[Seoul — 7:30 a.m.]
The city moved as if nothing had ever happened.
Commuters poured into the subways. Vendors shouted at corners.Screens on high-rise buildings blared morning news and weather reports.And Min Jae sat in his small one-room apartment, staring at his reflection in the kettle's metal surface.
He didn't know why his heart wouldn't stop racing.
He'd woken from a nightmare again — the same one, every night for the last three months.Blood-red skies. Screaming. A woman's voice saying "You have two years."Then silence. Always silence.
He rubbed his chest. The scar wasn't there anymore — but sometimes, when he looked too long, he saw it, like an illusion just beneath the skin.
Maybe it's just stress, he told himself. Just stress.
But when he glanced at the mirror, for one fleeting instant, his eyes glowed faintly crimson.Then it was gone.
He exhaled. "Right… stress."
[Gangnam District — Morning Commute]
On the other side of the city, Lee Ara, a theology student working part-time at a bookstore, adjusted her glasses and smiled at the morning customers.
"Good morning," she greeted.Her coworkers called her the angel of the shop — patient, kind, always humming soft hymns.
She didn't remember being the Saintess of Dawn.But her dreams bled with fragments — burning wings, golden light, and a voice that said "Faith is not obedience."
Sometimes she woke crying, hands clasped in prayer to no one.
Today was no different.When she looked out the window, a flock of birds passed — their flight pattern forming a glowing circle, faint, geometric.Her heart skipped.
"Again," she whispered. "That symbol again."
And for the briefest second, the bookstore lights flickered — gold, like her old miracles.
[Seo Mirae — Former Pyromancer]
In another district, Seo Mirae scrolled through her phone, ignoring her coworkers' laughter.She worked as a florist again — ironic, given how much she'd burned.
She didn't remember fighting monsters, or the taste of ash on her lips.But sometimes, when she touched a petal too long, it smoked — as if the fire inside her was still trying to breathe.
A customer asked for roses.When Mirae picked up the bouquet, her palm left faint scorch marks on the ribbon.
She froze. Then smiled too quickly. "Static shock, I guess."
No one noticed how the flower petals turned darker — almost charred — before blooming twice as large.
[Jinwoo — The Empty Throne]
At the top floor of a skyscraper, Jinwoo Han leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning financial reports that didn't interest him.He was a consultant now, the kind who solved problems by existing in the right room.His staff thought he was brilliant. He thought he was sleepwalking.
Every night, he dreamed of metal and lightning. Of a sword called Kaiser.And a girl with dawn-colored eyes whispering, "Don't let them rewrite you."
When he woke, he sometimes found the shape of that blade burned into the glass beside his bed — faint, like static residue.
He never told anyone.
[Global Phenomena — The "Déjà Vu Plague"]
Within a month, reports began circulating worldwide.People spoke of repeating dreams — of fire, sky cracks, and monsters.Psychiatrists called it "collective trauma syndrome."Religious groups called it "Divine Recall."
But the System didn't appear.No panels, no quests, no notifications.The world kept turning, pretending to be normal.
Until the first animal mutated.
[Incheon Outskirts — Incident Log #1]
It started with a stray cat.
Footage from a security camera captured it clearly —The animal sniffed a trash can, meowed, then convulsed. Its body split open like paper, revealing a pulsing core of red light.Then it screamed — not like a cat, but like a radio feedback loop.
The footage ended there.The next morning, three pedestrians were missing.
The government called it "a gas explosion."People moved on.
But not everyone believed it.
[Min Jae — The Awakening of Instinct]
That night, Min Jae couldn't sleep.His dreams had stopped being dreams — they'd become memories.He remembered the smell of smoke. The feel of steel in his hand.And a woman smiling through the chaos, whispering, "Keep them safe."
He woke to the sound of his window shattering.Something had hit the glass — something small, glowing faintly red.
He looked closer.A notification pulsed in the corner of his vision.
[System Initialization Detected — Unauthorized Access.]
[User ID: Min Jae — Legacy Fragment Found.]
[Do you wish to reconnect? Y/N]
His blood ran cold."...No," he whispered. "Not again."
But the choice didn't matter.The System pulsed once — and accepted for him.
[Connection Restored.]
[Syncing Past Cycle Memory…]
Pain exploded through his skull.Visions flashed — Evelyn standing against a collapsing world, the children, the blood, the fire.Then darkness.
When he opened his eyes, his breath was visible in the cold. His room lights were flickering.He looked down — and the Berserker Mark burned faintly on his chest.
[Welcome back, Min Jae.]
[Root Layer — Evelyn's POV]
Far below reality, Evelyn's eyes snapped open.The barrier around her pulsed — threads of golden light tightening, fracturing, then tightening again.
She felt it.Someone had reconnected.Someone had remembered.
"Min Jae…" she whispered. "You weren't supposed to wake yet."
The System's voice thundered.
[Unauthorized Memory Reactivation Detected.]
[Containment Strengthen—]
But it was too late. Evelyn's roots had already spread through the cracks.Each pulse of Min Jae's awakening resonated with her — expanding her influence, breaking the prison strand by strand.
[Countdown: 729 days remaining.]
Evelyn closed her eyes.Two years.That's all she had.
"Then I'll make sure they remember everything," she whispered.Her hands reached out — and the Root Chamber bloomed in green light.
Tiny motes drifted upward, invisible to the world above.Each carried a whisper, a memory, a trace of her will.
The first Root Signal.
[Surface — End of Chapter]
Across Seoul, dozens of people woke from the same dream —a woman standing beneath a glowing tree, whispering softly:
"This time, don't run."
And outside every window, for a brief, trembling second, the streetlamps flickered green.
Then the world returned to normal.But nothing was normal anymore.