The third night in this new world descended with a different kind of silence.
It was not an empty silence, but one filled with unfamiliar sounds: the low hum of distant crystal towers, the soft electric whir of aerial vehicles passing overhead, and, occasionally, a siren with a tone Ji-hoon had never heard before.
He lay awake on the large bed in the Kang family residence, eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling. He had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and brought home by his uncle. The house was spacious, quiet, and far too luxurious for someone who still felt like an outsider inside his own body.
Sleep refused to come.
Every time he closed his eyes, fragments of memories surfaced—Ji-hoon's old life in Seoul, Min-jae's childhood in this world, the white light, the system's cold voice, and the slow movement of the curtains that proved his ability was real.
Telekinesis. Level 1.
A power that existed, yet felt unreliable—like a muscle he had never used before.
Ji-hoon exhaled softly and turned his head toward the window. Thick curtains covered it completely, blocking the city lights outside. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of a digital clock on the bedside table.
00:47.
Almost midnight.
He focused his senses outward, imitating the strange awareness he had felt earlier. It was difficult, like trying to remember a dream after waking up. His perception stretched slightly, brushing against the still air, the fabric of the bedsheets, the solid walls around him.
Nothing unusual.
Just as he was about to give up, a subtle disturbance rippled through his awareness.
It was faint—so faint that he might have dismissed it as imagination if he hadn't been paying attention. Something… didn't belong.
Ji-hoon's body tensed.
The sound came from outside the room. A soft, almost imperceptible click. Metal against metal. Then silence.
Someone was inside the house.
His heart began to race, but his mind grew eerily calm. Fear was there, yes—but it was layered beneath a sharp, focused awareness. Perhaps Min-jae's instincts, or perhaps his own survival reflexes, were kicking in.
He slowly sat up, careful not to make a sound. The house was supposed to be secure, equipped with private security and surveillance. For someone to sneak in unnoticed meant one of two things: they were extremely skilled—or this intrusion was no ordinary crime.
Ji-hoon slid his feet onto the cold floor. He glanced around, looking for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon. His eyes landed on a metal desk lamp. He hesitated, then decided against it. Too heavy. Too clumsy.
Think, he told himself. You're not a fighter. Use what you have.
What he had was a strange power and a half-understood system.
He focused again, extending his perception beyond the door. The awareness came slowly, like ink spreading through water. He sensed the hallway—empty. Farther away, near the staircase, there was movement.
One presence.
Careful. Controlled. Deliberate.
Not a thief.
Ji-hoon swallowed.
He reached for his phone, then stopped. Calling for help would take time, and if the intruder noticed, things could turn violent instantly. He needed information first.
Silently, he eased the door open a few centimeters.
The hallway lights were off, but dim emergency lighting along the floor provided faint illumination. At the far end, near the stairs, a tall figure dressed in black stood motionless, as if listening.
A mask covered the person's face. Their posture was relaxed—too relaxed for someone trespassing.
The intruder turned their head slightly.
Ji-hoon froze.
For a terrifying moment, he thought he'd been detected. But the figure only paused, then continued moving toward the study room on the first floor.
The study…
Min-jae's memories surfaced. That was where his father's old documents were stored. Some were official, others… less so.
So this wasn't random.
Ji-hoon closed the door quietly and pressed his back against it. His breathing was shallow. His uncle was away on a late-night guild meeting. There were no guards inside the residence at night—only perimeter security.
He was alone.
A chill crept down his spine.
He focused inward, searching for the presence of the system.
I need help, he thought, not caring how desperate it sounded. What can I do?
There was no immediate response. No voice. No guidance.
Only the faint, humming sensation of his ability, like a dormant engine waiting to be pushed.
Ji-hoon clenched his fists.
Fine. Then I'll improvise.
He recalled the feeling from earlier—the sense of space, of subtle control. Instead of trying to move something directly, he expanded his awareness thinly, spreading it across the hallway floor.
He focused on the smooth tiles near the stairs.
Gently, he applied pressure—not downward, but sideways.
The effect was minimal. Barely noticeable. But the surface became just slightly slick, as if a thin layer of oil had been poured over it.
