Jin-Su wandered through the academy halls, his footsteps slow and deliberate as memories of a time long gone resurfaced. He had walked these same paths for two years, back when everything had been simpler—when the war hadn't broken him. The dormitory corridors were unchanged, the same polished stone floors and dimly glowing lamps that lined the walls. He remembered how they flickered on during the quiet nights, casting long shadows that he used to find oddly comforting.
But now, it wasn't comfort that filled him. It was nostalgia, mixed with a faint sense of sorrow. So much has changed.
The faint scent of old wood, the echo of his footsteps—it was all the same. Yet, Jin-Su himself was different. In his past life, this place had been a sanctuary, a brief respite from the chaos outside. Now, he walked these halls as someone reborn, carrying the weight of everything he had endured.
His thoughts drifted to his roommate. Back then, Min-Ho had been the one bright spot in an otherwise bleak experience. The kind of person who asked for nothing, expected nothing, and gave everything. Min-Ho had always been there to help, no matter how small the issue—whether it was assignments, navigating social politics, or just having someone to talk to. Jin-Su had never fully realized how much he'd relied on Min-Ho until the war had torn everything apart. Now, he wondered what it would be like to see him again, even if Min-Ho wouldn't remember the closeness they had shared in the past.
As Jin-Su approached the dorm room, he paused for a moment, standing just outside the door. He felt a rush of emotions—gratitude for Min-Ho's unwavering kindness, sadness for the distance that now separated them, and the unfamiliar twinge of fear that came with his newfound reputation. He had changed, and it wasn't just his abilities. People looked at him differently now, and he wasn't sure how Min-Ho would react.
But before entering, Jin-Su made a detour. The academy's student shop was nearby, and an idea had formed in his mind—a small gesture, a token of appreciation for Min-Ho, who had given him so much without asking for anything in return.
The shop was nestled near the edge of the academy grounds, filled with an assortment of trinkets, books, and various items that catered to students. As Jin-Su stepped inside, a soft chime rang out, and the scent of old paper and incense greeted him. He wandered through the rows of shelves, his eyes scanning for something meaningful. His gaze fell upon a small statue—a green turtle, no larger than the palm of his hand.
Perfect.
As Jin-Su picked up the statue, a voice floated toward him. "That's a beautiful choice."
He looked up to see the shopkeeper, a woman who exuded elegance and warmth. Her long, dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her eyes had a knowing glint as she approached him. She moved with a grace that suggested she was accustomed to attention, but there was nothing pretentious about her demeanor.
"That little turtle represents more than just a cute decoration," she said with a soft smile, her voice soothing and melodic. "It signifies a friendship as long as the life of the giant green mountain turtle—immortal, and as enduring as a mountain."
Jin-Su paused, staring at the statue in his hands. So that's why... He remembered now. In the past, Min-Ho had gifted him a similar statue during their second year, and at the time, Jin-Su had been too focused on other things to give it much thought. But now, with the shopkeeper's words in mind, it all made sense. The turtle wasn't just a gift; it was a symbol of the bond between them—one that Min-Ho had always believed in.
He handed over the small amount of currency he had, realizing just how little he had to his name compared to the vast wealth he once held in the future. It felt almost ironic, yet it didn't matter. The gesture was what counted.
As Jin-Su left the shop, turtle in hand, he couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at his lips. This time, I'll show you what it means, Min-Ho.
When Jin-Su finally arrived at the dorm room, he hesitated again before pushing the door open. The familiar sound of something rustling filled the air, and there, sitting at his desk, was Min-Ho, dressed in plain, comfortable clothes. He was bent over a notebook, furiously scribbling notes. His short, neatly combed hair and focused expression were exactly as Jin-Su remembered.
The room itself hadn't changed either. It was modest, with two small beds, a couple of desks, and a window that let in the late afternoon light. Jin-Su felt a wave of nostalgia hit him again, harder this time.
Min-Ho looked up, his eyes widening in recognition. For a moment, Jin-Su expected the warmth he had always felt when Min-Ho smiled, but instead, there was something else in his gaze—something like fear, mixed with reverence. He stood up quickly, awkwardly brushing off his clothes as if preparing for an important guest.
"Uh, you must be... Jin-Su, right?" Min-Ho stammered, his tone cautious. "I've heard... a lot about you."
Jin-Su blinked, realizing what had changed. Of course. The fight. Word must have spread about him standing up to Kang-Woo and defending the weak girl. He was no longer just another student in the academy. He was someone, and Min-Ho, ever the empathetic one, seemed to be feeling the weight of that.
"Yeah, that's me," Jin-Su said, trying to sound casual. He stepped further into the room, setting his bag down on his bed. "Nice to meet you... again."
