Medical Ward – Dr. Choi's Office
Dr. Choi sat at his desk, three different scans of baby Yoo spread out in front of him. Each one told the same impossible story.
"It's been three weeks," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. "The readings should have normalized by now if it was just environmental mutation."
Su-bin stood by the door, arms crossed. "But they haven't."
"No. They've gotten stronger." Choi pointed at the most recent scan. "His bone density increased by 12% in three weeks. That's... that's not possible for an infant. Hell, that's not possible for anyone without active enhancement training."
"Maybe he's absorbing ambient dimensional energy?" Su-bin suggested. "Like how hunters get stronger near rifts?"
"No hunter gets stronger just by existing near a rift. They have to actively cultivate their Gi, absorb beast cores, train..." Choi trailed off, staring at the scans. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless his body is doing it automatically." Choi's voice dropped to a whisper. "Like a passive enhancement system built into his physiology."
Su-bin's face went pale. "That's... is that even possible?"
"I don't know. But if it is, and if the wrong people find out..." Choi gathered the scans and locked them in his desk drawer. "We don't tell anyone about this. Not the hunter guilds, not the government, nobody."
"Doctor, we can't just—"
"We can and we will." Choi's voice was firm. "That baby is three weeks old. He can't defend himself. If word gets out, he'll be dissected in a lab or turned into a weapon by some ambitious guild. I won't let that happen."
Su-bin was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Okay. But what do we do about the information brokers? Han-sol's been asking questions."
"Tell him the scans were equipment error. We recalibrated and the baby is normal." Choi met her eyes. "Can you lie convincingly?"
"For a baby? Yeah, I can lie."
---
Marketplace – Midday
The marketplace was louder than usual. A group of hunters had just returned from a successful dungeon run, cores and salvage spread out for sale.
"Fresh Fledgling cores! Five for a meal token!" one hunter shouted.
"Awakened Beast claws! Perfect for weapon crafting!" another called.
Min-jun—Ji-hye's son—pushed through the crowd, a small pouch of cores clutched in his hand. His first real earnings as a hunter. Not much, but enough to buy decent food for his mother and maybe upgrade his weapon.
"You Min-jun?" A gruff voice made him stop.
Min-jun turned. A man built like a bear stood there, a massive salvaged axe strapped to his back. Bronze rank badge on his shoulder, but the Gi radiating off him suggested he was close to Silver.
"Yeah, I'm Min-jun. You need something?"
"Heard you just made Bronze. Looking for hunting party members. You interested?"
Min-jun's heart jumped. A hunting party—that meant organized runs, better loot splits, actual training. "What's the pay?"
"Depends on the haul. But we hit Awakened Beast territories. Cores are worth ten times what Fledglings give." The man grinned, showing a missing tooth. "Course, the death rate's higher too. You scared?"
'Am I scared?' Min-jun thought. Terrified. But he thought of his mother, working herself to the bone in that tent. Thought of the baby she was caring for—some stranger's kid—because she couldn't stop being kind even in this hell.
"I'm in," Min-jun said. "When's the next run?"
"Tomorrow dawn. Eastern ruins, Section C. Don't be late." The man turned and vanished into the crowd.
Min-jun clutched his cores tighter. 'I'm going to make it. Going to get strong enough to protect Mom. Whatever it takes.'
A hooded figure watched from the shadows—the same woman who'd helped Min-ho before. She saw the exchange, saw the determination and fear warring in the young hunter's eyes.
' Another one throwing himself at death', she thought. 'When will they learn?'
But she didn't interfere. Everyone had to make their own choices in this world.
---
Ji-hye's Tent – Evening
Jae-sung sat cross-legged on the floor, the training manual open in front of him. His body still ached, but he forced himself to practice the Gi circulation exercises Dr. Choi had recommended.
Baby Yoo lay nearby, apparently sleeping. But inside his mind, he was watching everything.
Observation: Father figure attempting basic Gi circulation. Form is crude but functional. Efficiency: 34%.
'He's trying so hard,' Yoo thought. 'Barely recovered and already pushing himself.'
Jae-sung's Gi flowed through his channels—slow, stuttering, but moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort.
"I should've been stronger," Jae-sung muttered. "If I was stronger, maybe the others wouldn't have died in that dungeon."
Survivor's guilt. Yoo recognized it from his past life. The weight of living when others didn't.
"I'll get stronger," Jae-sung said quietly, like a promise to the dead. "For them. And for you, kid." He glanced at baby Yoo. "You didn't ask to be born into this mess. But I'll make sure you survive it."
Yoo felt something twist in his chest. This man—who didn't know Yoo wasn't really a helpless infant, who thought he was just protecting an orphan—was willing to sacrifice everything.
'I can't let him die,' Yoo realized. 'Whatever happens, I need to get strong enough to protect him back.'
But for now, all he could do was lie there, helpless, and watch Jae-sung struggle with his Gi training.
Query: Shall I provide optimized Gi circulation pattern for verbal instruction?
'No,' Yoo thought. 'I can't talk. Can barely move. He has to figure it out himself.'
Understood. Continuing passive observation.
Outside the tent, Han-sol the information broker walked past, glancing at the entrance. He'd been paid well for his surveillance, but the results were disappointing. The baby seemed normal after all. The medical scans were apparently just equipment errors.
'Waste of time,' Han-sol thought, moving on to his next assignment.
But in the shadows deeper in the slums, someone else watched. A figure in a dark cloak, face hidden. They'd been watching for three weeks now. Waiting. Observing.
The figure tapped a communication device. "Subject confirmed. Anomalous readings persist despite official reports. Recommend continued surveillance. Do not engage. Repeat: do not engage."
A distorted voice replied: "Understood. Maintain distance. The timeline is longer than we anticipated. We can afford patience."
The figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace they'd ever been there.
Above, the stars twinkled innocently. Far beyond them, in dimensions humans couldn't perceive, the cosmic chess game continued, pieces moved. Reality rippled.
And in a small tent in the slums, a baby with an adult's mind and impossible power clenched his tiny fists, frustrated by his own helplessness.
'I need to grow faster,' Yoo thought. 'Before it's too late.'