The rooftop smelled of tar and cigarette smoke.
Three boys stood over him, laughing.
"Thanks for the money, asshole."
A fist slammed into his stomach one last time before they turned away.
Their footsteps echoed on the concrete as they left him there—crumpled, breathless, staring at the wide gray sky.
His name was Jihoon. Just another face in class. Just another weak kid.
Blood dripped from his lip. His chest burned. His hands shook as he pressed them against the floor, trying to get up.
It's always like this.
Every single day.
I have to endure.
But… how much longer?
Was it because he once stepped in when someone else was bullied?
No.
Maybe when he reported them for smoking?
No.
Or was it simply the moment he enrolled here—this cursed school?
The questions circled in his head until something cut through the pain.
A sound.
A glow.
In front of him, floating above the rooftop tiles, words appeared.
[System Activated.]
[Maybe it wasn't your fault.]
[There are people worse than trash… people who only know how to crush the weak.]
Jihoon's eyes widened. His breath froze.
"…What… is this?"
The letters burned brighter, like fire carved into the air.
Jihoon slowly straightened his back, bones aching with every movement.
His glasses were cracked, the frame bent. He slid them off, wiped the blood and tears from his eyes, and whispered,
"…Is this… a dream?"
The glowing letters flickered in response.
[Are you really saying that… when you just got beaten up?]
Jihoon froze. His throat tightened.
He let out a small, awkward laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"Oh… then… what is this?"
The screen didn't vanish.
He waved his hands through it, flailed his arms like an idiot, but the words just hovered there—stubborn, cold, unshakable.
His breath quickened. The rooftop spun. His chest hurt from both fear and bruises.
"…It's still here."
The interface pulsed once more.
[Welcome, Jihoon.]
[This is your Survival System.]
Jihoon's lips trembled as he repeated the words out loud.
"…Survival… System?"
The letters pulsed again.
[Yep.]
[Let me explain in short—I help you grow.]
Jihoon's eyes widened. For a second, hope flickered in his chest.
But then another line appeared, slow and deliberate.
[Though… just by glancing at you…]
[You are—ah, how do I put it—pathetic.]
The words stabbed sharper than any fist.
Jihoon's breath caught. "Pathetic…?"
The glowing text shifted like a cruel smile.
[Yes. Imagine a painting left in the rain. The colors faded, the canvas bent, tossed aside where no one bothers to look. That's you, Jihoon.]
[A figure people step on, forget, or laugh at.]
[Pathetic is not an insult. It's your entire existence carved into shape.]
Jihoon's hands clenched into fists. His chest throbbed, not from the beating, but from the truth pressed against him like a weight.
"…That's… what I am?"
The screen flickered.
[For now.]
Jihoon's fists shook. His lips parted, but no words came.
The glowing text flickered once more.
[Well then—chop chop.]
Before he could react, his body shivered.
A faint glow crawled up his arms, breaking into shards of blue light. His fingertips dissolved first, then his legs.
"…W-what's happening—?!"
He twisted, panicked, but it was too late.
His whole body fractured into drifting pixels, scattered by the rooftop wind.
And then—
—he opened his eyes.
The rooftop was gone.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed.
The world around him felt sharper, clearer. His room wasn't much, but it was enough. Wooden shelves lined with secondhand books, a desk stacked with worn notebooks, a closet leaning against the wall. The light from the window poured across a neatly folded blanket.
It wasn't luxury, but it wasn't misery either. The kind of place where someone lived quietly, stretching every won to survive, holding onto what little dignity they could afford. A little good. A little wealthy. Just enough.
Jihoon blinked, breathing hard. His chest still hurt, but the bruises were fading, like smoke drifting off his skin.
"…My room…?" he whispered.
The glow returned. Floating above his desk, words carved themselves into the air.
[Welcome home, Jihoon.]
[Your Survival begins now.]
The glowing letters shifted, neat as a game screen.
[Quest Generated.]
Jihoon blinked. "…A quest? Like… in a video game?"
[Yes. You complete it, you get a reward. Isn't that amazing?]
Jihoon straightened up, eyes trembling with sudden light.
"…Then—if I get a reward, I'll be stronger, right?!"
[Yes. The harder the quest, the rarer the reward.]
His fist clenched. His voice cracked, but it carried a desperate laugh.
"Y-yes! That's it! That's what I needed! Then what's next?!"
The words appeared slowly, almost like the system was savoring the moment.
[And if you fail… you die.]
[No restart button.]
Jihoon froze. The blood drained from his face.
"…Huh?"
[Isn't that great?]
Jihoon's jaw dropped. His lips trembled.
"No! That's not great at all! Who the hell thinks dying is great?!"
He flailed at the glowing screen, arms swinging wildly like a man trying to swat a ghost. The letters didn't even budge.
"…This system is insane…" Jihoon muttered, clutching his head, half laughing, half crying.
Jihoon sat there, staring at the screen, his hands still trembling.
"…Well… it's do or doesn't," he muttered under his breath.
[Correction: It's do or die.]
Jihoon's eyes twitched. "Why the hell are you correcting me right now!?"
He sighed and reached out, pressing the glowing letters. The screen shifted, opening into something new. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
"Wait… this… this is my first quest!??"
Jihoon's eyes widened as the glowing window shifted.
[Quest: A Son's Duty]
[Description: Your mother worries every day, yet you hide behind silence. You've been covering your bruises, too afraid to show her the truth of what happens at school. Tonight, she will call you again. Don't run. Don't lie. Speak to her. Help her with even the smallest task. Prove you can still be her son, not just a shadow in this house.]
[Reward: 3 Copper Cards, 1 Iron Card]
Jihoon's hand went to his face. The bruises, the swollen lip, the cuts—all gone. The system had erased them, leaving his skin unmarked, like nothing had ever happened.
His chest tightened. His throat stung.
"…This… this is my first quest?" he whispered, half afraid, half in disbelief.
The words pulsed in reply, cold and unshakable.
Jihoon paced in circles across his room, biting his thumb, his mind racing.
A quest. A reward. Cards. Death if he failed.
"Damn it… what am I supposed to do…" he muttered, chewing harder on his nail until it hurt.
Then—
The sound of a door unlocking below.
"I'm home."
Jihoon froze. His mother's voice.
Without thinking, he dashed out of his room, down the stairs two steps at a time. His heart thumped harder than when the bullies had hit him.
At the bottom, he saw her. His mother, carrying a bag full of vegetables and groceries, her shoulders weighed down but her expression soft.
"H-hello, Mom! L-let me help you with that!" Jihoon stammered, nearly tripping as he rushed forward. He grabbed the bags from her hands before she could protest.
She blinked in surprise. "…Jihoon?" A small smile spread across her lips. "Wow. Was today a special day?"
Jihoon swallowed hard, hugging the bags against his chest.
In his thoughts, words welled up.
My mother…
She had him young, pregnant before most girls even dreamed of marriage. And yet, even now—she was beautiful. That beauty just buried, hidden under the weight of stress and exhaustion. Lines on her face that shouldn't have been there. Eyes tired from carrying everything alone.
Jihoon clenched his jaw. But this time… it will change.
"I'll wash the vegetables, Mom. Just watch for today," Jihoon said with a small smile.
His mother froze in place, staring blankly at him like he had just grown a second head.
"…Are you really my son?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Jihoon blinked, nearly dropping the vegetables. "W-why are you asking that, Mom?"
She crossed her arms, lips twitching as if holding back laughter. "If you are my son… then what's my name?"
The system chimed in instantly, copying her words but twisting them.
[If you are her son… then what's her gamer tag?]
Jihoon stared at the floating text in disbelief, then looked back at his mother. He ignored the system and spoke softly.
"…Hana."
Her eyes widened just slightly at the sound of her name. For a moment, her tired face softened, the smile returning.
Jihoon held that smile in his heart. Yeah… this time, I'll change.
Jihoon set the cutting board down and placed the vegetables neatly on top. He gripped the knife tight, exhaled, and started slicing.
The blade tapped against the board.
[Chop… chop… chop…]
Jihoon flinched. "Wait—are you seriously making sound effects right now?"
[What? I'm setting the mood. Very professional, don't you think?]
He ground his teeth, cutting a little faster. The system hummed like it was critiquing art.
[Hmm. Your form is rough. Your angle—tragic. The rhythm—pathetic. But… not hopeless.]
Jihoon's eye twitched. "…What the hell!?" he burst out loud.
His mother's voice came from behind. "Jihoon? Are you okay? You've been staring at the wall and then just shouted instantly."
He stiffened, nearly dropping the knife.
"I-it's ok, Mom! It's nothing, really! Heheh…"
She blinked at him, then gave a soft laugh. "Strange boy."
Jihoon turned back to the vegetables, cheeks burning, the system floating smugly above the counter.
[Relax. At least you didn't cut off your finger. That's progress.]
Jihoon whispered through clenched teeth, "I swear, this thing is going to drive me insane…"
The screen pulsed.
[Correction: Not insane. You were already halfway there before I showed up.]
Jihoon's eyebrow twitched. "You…" He bit his tongue before he shouted again, knowing his mom would hear. The system hummed like it had just won the argument.
