The sky above Seoul wore a dull shade of gray, like the city was in mourning. Clouds hung heavy over the skyline, threatening rain but never delivering. Below, life continued, unaware that something ancient had chosen to awaken beneath the cracks.
In a cramped apartment on the eastern edge of Gangbuk District, Joonwoo Ha stood barefoot in the kitchen, eyes unfocused as he watched the kettle scream.
He didn't move to silence it. Just stared.
Steam fogged the small window above the sink, and beyond the glass, the city blurred. Everything was quiet except the whistle and the faint creak of the floor behind him.
His younger sister, Ha Jina, stood in the hallway holding a blanket too big for her.
"You're boiling water again," she said softly, her voice still raspy from sleep.
"I know," he replied, reaching forward to shut off the stove. The whistle died, leaving an emptiness behind.
Jina padded over slowly, the blanket dragging behind her like a cape. She looked up at him—not with confusion, but with worry too large for a seven-year-old to carry.
"Did Mom call you?" she asked.
Joonwoo froze.
"No," he lied.
She didn't ask again.
The apartment had grown quieter since their mother died. The television stayed off. The windows stayed closed. Even the fridge hummed softer.
Jina still left two bowls out at breakfast. She still talked to their mother's empty chair.
Joonwoo said nothing. He didn't know how to fix what was broken inside her. He wasn't sure he could fix what was broken in himself.
At night, she slept in his room. Not because she asked—but because she knew he wouldn't sleep unless she was there.
He kept the lights dim. The air cold. The room silent.
And every night, when she finally drifted off, the System returned.
[Daily Quest Available]
• Complete 100 pushups
• Complete 100 situps
• Complete 100 squats
• Run 10 kilometers
Reward: +1 Strength | +1 Endurance | +1 Agility | +10 EXP
The first time it had appeared, he thought it was a joke. A hallucination. But when he ignored it, his body locked up—numb, stiff, frozen for ten minutes.
It wasn't optional.
He learned quickly.
Now, while his sister slept, he moved in silence.
Pushups. Situps. Squats.
Each rep burned more than the last.
Not because he was weak—but because his muscles were still adapting.
His level was only 5.
Low. Insignificant.
But something in his stats had begun to shift. He felt it in his breathing, in how his heart recovered after the tenth kilometer. He felt it in his grip, stronger each night.
And in his dreams, he saw the System. Not as a voice, but as an eye—cold, blue, hovering above a clock that never ticked forward.
Watching. Always watching.
Elsewhere in Seoul, at the headquarters of the Korea Gate Management Association (KGMA), alarms flickered silently in the basement.
A technician looked up from his desk, frowning.
"Gate fluctuation," he muttered. "Sector 12-B. Level... undefined?"
The senior officer glanced over. "Probably a false read. Send a scout team tomorrow."
The technician hesitated. "There's... divine residue in the reading."
That made the officer pause. "Zodiac?"
"No. Something higher."
The room fell silent.
The technician continued typing. "It's not registered to any known god or spirit. It feels... disconnected. Like something old just blinked for the first time."
Joonwoo knew none of this.
He didn't know the System's presence was being tracked.
Didn't know that his awakening had triggered flags not even the KGMA understood.
All he knew was that he needed to get stronger.
Because the world didn't wait. And the weak didn't survive.
Two days later, he returned to the dungeon.
Not the same one.
The System had opened another.
[New Gate Discovered]
[Location: Abandoned Train Station – Yongsan Line]
[Type: Sub-Gate]
[Recommended Level: 7+]
He was only level 5.
But quests gave little EXP. And no one else would bring food into his home.
If he didn't take risks, he'd stay weak.
So he went.
The Yongsan station had been closed since the early Gate Years. Rumors said it was haunted. That an entire A-rank guild had once been wiped out there trying to clear an illegal Gate.
But there were no guards now. No patrols. Just rusted fences and old posters for trains that would never run again.
Joonwoo climbed over the barrier, heart steady.
The System pulsed.
A glow appeared near the center of the track. Blue, swirling. Alive.
[Would you like to enter the Gate?]
[Yes]
[No]
He pressed yes.
Inside was silence.
Not like the last dungeon. No monsters jumped out. No growls. No hounds.
Just... snow.
He stood in an endless white field beneath a sky with three moons.
Ice cracked beneath each step. Wind cut across his face.
[Dungeon Type: Memory Echo]
[Objective: Survive until dawn]
Dawn?
There was no sun in the sky. Just cold and stars.
Then, from the horizon, a figure appeared.
At first, he thought it was a person. A woman, tall, cloaked in silver.
But then she raised her head, and he saw no face. Only a mask—half sun, half moon.
And when she raised her hand, the world itself bent.
Joonwoo dived, narrowly avoiding a spear of light that shattered the ground where he stood.
What kind of monster is this?!
He ran. Dodged. Hid behind fallen trees that cracked like glass under pressure. The masked figure never rushed only walked, her presence bending gravity.
He understood.
This wasn't a normal dungeon.
It was a trial.
[Passive Skill: Fear Resistance I activated]
[Debuff: Chill of the Moon – Reduced Agility by 15%]
Joonwoo breathed slowly. He couldn't fight her. Not yet.
So he didn't try.
He ran.
He hid.
He endured.
And hours later, just when his breath began to freeze in his lungs
Light broke across the horizon.
Not a sun. Not warmth.
But dawn.
The System pinged.
[Trial complete.]
[+500 EXP]
[Level up: 5 → 7]
[New Passive: Survivor's Instinct I unlocked]
The figure vanished. The snow melted.
He collapsed to his knees, chest heaving.
But he was alive.
He pressed his hands to the cold earth and whispered, "Thank you."
Not to a god.
To himself.
Because no one else had kept him alive.
Back at home, Jina greeted him with a hug that nearly crushed his ribs.
She didn't ask where he'd gone.
He handed her a small lunch box her favorite dumplings.
She beamed. "You alw
ays come back," she said.
He smiled, weakly. "I always will."
And above the sky, where no hunter could reach, a forgotten god watched.
It did not speak.
It simply noted.
Another mortal had slipped past the boundaries.
And the System... still chose him.