Min-Ho nodded, his eyes darting to the side, clearly unsure of how to act. "I mean... I know who you are. Everyone's been talking about the fight. It was... incredible." He shifted nervously, as if Jin-Su's presence was too overwhelming. "You really showed Kang-Woo who's boss."
Jin-Su shook his head, slightly frustrated by the distance he suddenly felt between them. "It wasn't a big deal. He needed to be put in his place."
But Min-Ho didn't seem convinced. His gaze lingered on Jin-Su with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Still... you're like... really strong now."
Jin-Su sighed internally. He wasn't used to this. The reverence, the awe—it made him uncomfortable, especially coming from Min-Ho, the one person who had never treated him like anything other than a friend in the past.
"I got you something," Jin-Su said, breaking the tension. He pulled the small green turtle statue from his bag and held it out. "Figured it might look good on your desk."
Min-Ho blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the gesture. He hesitated for a moment before taking the statue, his expression softening. "Oh... wow. Thank you. It's really nice."
Jin-Su nodded, watching as Min-Ho placed the turtle carefully on his desk, next to his books and notes. For the first time since they'd reunited, there was a glimmer of the old Min-Ho—the bright, kind person who had always been there for him.
"I figured you'd like it," Jin-Su said quietly. "It's supposed to represent a long-lasting friendship, you know? Thought it was fitting."
Min-Ho looked at the statue, then back at Jin-Su, his smile returning, though it was still tinged with nervousness. "Yeah... it really is."
Jin-Su could feel the distance between them still lingering, but at least now, it didn't feel as insurmountable. Things had changed. He had changed. But Min-Ho was still the same—still the beacon of light that Jin-Su had clung to in the darkness.
As the evening sun cast a warm glow over the room, Jin-Su realized that while the past couldn't be erased, there were still pieces of it worth holding onto.
Jin-Su leaned back against his bed, the quiet comfort of the room settling around him. For a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed. The familiar hum of the dormitory, the soft scratching of Min-Ho's pen on paper as he worked at his desk—it was almost like the past two years of pain and war had never happened. But they had, and no matter how much nostalgia tried to lull him into a false sense of security, Jin-Su knew better.
His eyes shifted toward Min-Ho. In the past, he had never truly considered the idea of evaluating the people around him in this way, but now, with the system at his disposal, everything had changed. It was time to see what the future held for his old friend.
Without a word, Jin-Su activated Abyssal Knowledge, the familiar aura of the system flickering into place as it scanned Min-Ho.
Name: Min-Ho
Gender: Male
Stats:
Strength:11/25Agility:18/35Endurance:12/25Intelligence:15/25Willpower:14/28Charisma:17/40
Jin-Su observed the results with mild interest. Min-Ho was just as he remembered—average in almost every way. But his agility and charisma stood out, not extraordinarily high but certainly promising for someone who hadn't yet reached their full potential. In this world, where abilities would grow as students developed their talents, Min-Ho had a solid foundation. Nothing ground-shaking, but it made sense. It was the beginning of the school year, after all.
Jin-Su allowed the results to fade from his vision and shifted on his bed. It was time to introduce himself—properly this time, just like in the old timeline.
"Hey," Jin-Su started, leaning forward slightly. Min-Ho looked up from his notes, clearly surprised that Jin-Su was initiating conversation after the awkward introduction earlier. "I'm Jin-Su. Sorry for all the buzz around the fight. I didn't mean to come off... strange."
Min-Ho blinked before offering a small, nervous smile. "Oh, no worries. I'm Min-Ho. It's, uh, kind of nice to have a roommate who's not, you know, afraid to stand up to people like Kang-Woo."
Jin-Su nodded, smiling slightly, though his mind wandered to the years they had spent together in the past timeline. "So, what's your story?"
Min-Ho chuckled, clearly warming up as the conversation flowed. "Well, nothing special, really. I'm just here to get my degree, survive the academy, and... well, you know, do what my family expects." He scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed. "My little brother's the real star of the family. He's got all the talent, while I'm just... coasting."
Jin-Su laughed softly, feeling the faint warmth of familiarity. "I know what you mean. I've got a little sister, and she's a handful. Sometimes it feels like she's the one who'll end up saving the world."
They both laughed, and for the first time since their reunion, Jin-Su felt the tension between them ease. They shared their stories about their families, both of them coming from similar backgrounds, and for a moment, Jin-Su almost forgot the weight of the responsibilities and powers he carried. Min-Ho's little brother sounded energetic and full of potential, while Jin-Su's memories of Ji-Eun, his little sister, filled him with a bittersweet longing.
After a while, the room grew quieter, the conversation having lulled into a comfortable silence.
"Well, I should probably head out," Jin-Su said, standing up and stretching. "I'm going to check out the library. I need to look up a few things."
Min-Ho looked curious. "What are you researching?"
