The system archive

There was a time when the world made sense. People lived. People died. Cities were loud. Hearts were quiet. Then the System came. It didn’t crash down from the sky with thunder or violence. It simply appeared — like a whisper slipped into the corner of your vision. A blue window. A soundless chime. A choice. Most remembered the first time it spoke to them. [You have awakened.] [Choose your Class.] [Survive.] But I don’t remember mine. Not because it was forgettable. But because it didn’t happen. The world had already changed by the time I opened my eyes to it. Portals in the sky. Dungeon breaches in shopping malls. Stat sheets instead of resumes. Everyone was chasing something — levels, power, safety, revenge. Even those who didn’t want to fight still clung to the System’s comfort. Everyone wanted something. Except me. My name is Ha Jaehoen. I wasn’t a hero. I wasn’t late. I wasn’t chosen. When the blue screen finally greeted me a year after everyone else, it didn’t offer a Class. No Title. No Skill Tree. Just five words: > [You are a Blank.] [Access granted: Archive Layer 0.] I blinked. The screen shimmered. Lines of broken code danced behind it — as if something was trying to stop it from speaking. Something watching. And then I saw a sixth line. One that shouldn't exist. > [You were never supposed to wake up.]