The morning came quietly.
Jaemin stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, towel slung across his shoulder, eyes dull. He hadn't slept well.
Last night's conversation kept echoing in his skull — Gyeongmin's tone, the look in his eyes when he said.
"This was unjust to the families of the lost."
He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth.
"Tch... sponsor, huh?"
He muttered, pulling on a black hoodie.
"Bastard played it smooth."
Still, it wasn't the threat that bothered him.
It was the truth behind it.
****
The soft hiss of tofu frying filled the air.
Nari sat at the small kitchen table, scrolling on her tablet, wearing an oversized hoodie with her hair tied up in a messy bun.
Across from her, Jaemin sipped on barley tea, still looking half-asleep. His hoodie sleeves were rolled up, revealing faint scars on his wrists — fresh from recent raids.
"You look like shit."
Nari said, not looking up.
"You sound like our landlord."
Jaemin replied, now munching on kimchi.
She snorted.
"Guess I'm just being honest."
She took a bite of her rolled egg and tapped the screen.
"Hey, don't forget — this Saturday is the Department Advisory Open."
"What the hell is that?"
Jaemin asked.
"It's this thing where profs talk to students about their academic track. You know, like career projections, scholarship evaluations, grad school prep... That kinda boring stuff."
"So why are you telling me?"
Nari glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow.
"Because they let you bring your guardian or sponsor. It's not required, but it looks good if someone shows up. Especially since I'm trying to lock that research placement in third year."
Jaemin looked down at his plate. The tofu was going cold.
"You want me to show up and sit there while a professor flexes his PhD over my part-time resume?"
"No, I want you to look bored and intimidating while I act like a smart kid with a tragic family story."
She said with a wink.
"Seriously, you being there helps. Makes it look like I'm grounded. And you are my guardian."
"Come at Three. And oppa—"
She looked up, chewing thoughtfully.
"Try to look presentable, yeah? Like… not like you just rolled out of a Rift."
Jaemin gave her a flat look.
"This is what peak performance looks like."
"You look like a sleep-deprived bounty hunter."
"I am a sleep-deprived bounty hunter."
She threw a piece of rolled-up tissue at him.
"No hoodies. Wear something decent. I want them to think I come from a respectable household, not a horror webtoon."
Nari slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and called out, "Oppa, I'm heading out. I've got back-to-back tests, so don't wait up."
"Got it. Good luck," Jaemin replied, mouth full of toast.
The door shut with a soft click. He took one last bite, washed up, then changed into something simple — black tee, black pants, coat, boots. Comfortable enough to move in, but sharp enough to not look like a bum. He stepped out.
Taeha was already there, leaning back in a chair with two drinks in front of him — both black iced Americanos.
"I didn't know if you wanted hot or cold, so I got cold," Taeha said without looking up.
Jaemin sat down and grabbed the drink. "Cold's fine. Caffeine's caffeine."
"You ever think about detoxing?" Taeha asked, raising a brow.
Jaemin took a long sip. "You ever think about not talking?"
"Thanks. So, news?" Taeha finally locked his screen and gave Jaemin a look. "You looked like death last night in the raid group chat."
Jaemin sipped the cursed drink. "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep."
That wasn't a lie. He'd been thinking about Gyeongmin's words all night. "We'll talk after the memorial," and "no access for the public." That entire conversation still felt off. Like there was a second one happening underneath it.
Taeha pulled out a folded tablet and slid it across the table. "Drafted Covenant proposals. I wrote three names. Pick one or fight me."
Jaemin skimmed the tablet lazily. "We're really doing this, huh."
"You said so yourself. If we want to hunt without restrictions, we need a registered tag. Unless you like running with busted gear and no priority on Rift entries."
Jaemin nodded. "I'll handle paperwork this week. But—heads up—I'll be off the grid for a few days."
Taeha blinked. "Why?"
"Personal thing," Jaemin replied casually. "Don't worry about it. Nothing dangerous."
Taeha leaned back. "That's a lie. You don't go off the grid unless you're tracking something."
Jaemin didn't reply. He tapped his fingers against the cup.
It's better if Taeha's out of it. For now, at least.
Taeha sighed. "Fine, fine. Just don't die. I can't run a Covenant alone. I'd have to recruit a tank, and you know I hate tanks."
Jaemin cracked a slight smile. "You hate everyone."
"Exactly. That's why I need you alive."
"Also, hyung, since the paperwork is almost done, we'll need to start the Rift Raids as soon as possible. Like, ASAP." Taeha stressed the word like it was a life-or-death situation.
