The following morning arrived far too quickly for Elion. He awoke to the sound of a melodic tune blaring from a small device on the bedside table. His instincts flared; he bolted upright, ready to draw a sword that wasn't there. The world around him swam for a moment before settling into the cold, modern dormitory that now served as his cage.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his daze. It swung open to reveal the boyish-faced bandmate from the previous night, who was balancing a tray of food with a grin that looked almost painfully bright.
"Hyung, you're up!" he said, stepping inside. "You missed dinner yesterday, so I figured you'd be starving."
Elion blinked, his mind struggling to process the boy's exuberance. "I… Thank you."
The boy's smile widened. "Eat up. We've got a packed schedule today. Rehearsal at the studio, then a meeting with management. And don't worry, I told the others to cut you some slack. We're just glad you're back."
Packed schedule? Rehearsals? Elion's stomach tightened, though he forced himself to take a bite of the food. To his surprise, it was good—a savory mix of flavors that reminded him of simpler meals shared with comrades around a campfire.
The boy chattered on, oblivious to Elion's growing unease. "By the way, don't forget the choreography. The fans love it when we're in sync, and…"
Elion tuned him out, his gaze drifting to the translucent panel that had reappeared in the corner of his vision.
Integration 10% Complete. Mana Channels Stable.
The words pulsed faintly, as if mocking him. Integration into what? This life? This role? He clenched his fist under the table, the faint warmth of mana responding to his frustration.
Objective: Adapt to Host's Life. Survival Probability: 40%.
The boy's voice cut through his thoughts. "Hyung, you okay? You've been spacing out a lot."
Elion forced a smile, though it felt foreign on his face. "I'm fine. Just… trying to adjust."
The boy nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I get it. The pressure gets to all of us sometimes. Just remember, we've got your back."
Elion's grip on his fork tightened. Back in his world, loyalty was earned through battle, through shared blood and sweat. Here, it seemed to be given freely, without question. It unsettled him.
---
Rehearsals were a new kind of torment. The studio was a cavernous space lined with mirrors, the air heavy with the faint smell of sweat and polished wood. Elion found himself surrounded by the other members of Nova Luna, each one moving with practiced precision to the thumping beat of a song that seemed to invade his skull.
"Jin-seok, you're a beat behind," the choreographer barked, clapping her hands. "Again!"
Elion swallowed his frustration and tried to mimic the movements. His body was lithe and agile, but the steps felt awkward, like trying to wield a blade with the wrong hand. He stumbled, earning a sigh from the choreographer and concerned glances from his bandmates.
"Focus, Jin-seok," the tallest of the group muttered under his breath. "You're better than this."
Better? Elion wanted to laugh. In his world, he had led armies, fought monsters, and stood against forces that would crush these people in an instant. But here, he couldn't even master a simple dance routine.
By the end of the session, his muscles burned, and his patience wore thin. The others seemed used to the grueling pace, barely breaking a sweat as they reviewed the footage of their performance.
"You'll get the hang of it," the boyish-faced member said, clapping Elion on the shoulder. "Just takes practice."
Elion managed a nod, though his thoughts churned. He needed to understand this world—its rules, its expectations—if he was to survive. And for that, he needed more than just practice. He needed control.
---
That evening, back at the dorm, Elion sat cross-legged on the floor of his room. The translucent panel hovered before him, its faint glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.
"System," he said quietly, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "What are you?"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, new text appeared, scrolling across the panel like a whisper in the dark.
System Functionality Overview:
Mana Manipulation: Active
Skill Development: Locked
Integration Progress: 12%
Note: Host must adapt to physical and societal expectations to unlock further capabilities.
Elion's brow furrowed. "Adaptation? You expect me to embrace this life?"
The panel's glow dimmed slightly, as if in response.
He exhaled sharply, his frustration simmering just below the surface. Fine. If this was a game, he would play it. But he wouldn't lose himself in the process.
Closing his eyes, he focused inward, searching for the faint warmth of mana that had eluded him since his arrival. It was there, like a tiny ember nestled deep within his chest. He reached for it, coaxing it to life.
The warmth grew, spreading through his veins like liquid fire. His breathing slowed, his mind sharpening. The world outside faded, leaving only the rhythm of his heartbeat and the steady pulse of mana.
When he opened his eyes, the panel displayed a new message.
Mana Channels Enhanced. Skill Development Unlocked.
A list of abilities appeared, though most were grayed out, their names obscured. One, however, glowed faintly.
Skill Acquired: Resonant Voice
Elion's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And in this unfamiliar world, every step forward was a victory.
"Let's see what this life has to offer," he muttered, the determination in his voice unwavering.