A thousand years ago, no one recorded what truly happened. Not because it was meant to be hidden, but because no one who witnessed it survived. There were six. They came together for a reason now lost to time, and in a single night, something was sealed. Not destroyed, not erased, but hidden somewhere far beyond human reach. Centuries passed, and the world forgot. But not everything was gone. A flaw remained. A mistake. Because among the six, not all of them chose the same path. And now, after a thousand years, something had begun to move again.
Yun knew nothing about any of this. To him, it was just another night, or at least it should have been. The alley was too quiet, not empty, not peaceful, just wrong. Yun walked steadily, his school bag resting against his shoulder, his expression calm as always. People often misunderstood him and thought he didn't care, but Yun simply observed before reacting. That was how he understood the world.
At school, he was forgettable. Not weak, not special, just invisible. Except in one thing. Chemistry. Unlike people, it made sense. Every reaction followed rules, every change had a cause. Nothing happened without reason. That was why, when Yun suddenly stopped, he knew something was wrong.
He slowly raised his head. The sky stretched endlessly above him, stars scattered across the darkness. But one of them was wrong. It didn't shine. It pulsed, slow, steady, almost alive. Yun frowned. It hadn't been there before. He was certain of it. The star pulsed again, then vanished.
Yun blinked. "What?"
A sharp sound cut through the silence behind him. Something hit the ground. Hard. Yun turned instantly. A faint glow flickered on the ground. He approached carefully, step by step, then crouched. It wasn't metal, not glass. It emitted light but no heat, which made no sense. Yun hesitated, then reached out.
The moment his fingers touched it, a pulse shot through his body. His breath stopped. But the feeling did not come from the object. It came from inside him, from his chest. For the first time, his calm broke.
"What is this?"
The sensation vanished just as quickly. Silence returned. Yun stared at the object for a moment, then took it.
By the time he reached home, everything looked normal again, almost too normal. His room was exactly as he left it, clean and organized, everything in its place. He placed his bag down and took the object out again. It was still glowing.
He sat at his desk and began observing. Minutes passed, then an hour. He tested everything he could, its surface, its weight, its reaction. Nothing changed. And that unsettled him more than anything else. So he did what he always did. He wrote everything down. If he couldn't understand it, he would find a way to.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up to him. He placed the object beside his bed and lay down. Sleep came slowly.
At midnight, Yun's eyes snapped open. He couldn't move. His body refused, but his mind was completely awake. Then he felt it. Something moving inside him. Not pain, but movement, slow and deliberate, as if something was searching.
His breathing became shallow. The object was gone.
No. It wasn't gone.
It was inside him.
The movement grew stronger, closer, closer to his heart. