The restaurant reservation was for eight, but Jae-Hyun's parents insisted on leaving the Apex compound early.
"We want to enjoy the drive," his mother had said with a smile. "It's not every day we celebrate thirty years."
So they left at seven, the three of them squeezed comfortably into Jae-Hyun's audi.
Seoul's winter night pressed against the windows: streets bright with holiday lights, traffic flowing smoothly along the elevated expressway that skirted the Han River district.
His father rode shotgun, scrolling through photos on his phone. "Look at this one from your first tournament. You were twelve and already beating high-schoolers."
Jae-Hyun laughed softly, eyes on the road. "You still have that?"
"Of course. Proud parents never delete anything."
His mother leaned forward from the back seat. "And this one from our wedding. Same restaurant, actually. Full circle."
The mood was light, warm, the kind of evening Jae-Hyun cherished most.
Then the sky split open.
It started with silence: every radio station cut to static, every digital billboard froze, every traffic light blinked out at once. For one heartbeat, the city held its breath.
Then came the sound: a deep, bone-rattling crack, as if reality itself had fractured.
Above the expressway, a massive crimson rift tore across the night. Bigger than any Jae-Hyun had ever seen on the news. Red-class, maybe worse.
Sirens wailed instantly. Emergency broadcasts blared from car speakers that somehow rebooted.
"Red Gate outbreak confirmed in Han River sector. All civilians evacuate immediately. Repeat: Red Gate. Hunters and Players are responding."
The road ahead erupted into chaos.
Cars swerved. Brakes screeched. A truck jackknifed, blocking three lanes. From the rift poured monsters: hulking ogres with stone-like skin, packs of razor-wolves the size of bears, swarms of wyverns blotting out the stars.
Jae-Hyun slammed the brakes. The car fishtailed but stopped inches from the car in front.
"Get down!" he shouted.
An ogre landed on the expressway twenty meters ahead, shaking the entire structure. It swung a club the size of a tree trunk, smashing two vehicles into scrap. Screams filled the air.
His parents froze for a split second, then moved with the practiced calm of people who had lived through smaller breaks.
His father grabbed the emergency beacon under the seat: Apex priority distress signal. "Activating now. Rescue choppers will prioritize us."
His mother was already dialing internal channels. "This is Dr. Lee Ji-Eun, level-seven clearance. We're on the expressway with civilian son. Need immediate extraction."
Jae-Hyun's hands tightened on the wheel. He scanned for an exit, but both sides were gridlocked. Monsters were closing in.
A razor-wolf leaped onto a nearby SUV, tearing through the roof. The family inside screamed.
He felt it then: the helplessness he had always known existed but never touched. No sword. No armor. No mana. Just flesh against things that devoured cities.
Players arrived first: black Apex choppers descending through the chaos, ropes dropping. Armored figures rappelled down, weapons blazing artificial mana in brilliant blue arcs.
Monsters fell, but more poured out.
One team zeroed in on the beacon. A Player in heavy exo-suit landed beside their car, visor up.
"Dr. Kang! Dr. Lee! This way!"
They moved fast. Jae-Hyun helped his mother out first. His father stumbled: debris had slashed his leg. Blood soaked his pants.
A wyvern dove. The Player escort raised his rifle, blasting it mid-air, but the shockwave rocked them all.
His parents were loaded onto the chopper. Jae-Hyun started to follow.
Then he saw her.
Ten meters away, amid overturned cars and flames, a little girl: no older than eight, clutching a woman's body. Her mother, lifeless, chest torn open. The girl wailed, frozen in place as a razor-wolf circled.
No Players near her. No one coming.
Time slowed.
His mother's voice from the chopper: "Jae-Hyun! Come on!"
He met her eyes. Saw the terror there.
"I'll be right behind you," he lied.
He jumped from the skid before anyone could stop him.
"Jae-Hyun!"
He sprinted through the carnage. Dodged falling debris. Vaulted a wrecked hood. The wolf lunged at the girl.
Jae-Hyun slid feet-first, kicking a loose rebar into its path. The beast snarled, distracted for a fatal second.
A Player sniper from a nearby chopper finished it with a mana-charged round.
Jae-Hyun scooped the girl up. She clung to him, silent now from shock, face buried in his shoulder.
He ran back. The chopper hovered lower. Hands pulled them aboard.
As they lifted off, Jae-Hyun looked down.
The expressway was hell.
Hundreds of bodies. Burning cars. Monsters still pouring out. Players and late-arriving Hunters fighting desperately, but overwhelmed.
The rift pulsed wider.
His parents lay on the floor of the chopper, medics already working. His father's leg tourniqueted. His mother's side bleeding heavily from shrapnel.
They were alive. Barely.
The girl trembled in his arms, still clutching a piece of her mother's coat.
Jae-Hyun stared out the window until the chaos faded behind mana barriers and emergency floodlights.
He had never felt so small.
So powerless.
The chopper banked toward the Apex medical facility.
Below, Seoul burned under a crimson sky.
And for the first time in his life, Jae-Hyun wished he had said yes.