A few minutes later, the table was set. Jihoon and his mother sat across from each other, steam rising from the soup bowl. She lifted her spoon, took a sip, and her eyes widened.
"Wow… this is good! You've really inherited your father's talent at cooking."
Jihoon froze. His eyes drifted to the soup, the rippling surface reflecting a blur of his own face.
My father…
He had left before Jihoon was even born. Left his mother alone, carrying the burden of raising him without so much as a glance back. Jihoon didn't know the details, but the way he vanished, the silence he left behind—it filled him with anger.
A scumbag. That's all he is. Walking away from her like that…
"Jihoon?" His mother's voice pulled him back. She was watching him carefully, her hands folded on the table. "Are you okay? Is there something bothering you?"
She hesitated, then added softly, "If it's about your father… maybe he had reasons for doing it. I promise you, he's not the man you're imagining. He's more reliable… and kinder… than what you think."
Jihoon let out a slow breath. The anger twisted in his chest, but he forced a small smile for her sake.
"…Yeah. I trust you with that, Mother."
Her eyes softened, and just like that, the weight in the room lifted. They talked. They laughed. The clinking of spoons and the warmth of soup filled the air. For that short time, they looked like a normal family.
Jihoon set his spoon down, his hands tightening in his lap. His lips parted, the words caught in his throat, but he forced them out.
"Mother…"
She looked up, curious at the sudden seriousness in his tone.
"I… I have to tell you something." His voice cracked, eyes trembling as he stared at the table. "At school… I get bullied. Almost every day. They take my money, they beat me up, they laugh like I'm nothing. And the teachers—they just look away. They pretend not to see anything. Nobody helps. Nobody ever does."
The silence that followed was suffocating. His mother's eyes widened, her hand frozen above her bowl. Slowly, her expression crumbled—anger and sorrow crashing together.
"…Jihoon…" Her voice shook. "I… I didn't know. I should have seen it. I should have known better…" She pushed her chair back, stood up, and wrapped her arms around him. Her body trembled as much as his. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
Jihoon's shoulders stiffened, his throat burning. He clenched his fists against her back, shaking his head.
"No… it's my fault. I didn't say anything. I thought if I kept quiet, it would pass. But those scumbags… they don't stop. It doesn't matter who it is—old, young, even children—they'll crush anyone if they can."
Her hold on him tightened, her tears falling into his hair.
The system's voice cut through the heavy air.
[Touching scene detected. Warning: excessive crying may cause dehydration. Recommend two glasses of water.]
Jihoon's eye twitched mid-hug. "…You're seriously the worst timing machine I've ever met…" he muttered.
But even so, he leaned into his mother's embrace, her warmth seeping into him like sunlight after years of cold.
His mother wiped her cheeks and smiled faintly, brushing Jihoon's hair back.
"Do you want to transfer schools starting tomorrow?" she asked softly.
Jihoon shook his head immediately. "No… Mother…"
Her brow furrowed. "But you said they bully anyone. If that's true, why stay?"
He looked at her, his eyes steady despite the faint redness still lingering. "Mom… can you give me one week?"
She blinked. "One week?"
"Yes." He forced a little smile. "After that, I'll be happy to transfer to another school if things don't change."
There was a silence, then her lips curved into a warm smile. "Alright… one week it is. But first—" she leaned in, sniffed, and wrinkled her nose. "You reek of sweat. Let's go take a bath."
Jihoon's face turned crimson. "T-Together?? You mean together, Mom!!???"
"Of course," she said innocently. "Why?"
"W-Why!!? I'm a big boy now, Mom! I don't need someone with me when I take a bath!"
"Nonsense," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "I've seen you since you were a baby. What's there to be shy about?"
Jihoon nearly collapsed, covering his face. "Mooom!!"
The system chimed in, voice laced with unhelpful cheer.
[Embarrassment Level: 89%. Alert: subject Jihoon may drown in his own shame before entering the bathtub.]
Jihoon froze, grinding his teeth. "Shut up, system!!" His voice cracked so loud it echoed through the house.
His mother tilted her head, confused. "Jihoon? Who are you yelling at now?"
He forced a laugh, scratching his cheek. "I-it's nothing, Mom! Really!"
Inside, though, his heart was pounding like a drum—equal parts flustered, embarrassed, and oddly… comforted. For the first time in a long while, the house didn't feel empty.
His mother's smile softened, but then her lips trembled as if holding back a deeper feeling. She held his wrist gently, her voice low, almost pleading.
"Jihoon… this is the first time we've talked like this. Really talked. I want to enjoy it while it lasts."
