Beom-seok blinked as the realization of where he was struck him. The moment it did, the world seemed to blur.
Not figuratively—literally blurred—as a sharp pain tore through his skull.
His hands shot up to clutch his head, and when he let go and opened his eyes, his body jerked upright, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.
The acrid scent of smoke and charred flesh was gone.
So were the corpses. The foreign girl. And the alien environment.
He was back in his cramped room, surrounded by tottering stacks of old manga volumes and the faint, rhythmic hum of his ancient desktop fan.
Beom-seok pressed his fingers against his scalp. No blood. No wound.
Not even a bruise.
"What… the hell just happened?" he murmured, staring at his trembling hands.
It had felt real. The ground beneath him, the corpses, the girl—Violet.
And he was certain he had been struck by something.
But it couldn't have been all a dream. Could it?
For a long moment, he sat motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pushed himself upright.
"What am I even thinking about? This is exactly why they call me loser boy."
Getting to his feet, Beom-seok gave a sluggish stretch before shuffling into the bathroom, where he took a long, lukewarm bath, his gaze scanning his body for any sign of injury. There was nothing.
Seeing no point in clinging to the memory of what had just happened—or to the face of the beautiful young woman—he began preparing for school.
His navy blue blazer clung uncomfortably to his frame, the buttons straining against his belly.
"I hate myself," he muttered under his breath. "It doesn't even matter if all that was real or not… what can I do? It's not like I'm the main character."
Something worse than an extra.
With that, he slipped out of the room, sneaking past the front door so his father, stepmother, and step-siblings wouldn't notice him.
The morning air was damp and cool as he trudged toward the train station.
Other students from public schools streamed past in clusters, laughing, chatting—living lives he had never been a part of.
Beom-seok shoved his hands deep into his pockets and kept walking.
'Death to all social butterflies,' he mused, catching a few students casting him a look like he was some sort of monster.
The train station nearest his house was already crowded, waves of people weaving past one another with practiced indifference.
He moved through them with ease. This was his routine—never entangling himself with the "normies."
[Next train headed for Songpa District, Seoul]
His gaze drifted lazily over the crowd, scanning for any sign of a classmate.
Then, for a moment, it fixed on a man whose attention was elsewhere, heading straight toward a girl he couldn't quite see.
"What's he doing? He might run into her."
Instinct kicked in before his mind caught up.
"Hey! Watch it—!" Beom-seok reached out, grabbing the man's arm.
The man spun around, his face flushed with irritation. "Why are you grabbing my shoulder, kid?! A Hamlin student? Are you trying to harass me?!"
A chill ran through Beom-seok, but he still managed to stammer, "No, someone—" his voice faltered. "Someone is in front of you."
The man's expression twisted. "What the hell are you talking about?" he barked. "There's no one in front of me!"
Beom-seok blinked. "No, she's right—"
His words froze in his throat.
The girl.
Standing just a few steps ahead, clear as daylight.
Blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes.
A Victorian-style dress, immaculate despite the station's chaos. A briefcase clasped tightly in both hands.
Violet Evergarden?
Beom-seok's mouth went dry. "…you're kidding me."
The man shot him a final scowl before storming off, but Beom-seok barely noticed. His gaze stayed locked on the girl no one else seemed to see.
She turned slowly, her eyes meeting his. "You are Lee Beom-seok, right?" she asked, her voice calm, deliberate. "The boy from the battlefield. I remember your face. Please where is this place?"
His knees weakened. He rubbed his eyes hard, praying she would disappear. But when he opened them, she was still there, steady as stone.
"What is happening to me…?" he whispered.