Jin-Su paused. "A few things about... well, about the academy, mostly. There's some history I need to read up on."
He didn't offer any more details, and Min-Ho didn't push. Jin-Su grabbed his jacket, nodded to Min-Ho, and left the room. The halls outside were darker now, the glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the stone walls. But as soon as he stepped outside, a soft ball of light appeared, hovering just above his shoulder—a security enchantment the school had set up for the students to navigate safely in the dark. He noticed other students walking with similar floating lights, and it gave the courtyard an almost ethereal glow.
Jin-Su didn't mind the dark, but the magical light was comforting in its own way. No curfew meant the academy was always alive, with students moving between buildings even at night.
He made his way toward the library, using the map in his phone. His mind turning to the questions that had been gnawing at him since his return. The system, the abyss, the powers that lurked in the shadows—there were things he needed to understand. And in the quiet recesses of the library, hidden among dusty tomes, Jin-Su was determined to find the answers.
Jin-Su stepped into the vast library, the heavy wooden doors creaking softly behind him as he entered. The atmosphere shifted immediately—quieter, almost unnaturally so, as if the sounds of the outside world had been muted the moment he crossed the threshold. Rows of ancient shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with tomes, scrolls, and books that held secrets both mundane and arcane. The air smelled faintly of old paper and dust, tinged with something more ethereal, like the lingering remnants of magic long forgotten.
He walked forward cautiously, his light ball dimming slightly in the darkened aisles, casting flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls. It was peaceful, but also unnerving. There was something about this place—the way it seemed to exist almost outside of time, like stepping into a forgotten realm.
As he approached the central desk, Jin-Su's eyes scanned the area for someone in charge. For a moment, it seemed like the library was completely empty. But as he squinted, his focus shifting, he noticed a figure—an old man sitting behind the desk, so still and quiet that he had nearly blended into the background.
The librarian was ancient, with a wrinkled face that looked like it had seen centuries pass. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes, half-hidden beneath heavy eyelids, were faded with age. His presence was so faint, so unobtrusive, that Jin-Su hadn't even realized he was there until he concentrated on him. It was as though the librarian was more shadow than man, barely there unless you chose to notice him.
The old man's voice was soft but carried with it a weight that demanded attention. "Welcome... to the library, young one."
Jin-Su nodded, standing at attention. The librarian slowly lifted his gaze, his movements deliberate and slow, as though time meant little to him. His voice, though quiet, was clear and precise, every word spoken as if it had been practiced for decades.
"Before you begin your studies, there are rules that must be followed." He leaned forward slightly, the dim light catching the deep creases of his face. "Breaking them will earn you strikes. And three strikes will see you barred from the library for twelve days."
Jin-Su arched an eyebrow. Strikes?
The librarian continued, unfazed. "Rule one: No use of magic within the library's walls unless authorized for study. Spells disrupt the sanctity of this place, and we do not tolerate... disruption." His gaze flickered to Jin-Su's light ball, hovering near his shoulder. "The school's enchantments are permitted, but nothing more."
"Rule two: Silence is sacred. Conversations above a whisper will be met with... consequences. The books demand respect."
Jin-Su remained still, listening intently. The old man's voice was hypnotic, like the library itself, quiet but with an unshakable presence.
"Rule three: Books must be returned in the condition they were borrowed. Any damage or... modifications... will result in immediate removal from the premises."
The librarian's voice dropped, almost as if whispering to the shadows. "Three strikes... and the library will reject you. You will be teleported to the entrance, and the doors will remain closed to you for twelve days. Choose your actions wisely."
Jin-Su nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. This library wasn't just a place of learning—it was something more, something almost alive with its own set of laws. The idea of being teleported out for breaking the rules wasn't just a deterrent—it felt like a promise.
As the librarian finished, he leaned back into his chair, his form fading slightly once more into the background. It was as if his presence became less noticeable again, like he was part of the shadows that filled the room.
"Do you understand, young one?"
"Yes," Jin-Su said, his voice low but firm.
"Good." The old man's eyes closed slightly. "Then may your studies be fruitful."
With that, Jin-Su turned away from the desk, making his way deeper into the library's endless aisles. There was something here—something waiting for him within these walls. He could feel it, like the distant hum of magic lingering in the air. He would find his answers here.
But as he walked, Jin-Su remained acutely aware of the rules, knowing that in this place, even the slightest infraction could have real consequences.
Jin-Su's eyes scanned the pages, his fingers moving over the ancient texts as though he could will the truth to reveal itself more clearly. The patterns of Nyas' influence were unmistakable—subtle, but now painfully obvious to him. The signs were all over the world. It wasn't just one isolated event, not one remote corner of the globe. Nyas had his tendrils everywhere—wars, disasters, disappearances, madness. It was all connected, and it had been happening for so long, right under everyone's nose.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Nyas had been pulling the strings all along.