Her eyes glistened, the weariness of years flashing through them—loneliness, silent battles, the weight of raising a son alone.
Jihoon froze, guilt pressing down on his chest. For so long, he had locked himself away, too ashamed of his bruises, too afraid of her worry. He lowered his gaze and whispered, "…Don't worry, Mom. It won't just 'last.' Starting from now on… it will always be like this."
Her lips parted, and a small, shaky smile appeared. "Then… fulfill my request. Is it too hard… for a mother to want some small affection from her own son?"
Jihoon's face instantly turned bright red. "W-what!? M-Mother!!"
The system chimed in, perfectly ruining the atmosphere:
[Yes! What she said! Affection quest unlocked: Hug your mother, coward!]
Jihoon's jaw dropped. "Shut up!!" His ears burned so hot he thought steam would come out.
His mother only tilted her head, curious at his sudden panic. "Jihoon? What's wrong?"
He looked away, biting his lip, unable to say anything. His fists trembled at his sides, torn between embarrassment and the simple truth—his mother just wanted him close, and he had denied her that for so long.
"…You're impossible, Mom," he muttered finally, cheeks still blazing, but his lips twitching toward a smile.
Steam filled the bathroom, fogging up the glass. Jihoon was already in the shower, trying to drown his face under the water, letting bubbles escape his mouth.
Creak. The shower door slid open.
He froze.
Then came the rustle of clothes being folded, the soft thump of fabric hitting the basket.
From behind him, his mother's voice carried a warm chuckle.
"It's been so long since we showered together. The last time… I think you were still four years old."
Jihoon's eyes widened, and he spun halfway around—only to turn back instantly, his ears burning red.
"W-what the hell, mom!?"
The system's voice echoed in his head, deadpan.
["Relax. It's called family bonding. Not like you're in a romance drama, you awkward little bean."]
Jihoon covered his face, water dripping down his cheeks, his heart pounding. Why am I like this… even if it's just my mom?
The steam wrapped around them like a blanket as the shower poured down. Jihoon sat awkwardly in the small bathtub, his face already red.
Then he felt it—warm arms gently wrapping around him from behind.
"M-Mom!!" Jihoon yelped, his whole body flaring up like a kettle on fire.
"Shhh," his mother whispered, resting her chin lightly on his shoulder. "I thought… it would never be like this again."
Jihoon froze, his heart thumping wildly.
"Jihoon," she continued softly, "don't do anything dangerous, alright? And if you ever feel like you can't go on… or just want to give up—succumbing to death isn't the answer." Her embrace tightened, her voice trembling with hidden fear.
Jihoon swallowed hard, trying to calm his racing pulse. "…Don't worry, Mom. It won't happen."
But in his thoughts, his eyes narrowed. They're the ones who are gonna die though…
The system chimed in, breaking the mood.
"Wow, from bullied schoolkid to dark anti-hero monologue… while naked in a bathtub with your mom. Truly, peak character development."
"SHUT UP!" Jihoon barked in his head, his face burning brighter than ever.
Steam filled the bathroom, wrapping the small tub in a warm haze. Jihoon was already red as a tomato, trying his best not to turn his head, when suddenly he felt a light pinch.
"M-Mom!!" Jihoon yelped, nearly jumping out of the water.
His mother giggled softly, tilting her head. "Oh my… Jihoon. You really have grown." Her cheeks warmed, though her smile stayed playful. "Remember, I'm your mother, alright? Don't let it get to your head."
Jihoon's face burned even hotter. "I-It's a misunderstanding, Mom! It's not what you think!" he stammered, flailing his arms before scrambling out of the tub, dripping wet and slipping as he dashed out of the bathroom.
Behind him, his mother covered her mouth, laughing. "Looks like your father's cooking isn't the only thing you inherited, Jihoon," she teased, her voice light with amusement.
[Congratulations. Quest "Helping Your Mother" completed. Reward issued: 3 Copper Cards, 1 Iron Card.
System Note: You also unlocked… extreme embarrassment.]
Jihoon collapsed onto his bed, still catching his breath, his body tingling from the bath and embarrassment. The warmth of the room couldn't calm the storm in his chest—his heart thumped wildly, a mix of disbelief, relief, and anticipation.
Then, the system interface glowed above his desk.
[Quest Complete: A Son's Duty]
[Rewards Issued: 3 Copper Cards, 1 Iron Card]
Jihoon froze, staring at the shimmering air in front of him. One by one, the cards began to materialize, glowing softly, hovering as if suspended by invisible strings.
"…This is… this is…!!!" His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper, yet the words rang like thunder in the small room.