The refrigerator wheezed in the dark, its rattling hum the only company Jin-ho had left. He sat on the floor of the empty apartment, knees drawn to his chest, staring at the book splayed open in front of him. Its pages glowed faintly, like the screen of a dying phone. The peeling wallpaper and dust-caked family photos—his parents' smiling faces frozen behind glass—felt like relics from someone else's life.
He pressed his palm flat against the book. "Give me something useful," he said, louder this time. The words tasted bitter. Begging to a damn book.
The pages shuddered. Ink bled and twisted into sharp, angular text:
Skill Synthesis Activated.
Core desires detected: Survival. Control.
Synthesizing…
A flash of blue light seared his vision. When it faded, new words glared up at him:
Spatial Sense (C-Tier).
Detect movement within 10 meters. Duration: 30 minutes. Cost: 15 Mana.
"Mana?" Jin-ho muttered. The word sounded ridiculous, like something from one of those mobile games his classmates wasted money on. But he felt it instantly—a cold tug in his ribs, as if the book had hooked a fishbone under his skin and yanked.
He stood, testing the skill. Suddenly, the apartment felt alive. He heard roaches skittering inside the walls, water dripping from a pipe two floors down, and… something else. A low, staticky vibration, like a radio tuned between stations.
The book flickered.
Mana reserve: 45%.
"Yeah, yeah," he snapped, pacing the room. His socked feet kicked an empty ramen cup. He needed more. Better.
1:03 AM
The knife block on the kitchen counter gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light. Jin-ho stared at his reflection warped in the blade—pale, hollow-eyed, a stranger.
"I don't just want to see threats," he said to the book, voice tight. "I want to end them."
The pages erupted, flapping wildly as if caught in a storm. Words spiraled into a command:
Instinct Counter (B-Tier).
Requirements: 50 Mana. Blood sacrifice (minimal).
Accept?
"Blood sacri—" He didn't finish. His hand moved on its own, thumb pressing against the knife's edge. A bead of red swelled, then dripped onto the page.
The world lurched.
His body spun before his brain registered the sound—a cockroach darting across the cracked linoleum. His heel came down with a sickening crunch.
Instinct Counter mastery: 71%.
Mana remaining: 12%.
Jin-ho sagged against the counter, temples throbbing. The book's text swam mockingly:
Recommendation: Rest.
Alternative: Consume souls to replenish Mana.
"Souls?" His laugh came out jagged. "What am I, a ghoul?"
The book snapped shut.
2:30 AM
The fog swallowed the city whole.
Jin-ho leaned over the balcony railing, Seoul's neon glow smothered under a blanket of gray. His phone buzzed—another emergency alert: Fog incident in Mapo. Survivors report "whispers" in the mist.
The book burned against his thigh, hotter by the second. He flipped it open.
Emergency: Shadowlurker detected (B-Tier).
Radius: 2 kilometers.
Options: Flee (34% survival) or engage (ambient Mana required).
"Engage how?" he hissed. "I'm at 12%!"
The book didn't care.
Nearest Mana source: Rats. 3 meters below.
Jin-ho looked down. The apartment dumpster overflowed with trash bags, their shadows squirming. Living organisms. Souls.
The fog crept closer, snuffing out streetlights one by one. Somewhere in the murk, something hissed—a sound like nails dragging over glass.
He gripped the railing, knuckles white. The rats screeched faintly below.
Do it, the book seemed to whisper. Become the predator. Or die as prey.
Jin-ho's breath fogged in the air.
He climbed onto the railing.