The first rays of sun crept over the city skyline, painting the glass towers in shades of gold and rose. Where a biting cold had settled hours before, warm air now wrapped around the apartment like a gentle blanket. Yeonghon lay sprawled across the worn leather couch, the fabric cool against their skin as fragments of memory pushed through the haze of sleep.
I was so angry at him.
The flashback hit sharp and clear—pulling away from Riven's tight embrace, words sharp as broken glass hanging in the air between them. Then Jihan's calm voice, steady as always: "Stay as long as you need." There'd been no energy to argue, no strength left to even nod properly.
Now, reality settled back like dust. Yeonghon sat up, resting their elbows on their knees as they stared out the window. The breeze drifting in carried the scent of rain-soaked pavement and blooming jasmine—clean, fresh, enough to quiet the storm in their chest. The sun was bright but gentle, wind dancing through the curtains in lazy swirls.
"I could live like this if my friend pays for my rent."
The thought slipped out before they could stop it, followed by a jolt of recognition. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, they flipped on the TV. The news anchor's urgent voice cut through the quiet:
"…the Northern Gate, originally scheduled to open in five months, was activated just seven days ago. Authorities are urging caution following reports of missing persons and casualties in the surrounding area…"
Yeonghon's blood ran cold. This isn't right. They remembered this incident—people dead, vanished, lost to the other side of the gate. And Riven, along with the other high-rank Awakeners, had survived. But the memory left a bitter taste: It's as if they never protect the weak.
Fury surged hot and fast. Yeonghon punched the couch arm hard enough to make the cushions shift, but their hand barely stung. Exhaustion washed over them then, heavy and sudden, and they slumped back against the leather, eyes sliding closed.
"Life is so unfair when you're so weak."
The explosion came without warning—an earth-shaking boom that sent dust raining from the ceiling. Yeonghon flinched upright, heart hammering against their ribs. This never happened before. Had they misremembered? Or had the timeline shifted again?
"That was a huge explosion…"
Flames licked at the building across the street, black smoke curling up into the clear sky. Sweat beaded on Yeonghon's forehead as questions raced through their mind. Then their phone buzzed, sharp and insistent.
"Yeonghon—whatever you do, don't even think of going outside!"
Jihan's voice was tight with urgency, a note of command Yeonghon rarely heard. Annoyance flared hot alongside curiosity—did Jihan really think they were too fragile to handle whatever was happening?
"Why? What happened?"
Before Jihan could answer, a blue screen flickered to life in front of Yeonghon's eyes, glowing with cold light:
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Please Evacuate Immediately
A hunter has gone berserk
Berserk. The word sent a chill down their spine. Berserker Hunters—Awakeners who'd lost control, their power turning violent and unyielding. Only Guide Hunters could calm them, using their ability to sync with an Awakener's energy and steady the chaos within.
I'm one of them, Yeonghon thought, but I'm so weak…
A Guide's strength matched their Awakener's. Weak guide, weak Awakener—it was the unbreakable rule.
"Who is the berserker!?"
Yeonghon's voice came out thinner than they intended, edged with a desperation they tried to hide.
"It's Riven."
Jihan's words hung in the air like ice.
"What!?"
Yeonghon shouted into the phone, their voice trembling so hard they could barely form the words. Why? Did he not get treatment? Was he insane?
"He didn't have any treatment for the past 8 years—so it was norma—"
"NORMAL!??!???"
Yeonghon cut them off, rage burning bright and hot. Eight years without care? Was he searching for his guide? The thought sent their mind reeling, vision blurring at the edges as they clenched their teeth so hard their jaw ached.
Without another word, they hung up, threw open the apartment door, and flagged down a taxi. "The explosion site—hurry!"
"That area's dangerous, miss—"
"Just drive!"
When the driver refused to go further, Yeonghon paid and bolted from the car, running against the tide of screaming, fleeing civilians. They spotted Jihan directing people toward safety, their tall frame easy to pick out in the crowd—but there was no time to stop.
"Where the hell is that bastard…"
Yeonghon veered down a side street, dodging debris and broken glass. Around the corner, they found him: Riven, his body wreathed in crackling black energy, his arms bound by a glowing artifact that strained under his strength. Other Awakeners scrambled to find a Guide, voices sharp with panic.
Yeonghon's feet carried them forward before they could think.
"What have you been doing all these 8 years—holding up and never getting treatment!?"
Self-preservation flickered in their mind—he's my money maker, I need him alive—but it was pushed aside by something stronger as they knelt before him. Closing their eyes, they pressed their forehead to his.
Golden light flooded out from where they touched, warm and bright as sunlight. Riven's struggles slowed, the black energy receding like tide from shore. To those watching, it looked peaceful. To Yeonghon, it felt like running a marathon with weights tied to their limbs—every ounce of strength pulled from their body.
When they pulled back, Riven snapped the artifact like twigs and pulled them into his arms. His embrace was warm now, gentle where it had been frantic moments before. His breathing was heavy, ragged—but steady. Yeonghon's legs gave out then, collapsing against his chest as exhaustion claimed them completely.
Hours later, Yeonghon stirred to the feeling of warmth pressed against their back. Riven was asleep, his arms wrapped tight around them, his face buried in their hair like a child clinging to a comfort toy. They tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened. Sighing, they gave up and closed their eyes—only to snap them open a moment later.
Riven was watching them.
His eyes, usually cold as winter stone, were warm as honey, shining with a light Yeonghon had never seen before. His gaze was soft, focused entirely on them, as if they were the only thing in the world that mattered.
He was a different person entirely.
To be continued..