Jaemin sipped his coffee without reacting. "The faster we get it done, the faster we can move on to the licensing stage. And that... is gonna take forever," Taeha added, flipping through the forms on the table.
"Estimate?" Jaemin asked, eyes still on his cup.
"Heh… seven months," Taeha muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Jaemin exhaled through his nose. "Even connection to the higher-ups can't help in this…" Taeha said, shaking his head as he scanned another page.
Jaemin didn't reply right away. His mind drifted—Maybe Gyeongmin could help with this. If I'm getting involved anyway… might as well let him in on the Covenant stuff too.
"I'm leaving, Taeha," Jaemin said as he stood up.
Taeha looked up, a little confused. "That early?"
Jaemin glanced back just before walking out. "See you around soon, Taeha."
That single line made Taeha light up like a kid on Christmas morning. Jaemin never said goodbye like that. Hell, Jaemin stopping to say goodbye felt like the sun rising in the west.
"Yessss!!!" Taeha shouted, drawing glances from nearby tables. "And I'll make sure to bring good news next time we meet, I swear!"
Jaemin left the café, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost counted as a smile.
Jaemin arrived at the hall.
It was massive—lavished in expensive leather, deep silk, and polished marble. The scent of fresh lilies floated through the air. Every pillar was wrapped in flowers. The walls were lined with framed portraits of lost Coreborns—black ribbons clipped to each one. At the center of it all stood the five famed ones. The ones the public remembered.
Everywhere he turned, newly awakened Coreborns stood around, either solemn or simply trying to look the part. Some were probably just here for appearances.
Jaemin didn't care.He stood near the far wall, his hands together, eyes closed.
He'd memorized every single face in the room—every one of the lost. Not just the five in the center. All of them. Even those whose names would never be read aloud.
Director Gyeongmin had told him he didn't need to come. But Jaemin stayed anyway. Calm. Collected. Silently honoring every person not in this room because they'd thrown themselves into the Rift to save people like him.
"Mr. Han."
A calm, clear voice cut through the room. Jaemin opened his eyes.
A tall man stood before him, dressed in a formal black suit and long coat, a file tucked in one hand. His tone was respectful, measured—definitely Gyeongmin's assistant.
"I'm Secretary Joo Minhyuk," the man introduced. "Director Gyeongmin is waiting for you. If you've paid your respects, may I escort you to him?"
"Yes, please," Jaemin said. Then paused. "Also—I have a special request."
"Of course," Minhyuk replied.
Jaemin looked around.Every flower bouquet was placed near the center five. None near the others. Despite this being a memorial for all of them.
"I want flowers placed at every photo in this room," Jaemin said, voice flat. "No exceptions."
To him, power levels meant nothing here.
Minhyuk nodded. "Understood."
Jaemin followed him down the hall.
Jaemin stepped into the room—and instantly forgot how to breathe.
This wasn't just some meeting space.
It was a monument.
Larger than any office or hall he'd ever seen, the chamber was carved in lavish marble, lined with leather-upholstered benches, and ceiling lights that reflected off polished silk curtains. Every inch whispered wealth—and silence.
And the mirrors.
Dozens of them, all draped in deep red cloth.
Not a single reflection visible.
Not one.
Out of all the Coreborn Associations in the world, the one in Korea ranked the highest in finances.
Followed by India.Then China.Indonesia.United Arab Emirates.And then the United States of America.
But this room? This one belonged to the top.
And standing at the far end, in front of a massive transparent tactical screen, was Director Gyeongmin.
His back turned.
Still.
Waiting.
Jaemin swallowed hard—dry spit catching in his throat.
"Director...?" he called out, walking forward slowly.
Gyeongmin turned around with a calm, practiced smile.
"Perfect timing, Mr. Han. I hope you found some peace and solemnity in the memorial service."
"I did," Jaemin said. "It was beautiful. Though… more pictures could've used flowers. Not just the center five."
A soft nod. Almost knowing.
"And I suppose you presented this matter to my secretary, Joo Minhyuk?"
"I did."
"Good. He has your details. You'll be hearing from him frequently." Gyeongmin moved to sit down. "He's efficient. Use him."
Jaemin nodded and sat down across.
"Understood. So, Director Gyeongmin… what did you want to discuss with me?"
Gyeongmin leaned back, fingers steepled lightly.
The transparent screen flickered behind him.
"A few details," he said, voice steady."About the Lapis Chamber... things I believe you'll find rather... intriguing."
The meeting room lights dimmed as a transparent holo-screen unfolded before Jaemin, revealing five shifting emblems, each rotating slowly in mid-air. Gyeongmin stood before them, arms behind his back.
