In the city of Neo-Seoul, glittering towers clawed at a smog-choked sky. Holo-ads screamed into the night, vending dreams to those too poor to buy them. ZepeNet streamed rankings of Gifted teens nonstop, a leaderboard of who mattered—and who didn't.
Everyone was born with a Gift. Some could manipulate metal, others summoned fire, a few even commanded gravity. Powers typically activated between ages 12 and 19.
Jang Iseul had just turned 18, and for the first time, she felt a strange current humming inside her. The air shifted near her when she was anxious. Lights flickered when she dreamed. Her siblings complained about hearing whispers in their dreams lately.
Iseul stared blankly at the holo-projector flickering in her apartment's peeling corner. The voices, the lights, the constant stream of "potential"—it all felt like background noise. Static in her mind.
The apartment was dim, the only light a pale orange slice of sun spilling through a cracked curtain. Jang Iseul rolled out of her narrow bed, careful not to wake Jang Yong-woo curled beside her like a sleepy puppy, his stuffed levibear clutched tight.
She padded across the cold floor, stretching stiff limbs. Today was the day. But first—breakfast.
She tugged her hair into a messy bun and slipped on her worn house jacket. Her steps were quiet but practiced, weaving between boxes of school books, a flickering wall panel, and an old synth-rug with a melted corner. In the cramped kitchenette, she activated the stove's cracked holo-control and poured rice into the steamer, then cracked five eggs into a shallow pan. Her fingers worked fast, flipping rolled omelets while slicing through yesterday's green onions with a dull blade.
The scent of soy and toasted sesame oil drifted through the air.
One by one, her siblings stirred.
Jang Haneul—16, brooding, and always late—shuffled out first, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
Jang Chang—14, the quiet artist—emerged next, hair already neatly brushed.
Jang Hyun-woo and Jang Beom-seok—twins, 12, and chaos incarnate—crashed into each other fighting over who got the shower first.
And finally, Yong-woo came wobbling out, rubbing his face with his bear's ear.
"Nonna, smells like real food today," Hyun-woo said with a grin.
"Don't roast her," Beom-seok added, sliding into a chair. "She's nervous."
"Shut up," Iseul said mildly, plating eggs onto bowls of steaming rice, adding a pinch of seaweed flakes. "Eat while it's hot. You've got school."
Haneul slumped into a seat. "They'll probably assign me trash again. Group 9 had us vacuuming the anti-grav toilets yesterday."
Chang sat quietly, sketching a half-drawn dreamscape in his notebook as he chewed. "Good luck today, Nuna."
"I made your favorite," Iseul told him, sliding him the corner piece of egg roll with extra scallion.
"You didn't have to," he murmured.
"Yeah, but I did."
After breakfast, Iseul tapped her wrist comm and transferred 150 credits to their shared account. A soft ping sounded on each sibling's wristband.
"For food. And school supplies. That printer's running low on filament."
"You sure?" Haneul frowned. "You're gonna need stuff too."
"I'll manage," Iseul said. "I always do."
The twins popped up first, wrapping her in a surprise double hug. "You'll pass with something cool, we know it!" they chorused.
"Don't get stuck with soil-class like me," Haneul's face hardened while he muttered, rubbing his neck, then softened his expression.
"Still… good luck, sis."
"Mhm," she nodded her head as she reached out rubbing Haneul's head.
She knew how much her brother suffered at the hands of his group with C and D class members. Though she doesn't have the strength yet, soon she will.
She wanted to be ready. She wanted the test to prove what she already knew.
Chang gave her a quiet nod, eyes warm. Yong-woo clung to her leg, sniffling. "Nonna, dream of us if they get mean."
She paused a beat at the words "Dream of us"—that's something her parents would always say.
It's been 3 years since their disappearance when they entered the rift tear to the Calamos realm to battle in the frontlines against the enemy. They have been marked as deceased. Sending a letter with the national flag, medals of their achievements with the loop and resources and all the pay from the enemies intel collect from spoils. The money was a quite lump some but only is sent in payments for all her siblings yearly and daily funding drinking up quite quickly. The last few years for her younger siblings gift nurturing them with herb baths and until they can take their gift assessment well the twins had their first one today.
She knelt and ruffled his hair. "Always."
The six of them stood there in the little entryway—bare walls, cracked flooring, a holo-poster of Zepoman peeling from the corner. Iseul looked at their faces, tired but smiling, mismatched and messy and hers.
They were everything.
"Alright," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Off you go."
They parted with hugs and waves, shoes squeaking down the hall. Iseul watched the door close behind them, then turned and stood in the silent apartment.
She grabbed her things after cleaning up and prepping lunch for her siblings until she gets home later on this evening to cook dinner. She left the apartment, locked up and headed down to the school shuttle bus.
Today was the official Gift Assessment Day arrived in a blur of nerves and neon. She stood outside the testing center's plain exam room—too clean, too quiet.
A ZepeNet holo-scanner hovered over her, humming faintly. Blue glyphs scanned her nervous system, her spine, her brain, her fingertips.
"You may proceed forward into the test room" it's mechanical voice echoed.
Her heart pounded. She braced herself.
Jang Iseul entered the room, took off her shoes.
The scanner blinked. Beeped.
Now, she stood barefoot at the scanning area in Dominion Academy test room. The overhead lights pulsed in quiet rhythm, each cycle echoing a countdown she wasn't sure she could beat.
The domination protocol was merciless. Gift identification had to be public. Every blink, every scan, every register to the ZepeNet Core Archive—all recorded, all locked.
The hall smelled of cold tiles and recycled air. No pods. No luxury. Just a half-lit device with blinking sensors and a mandatory softnet readout.
The scanner intoned:
"Please remain still. Initiating full‑spectrum Gift Resonance Scan."
Lines of energy crept up her spine. Symbols flickered across her vision like ghost data.
The machine made a quiet chirping sound and locked her ZepeNet profile. She was ranked now. The world would see it. Her friends would see it. Universities would ignore it.
She stared at the results.
Red text streaked across the display:
SCANNER SYNC COMPLETE
Gift Class: star‑Class
Rank: (F‑Rank)
Designation: Mutated Illusion creator
Origin Code: Strange, Unknown
Energy Bond: Red Locked
ZepeNet Status: Manual Review Required