A rush of anger surged through him, hotter and more bitter than he had felt in a long time. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the books in front of him seemed to blur. All this time... I was played like a damn fiddle.
The future he had fought for, the battles he had waged, the decisions he had made—all of it. Had it been part of Nyas' grand design? Every move Jin-Su made, every choice, every sacrifice—it all seemed tainted now. Nyas had been there, lurking in the shadows, manipulating events without Jin-Su ever realizing it.
Was I ever free of his influence?
The thought made his stomach twist. The battles he had fought with such conviction, the victories that had felt so hard-earned, now felt like nothing more than a cruel joke. I thought I was fighting for something good, for something real, Jin-Su thought, a bitter laugh rising in his throat. But all along, I was being played.
He slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing sharply in the silence of the library. His vision blurred with fury. Nyas had been in control—always in control. And I didn't even know.
Jin-Su gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of betrayal—not just by his comrades in the past, but by the very fabric of reality itself. Had any of his victories meant anything? Or had he been nothing more than a puppet, dancing to the whims of an eldritch force far beyond his comprehension?
His mind raced, darting back to the days when he had been under the command of the authorities in the future. They had led him into countless battles, given him orders that made no sense, forced him to fight in conflicts that seemed devoid of logic. Had they been under Nyas' influence too? Had the whole system been compromised from the very start?
The generals, the leaders, the governments... Could they all have been puppets too? Jin-Su's breath hitched as the paranoia started to gnaw at him. Was anyone not touched by the Abyss?
He looked around the library, his eyes flicking toward the few distant figures hunched over books, completely unaware of the chaos that lurked just beneath the surface of their world. Were they under Nyas' control too? How far did this influence reach?
Jin-Su's mind spiraled. What if everyone here—every student, every teacher, every person in the academy—was already compromised? He had seen firsthand how Nyas could twist minds, turn trusted allies into enemies, warp reality itself. How could he be sure that the people around him weren't already lost to the Abyss?
For a brief moment, the walls of the library seemed to close in, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on him. What if they're all watching me? What if they're already his?
The paranoia was suffocating, wrapping around his chest like a vice. The feeling of being manipulated, of being powerless, was unbearable. He had been fighting for so long, believing he could change the course of history, but now it felt as though the war had been rigged from the start.
Jin-Su gripped the edge of the table, his nails digging into the wood. This is exactly what he wants. He wants me to doubt everything, to break down. But even as he tried to rationalize it, the doubts lingered. Had his entire life been a lie? A carefully crafted illusion designed to keep him in check?
As his thoughts raced, something stirred within him. A dark tendril of magic slowly ejected from his core, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. It was his Abyssal Influence—the familiar, calming presence that soothed his frayed nerves. The tendril coiled gently, pushing away the overwhelming paranoia, cooling the anger burning inside him. His heartbeat slowed, his mind clearing just enough to focus.
No more playing into his hands. No more being the pawn.
With a determined breath, Jin-Su stood, pushing the chair back slowly. He needed to get out of the library, clear his head. The books in front of him felt tainted now, as if they were part of the trap Nyas had set for him. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, even though he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Just as he turned to leave, he froze. The air around him seemed to shift, a faint ripple of energy that made his skin prickle. When he turned back toward the exit, the librarian was standing there, as though he had appeared out of thin air.
The old man's faded eyes met Jin-Su's, a subtle knowing glimmer in them. He stood with the same eerie stillness that had marked his presence before, almost like a shadow.
"You dropped the book, right?" the librarian asked softly, his tone so calm it felt unsettling. There was no reprimand, no judgment in his voice—just a simple, almost casual question. But the weight of the words sank into Jin-Su like a stone.
The way he said it—Jin-Su knew immediately. The librarian already knew that he punched the table. He knew exactly what Jin-Su had done, how he had reacted, which books he read, where he sat, what was he doing. The librarian had been watching, aware of every moment, every slip in Jin-Su's composure.
And yet, he was offering Jin-Su a way out. A chance. An unspoken agreement to let this go without consequences. A free pass.
Jin-Su swallowed, the tension in his chest easing just slightly as he understood the meaning behind the question. The librarian was giving him this one moment of grace—a way to leave without further issue.
But as the old man's eyes lingered on him, Jin-Su felt a deeper understanding settle in. There won't be another free out after this. Next one will be a strike.
Jin-Su gave a slow nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah... I must've dropped it."
The librarian held his gaze for a moment longer, then with a nod of his own, turned and disappeared back into the shadows, just as silently as he had come.
Jin-Su exhaled, his hands shaking slightly as he left the library, his thoughts still swirling with the revelations of the night. But one thing was clear—Nyas had already sunk his claws deep into this world, and he had no idea how far the corruption had spread.