Ji-hoon's head throbbed. Sweat formed on his forehead. This kind of precise manipulation demanded intense concentration.
Moments later, footsteps approached the stairs.
The intruder descended silently, one step at a time.
Then—
A soft skid.
The figure's balance faltered for less than a second, but that was enough. Their hand shot out, grabbing the railing. Metal scraped quietly.
The intruder froze.
Ji-hoon's breath caught in his throat. Had he been discovered?
The figure stood still for several seconds, then slowly straightened. They looked down at the floor, then around the hallway. Their masked face tilted slightly—confused, perhaps.
After a brief pause, they continued down the stairs, moving more cautiously now.
Ji-hoon sagged against the door, relief mixing with dread. His trick had worked—but it had also alerted the intruder that something was off.
He couldn't keep this up. His head felt like it was splitting.
He needed a decisive move.
An idea formed—reckless, but possibly effective.
He waited until the intruder was inside the study room. He sensed them moving around, opening drawers, rifling through documents. Papers rustled softly.
Ji-hoon crept down the hallway, every step measured. He stopped outside the study, heart pounding.
The door was slightly ajar.
Inside, the intruder stood with their back turned, holding a thin data tablet. The study was dimly lit by the screen's glow.
Ji-hoon focused everything he had.
Not on the intruder.
On the door.
He imagined the door slamming shut—not violently, but suddenly. A sharp, startling motion.
He pushed.
The door swung shut with a solid thud.
The intruder spun around instantly, reaching for something at their waist.
But Ji-hoon didn't stop.
He shifted his focus to the desk lamp beside the door. It trembled, lifted a few centimeters off the desk, then flew—not fast, not powerful, but fast enough.
It struck the intruder's shoulder.
The impact wasn't strong, but it was unexpected. The intruder staggered back, crashing into the desk. Papers scattered everywhere.
"—!"
A muffled sound escaped from behind the mask.
Ji-hoon's vision swam. Pain lanced through his temples. Blood trickled from his nose.
Too much, his body screamed.
The intruder recovered quickly, far faster than a normal person. They straightened, eyes locking onto Ji-hoon.
"So it's true," a distorted voice said through the mask. "The boy awakened."
Ji-hoon's heart sank.
"You shouldn't be here," the intruder continued calmly, as if commenting on the weather. "You don't understand what you're involved in."
Ji-hoon forced himself to stand his ground. "You broke into my house. That's enough reason."
The intruder chuckled softly. "This house? This research? None of it really belongs to you. It belongs to history."
They took a step forward.
Ji-hoon felt his legs weaken. He tried to summon his ability again—but his mind was foggy, his focus slipping.
Just as the intruder raised their hand—
Red light flooded the room.
A sharp pressure slammed down, pinning the intruder in place. The air itself seemed to solidify.
"Step away from my nephew."
Uncle Dae-hyun's voice rang out, cold and authoritative.
He stood at the doorway, one hand raised, crimson energy swirling around it. His eyes burned with restrained fury.
The intruder clicked their tongue. "Chrono Vanguard really does respond fast."
"You're leaving," Dae-hyun said. "Now."
For a moment, the two forces clashed in silence. Then the intruder laughed.
"This isn't over," they said, locking eyes with Ji-hoon. "We'll meet again, awakened one."
In the next instant, the intruder's body dissolved into black particles, dispersing into the air like smoke. The pressure vanished.
The room fell silent.
Ji-hoon's legs finally gave out. He collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Dae-hyun rushed to his side. "Min-jae! Are you hurt?"
"I… I'm okay," Ji-hoon said weakly. "Who was that?"
Dae-hyun's expression darkened. "An agent from Ouroboros. Or at least, someone connected to them."
Ouroboros.
The name echoed ominously in Ji-hoon's mind.
"They were after Father's research, weren't they?" Ji-hoon asked.
"Yes," Dae-hyun replied grimly. "And now… they know you've awakened."
Ji-hoon clenched his fists.
The night had changed everything.
This wasn't just about entering the academy anymore.
He was already being hunted.