Back at the academy dorms, Seo Ji-Hyun sat cross-legged on his bed, tapping at a handheld console.
Another hollow victory. The screen dimmed, but the silence of the room didn't fade.
"…Why does it feel so quiet today?" he muttered.
Ever since returning from the Gate, there'd been this gnawing unease, like a thread had been pulled loose from his memory. Something was missing. Something important. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put a name to it.
He shifted slightly, pressing at the bandages wrapped tight around his chest.
"…Did I tie these too tight today?"
It was unlikely—he'd long since gotten used to wearing them. Still, the thought lingered before he pushed it aside with a sigh.
"It's probably just in my head. I'll train… maybe that'll clear my mind."
◇◇◇
The training facility buzzed with activity. Cadets sparred in simulated arenas, their shouts echoing against the steel walls.
Ji-Hyun had just finished stretching when a familiar voice called out.
"Hey, Seo Ji-Hyun!"
He turned to see a girl approaching, her long hair swaying as she waved. Han Seora—ranked second among the cadets, a number that spoke for itself.
"Seora," he greeted with a faint smile. "How have you been?"
"Still the same. What about you?"
"Just the same as ever."
She grinned, hands on her hips. "So, what about your Gate exploration? How'd it go? What rank did you get?"
Ji-Hyun scratched the back of his neck. "Well, it wasn't much, but…"
And so he told her everything. About stumbling into a Low Major rank the moment they entered. About discovering a strange new species of animal. About the countless little encounters that stacked into points.
"…And that's how I managed to score Rank 3," Ji-Hyun finished with a small shrug. "What about you?"
"Not much, so I—"
They fell into an easy rhythm, talking as they trained. Running side by side on the track, pushing through pull-ups, challenging each other in sit-ups until their arms and stomachs burned. For a moment, the unease in Ji-Hyun's chest faded.
◇◇◇
Victoria Astermont's life had never been her own.
Since childhood, she had been molded into a weapon of politics. Taught to smile as she betrayed. To wear the crown of her bloodline like a shackle. To live not as Victoria the girl, but as Victoria the crown princess.
She hated it. Every single moment.
But in the Gate… something had changed.
The exploration had been terrifying, yes—but it had also awakened something inside her. For the first time, she felt like a human being, not a puppet draped in velvet and jewels. For the first time, her actions mattered not because of duty, but because she chose them.
The friends she made had shown her that.
She'd managed to command Jack, whose sharp eyes and quiet strength had once scared her. She'd even worked alongside Amano, stubborn and loud as a storm.
And at the center of it all…
"…It was thanks to Kylen," she whispered.
She froze.
Her lips trembled. "Wait… who's Kylen?"
The name slipped out before she could stop it. But no matter how hard she tried to recall, her mind was a blank wall. The harder she reached, the more it slipped through her fingers.
Her chest tightened.
Shaking her head, she forced herself back into routine, stretching out her limbs in steady, practiced motions. Each pose was deliberate, precise—her muscles moving in rhythm until at last she exhaled.
"And with that… yoga's done."
She grimaced, tugging at the tight fabric clinging to her skin. "Ugh. I hate these clothes."
All her life, she'd been caged in gowns so heavy she could hardly breathe, dresses woven for politics rather than comfort. But whenever she was alone, she stripped all that away—trading suffocating lace and silk for an oversized shirt and soft shorts.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Loose, comfortable, free.
"This… this feels more like me."
But still… who is Kylen?
The name lingered stubbornly, carved into her memory even though the face was gone.
It first surfaced back when she and her teammates stumbled upon that abandoned bronze city. At first, it seemed ordinary—ruined towers, silent streets, the hollow remains of something once grand. But inside the temple… everything changed.
They weren't alone.
At first, there was just one—a creature hunched over the carcass of another monster, feasting noisily in the shadows. Then more appeared, emerging one by one, their bloodlust pressing down like suffocating air.
Those monsters were terrifying, but manageable. With teamwork, with grit, they could be brought down.
What truly froze her blood wasn't them.
It was the thing that followed.
The boss…
It crawled from the shadows of the temple gate, its movements jagged yet disturbingly fluid—like a marionette tugged by broken strings.
Its body was stretched and gaunt, obsidian hide bristling with jagged spines jutting at uneven angles. Long, bony claws scraped against bronze tiles, each step shrieking like nails across glass.
And its head—gods.
Where a face should've been was a gaping maw of teeth, layered and uneven, jutting outward like shattered blades. Behind those jagged fangs, faint shapes twisted—faces. Dozens of them. Weeping, screaming, blank with terror. They surfaced for seconds before melting back into the blackness of its throat.
From its back writhed tendrils like skeletal tails, lashing against the walls and gouging deep scars into the stone. Every movement carried a pressure that clawed straight into her chest.
She could feel it—something prying into her, peeling her memories apart. Names. Faces. Voices. Slipping away before she could even hold them.
And then… something was ripped from her mind. Not painful. Just gone.
When she asked her teammates, they only looked at her blankly. None of them even remembered what the monster looked like.
Victoria pressed her hand to her chest, lips tightening. "It's so… confusing."
But then she shook her head. "Well, whatever. It's me time. I should do whatever I want."
She pulled out a bag of chips and a chilled bottle of Coke, flopping onto her bed. The crackle of the wrapper, the fizz of carbonation—it was bliss.
Leaning back with a smile, she stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth and let the sweetness of soda burn down her throat.
For now, she didn't care about crowns, or monsters, or memories that slipped like water through her fingers.
For now, she was just Victoria.
To Be Continued