on the verge of plunging into another world. Fifteen minutes suddenly felt like a lifetime. It felt like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once.

  Then, the low buzz of his phone cut through the quiet, and he reflexively glanced at the screen. At first, he didn’t process the name on the notification, his mind still tangled in thoughts of post-apocalyptic creatures and fighting for survival. But then it hit him like a shockwave.

  Han Ji-Min.

  His heart stopped mid-beat. Han Ji-Min?! The name seemed to glow on the screen, brighter than it had any right to be. His breath caught in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to inhale. Han Ji-Min—the girl he’d secretly liked since they were kids, the girl whose laugh he could pick out in a crowded room, the girl he’d never had the courage to speak to outside of group projects or polite greetings—had just messaged him.

  Jun-Hyuk blinked at the screen, half-expecting the name to disappear, convinced it had to be some sort of mistake. When it didn’t, his stomach flipped so violently it felt like it might leap into his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling, as his mind scrambled to catch up with reality.

  He hesitated, staring at the notification as if it might vanish if he breathed too hard. Slowly, he tapped on the message, every nerve in his body on high alert. The words filled his screen:

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  Hey Jun, are you ok? I heard you got involved in Baekho’s fighting ring. Be safe. Baekho kids can be vicious, and the higher-ups might come for you now that you’ve interrupted their cash cow.

  His heart thudded in his chest, loud enough that it drowned out everything else. She was worried about him. Her, Han Ji-Min, the girl he had admired from afar, cared enough to check on him. A soft, almost disbelieving smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he forgot about the danger she had warned him about. He didn’t even think to question how she’d learn about that. She had messaged him. Han Ji-Min. And for just a moment, amidst the chaos of his double life and the looming dangers ahead, Jun-Hyuk let himself savor the small, impossible joy of her words.

  Jun-Hyuk stared at the message, his thumbs hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. His mind raced, and his stomach churned as if it were filled with a thousand fluttering birds. What do I say? A reply to Han Ji-Min, the girl he’d secretly admired for years, wasn’t something he could rush. Every possible response he typed in his head sounded wrong. Too casual? Too serious? Too awkward?

  "Thanks for worrying about me." No, that felt too formal.

  "I’m fine. Don’t worry about it." Too dismissive.

  "I’m fine. How about you?" Was that too much? Would she think he was prying?

  His palms were damp, and the clock on his phone ticked forward mercilessly. He exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. Why couldn’t this be as simple as taking on a level seven creature? Come on, Jun-Hyuk. Get it together.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he settled on something short but sincere. He typed the words carefully, rereading them a dozen times before convincing himself to hit send.

  "I’m fine. Thanks for worrying about me."

  The message delivered, and he stared at the screen, half-expecting an immediate reply. None came, but he barely had time to linger. A sharp beep from his clock snapped him out of his thoughts.

  10:00 p.m.

  Jun-Hyuk’s breath caught as the moment he’d been waiting for arrived. He stood abruptly, his gaze flickering to the sword mounted on his wall. Dawnfire. Its sleek, obsidian blade shimmered faintly in the low light, a faint crimson glow emanating from its edge like a whisper of the flames it could summon. Without hesitation, he grabbed the weapon, the familiar weight grounding him as he gripped the hilt tightly.

  He glanced back at his bed. His heart pounded as anticipation coursed through his veins. Jun-Hyuk took one last breath before throwing himself onto the mattress. The world shifted around him as his vision went dark.

  When he opened his eyes, the familiar sight of post-apocalyptic China greeted him. He was in a moving vehicle, its engine humming steadily beneath him. The world outside was painted in the perpetual, haunting red of the sky—a fiery crimson that seemed to stretch endlessly, casting an eerie glow over the barren wasteland below.

  Jun-Hyuk’s stomach lurched, not from the motion of the vehicle but from the scene unfolding outside the window. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.

  A standoff.

  Several military officers stood rigid, their glowing blue guns raised in a show of force. The weapons pulsed with an otherworldly energy, a stark contrast to the desolate surroundings. Opposite them were members of the martial families, their ornate, traditional armor clashing with the futuristic appearance of the soldiers. The tension between the two groups was palpable, crackling in the air like a static charge before a storm.

  Jun-Hyuk’s fingers tightened around Dawnfire’s hilt, his pulse quickening.

  What did he miss while he was asleep?