The air in the Neo-Seoul factory district was a thick, metallic soup, saturated with the harsh scents of ozone, burnt plastic, and the faint, coppery tang of heated steel. Min-jun wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a calloused, grimy hand, his lungs burning with every breath. He was working in Sector 7, a sprawling, low-tech facility at the base of a towering, Ki-powered ventilation shaft that stretched miles into the sky. It was a place where the Mugwi toiled to keep the city's underbelly from collapsing, a stark monument to the chasm between their world and the gleaming spires of the Hwarang.
Above him, a series of elegant, Ki-powered cranes glided silently on magnetic tracks, their movements so precise and effortless they seemed to float. They were automated, requiring only a gentle flicker of a Hwarang's Ki to guide them. Min-jun's work was the opposite: backbreaking manual labor, a constant, low-grade punishment for a body that had no Ki to augment its strength. He heaved a heavy metal crate onto a conveyor belt, his muscles screaming in protest. A lifetime of this work had sculpted his body into a wiry, durable frame, but it was a strength born of necessity, not power.
"Slow down, Mugwi," a voice sneered from behind him. The tone was a familiar poison. Min-jun didn't need to turn to know who it was. Hae-chan, a young, arrogant Hwarang supervisor, was a symbol of everything Min-jun resented. Hae-chan's Ki was weak, barely enough to manage the simple crane controls, but in this world, even a flicker was a claim to superiority. His family owned a small share of this factory, and he took every opportunity to remind the Mugwi of his lineage.
Min-jun ignored him, pushing the next crate. He could feel Hae-chan's gaze on him, a prickling, condescending weight that felt heavier than the crate itself.
"A useless Mugwi like you should be grateful for this job," Hae-chan continued, his voice dripping with malice. Min-jun felt a sudden, sharp gust of wind slam into his back. The wind wasn't natural; it carried the familiar sting of a minor Ki ability. The force knocked him off balance, and the heavy crate he was about to move toppled to the ground with a deafening crash. The other workers, all Mugwi, flinched but said nothing. Their silence was a learned response, a survival tactic honed over generations.
"Look what you've done," Hae-chan said, walking over with a smirk. A faint, golden Ki pulsed around his hands, a display of his unearned power. "Careful. Your kind isn't built for work this complex. Maybe you should stick to things that don't require a brain."
Min-jun's jaw clenched. A fire of rage burned in his stomach, a hot, bitter taste on his tongue. His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to act, to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Hae-chan's face. But a lifetime of ingrained fear held him back. His rage was a useless force against the smallest flicker of Ki. He forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath, lowered his gaze, and slowly knelt to pick up the fallen crate. The humiliation was a weight heavier than the metal he was lifting, a constant burden he carried every day.
He worked until the end of his shift, a silent ghost in a world of machines. The journey home through the slums of Neo-Seoul was a chaotic maze of twisting alleys and dilapidated buildings. Min-jun navigated them with practiced ease, the smell of street food and wet concrete a familiar comfort. This was his home, and despite its poverty, it was his. His apartment was a single, small room with barely enough space for a small stove and two sleeping mats, but inside, the world's harshness faded.
Inside, his younger sister, Seulgi, sat on the floor, tracing a finger over the words in a battered old storybook. She looked up and her face brightened immediately. "Oppa! You're home!" she said, her voice a melody of pure joy.
Min-jun felt the tension in his shoulders melt away. He gave her a tired smile. "Did you finish your studies?"
Seulgi nodded excitedly. "The story is about the Hwarang who built the first floating city. It says they used the power of the wind to lift the mountains into the sky! Imagine that, Oppa! Power that can move a whole mountain!" Her eyes, wide and full of hope, were the most beautiful thing in his world, a shining light in the darkness.
A wave of weariness washed over Min-jun. The stories in Seulgi's books were always of the great Hwarang, of their legendary powers and magnificent feats. They were a constant reminder of the chasm between their world and his. The world saw their hope as a foolish fantasy, a dangerous delusion.
"One day, we'll leave this place, Oppa," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'll find a way for us."
Min-jun knelt down and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I know you will, Seulgi. I know you will." He knew he couldn't have that hope for himself. It would only crush him. But he would do anything to keep it alive for her. He would endure every humiliation, every back-breaking day of work, just to see that hopeful light in her eyes. It was his only reason to live.
The next day, a sense of dread hung over Min-jun, a premonition he couldn't shake. He was walking Seulgi to a community tutoring center, a rare Mugwi institution. The alley was narrow and bustling with people, a comforting blend of noise and anonymity. But that comfort was shattered when a figure stepped out, blocking their path. It was Hae-chan. He was not wearing his work uniform, but a casual Hwarang tracksuit, his hands shoved into his pockets. A cruel smile played on his lips as his eyes flickered to Seulgi.
"Look what we have here," Hae-chan said, his voice dripping with malice. "The useless Mugwi and his pretty little sister. You know, I heard Mugwi get more work when they have… special talents. Your sister looks like she could be useful."
Min-jun felt a cold spike of fear pierce his heart. All thoughts of submission and survival vanished. A primal rage, a protective fury, took over. He moved instantly, shoving Seulgi behind him.
"Stay away from her," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, a sound he barely recognized as his own.
Hae-chan laughed, a condescending bark. "Oh? The little Mugwi has some courage after all. What are you going to do? Hit me? Your pathetic fists will be useless against my Ki." He raised a hand, and a small, flickering flame appeared in his palm, a direct and undeniable threat.
Min-jun knew he was beaten. He couldn't protect Seulgi by fighting. He had to run. He grabbed Seulgi's hand, his eyes scanning desperately for an escape route. The crowd around them began to scatter, clearing a space for the Hwarang to assert his dominance.
"Run!" Min-jun yelled, pushing Seulgi away from Hae-chan and into a side alley. He followed close behind, their footsteps echoing on the grimy pavement.
"You can't escape me!" Hae-chan's voice boomed behind them, followed by the sound of a Ki blast hitting the wall just inches from their heads. The chase was a frantic, terrifying blur. Min-jun knew the streets of the slum better than anyone, but the chaos was overwhelming. He made a sharp turn, but his foot caught on a loose sewer grate. He stumbled, his body lurching forward, his grasp on Seulgi's hand slipping.
"Seulgi, go!" he yelled, shoving her with the last of his strength, pushing her forward just as the ground beneath his feet gave way. The metal grate collapsed with a screech, and he fell into an endless, black void. He felt Seulgi's small hand slip from his grasp as a wave of cold darkness swallowed him whole. His last thought was a desperate prayer that she was safe, a final, unselfish act of love.
Chapter End.