"Before we proceed," Gyeongmin said, his voice steady, "you need to understand how the Coreborns Association actually functions—beyond the public image."
Jaemin nodded.
Gyeongmin gestured toward the first symbol: a silver emblem shaped like a prism, flickering with lines of coded data.
"This is the Crest of Aether. Research Division. They handle Rift studies, Core energy anomalies, artifact containment, and any classified intel—including matters like the Lapis Chamber. They're secretive by design. Even I only get access through formal clearance."
The symbol faded, replaced by a jagged crest resembling a sword and flame.
"Crest of Valor," Gyeongmin continued. "Combat Division. Oversees all active Coreborns—military operations, Rift raids, enforcement. If you form a Covenant, this is who you answer to."
Jaemin's gaze didn't move. He was taking mental notes.
Next came a golden symbol, shaped like a scroll overlapping a scale.
"Lexicon Division. They deal with legislation. Coreborn law, civilian protections, internal affairs. You'll meet them when your Covenant steps into public action—or if you ever breach protocol."
The screen shifted again. A set of concentric rings unfolded like a target.
"Horizon Division. Scouting and recruitment. They're the reason new Coreborns get discovered before they collapse from uncontrolled awakenings. They also handle internal evaluation... and field spying, unofficially."
Finally, a soft blue icon bloomed onto the screen—circular, with satellites and waveform lines.
"Echo Division. Public relations. Media broadcasts, social trust, narrative control. They keep people believing we're winning."
Gyeongmin turned to face Jaemin fully now.
"These five divisions form the Coreborns Association beneath Chairman Seo Jinyoung. They cooperate, but only under necessity. Each runs its own playbook. And unfortunately..."
He looked back toward the Crest of Aether.
"...the information you're after—the truth about the Lapis Chamber—is buried deep within Aether's archives. And they don't share unless forced."
Jaemin's jaw tightened."Then I'll force it out."
Gyeongmin allowed himself a thin smile."I thought you might say that."
Jaemin's gaze remained fixed on the prism-shaped emblem—Crest of Aether.
Gyeongmin exhaled quietly, then continued, "There's a reason Aether operates like a fortress."
He tapped the screen once, zooming in on the emblem. A digital lock shimmered across its core.
"They're the only division granted absolute data rights under Article 7 of the Coreborns Charter. In simple terms, they're legally allowed to withhold information from the other divisions… including Valor and even my own Tactical Department."
Jaemin's brow furrowed."So, not even you—"
"No," Gyeongmin said bluntly. "Not without clearance from their inner board. And they won't give it unless the Chairman himself forces it. Even then, they'll fight it."
"Why?" Jaemin asked.
"To prevent leaks," Gyeongmin replied. "If a Rift-level event is misclassified, or an experimental core theory gets out... it could cause panic. War. Worse. Their entire existence is built around control. That's what makes them dangerous."
He looked Jaemin dead in the eye.
"Lapis Chamber isn't just hidden. It's buried. Possibly even reclassified under an entirely different codename."
Jaemin leaned back, silent for a moment.
"That means," he muttered, "if I want to know the truth… I'll need someone inside."
"Exactly," Gyeongmin said. "Someone trusted by Aether. Or someone they won't notice slipping in."
Gyeongmin leaned back into his chair, the screen behind him dimming to a soft blue glow. His fingers interlocked over the desk, his tone calm but firm.
"Mr. Han, before treading this path—let me tell you this plainly," he began, voice unwavering. "You'll have my full support. Especially in corporate and tactical domains. All five sections… they'll hear your voice and act on it."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"…Of course, Aether Crest may be the lone exception."
Jaemin nodded, absorbing every syllable. He already understood: Gyeongmin held high clearance, unmatched command over Korea's entire Coreborn Association Division. Aside from penetrating Aether's vault of secrets, the road was clear.
That alone made this entire ordeal feel… doable.
"I'll do my best then," Jaemin replied quietly. "Also, I have a small favor to ask."
Gyeongmin tilted his head slightly. "Which is?"
"I'd like to form a Covenant."
There was no hesitation.
"I see," Gyeongmin said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's no small task. Tough work you've chosen."
He tapped his desk screen, pulling up a registration panel—Classified Tier. "Give me the name you've decided on."
Jaemin hesitated for half a second, then answered.
Gyeongmin nodded once. "I'll sign off on it and issue your license that day itself."
Jaemin blinked. That fast? That easily?
This man's signature alone was enough to bypass months of bureaucracy. No preliminary tests. No public approval period. No internal review board meetings.
One signature.
One name.
And a Covenant would rise.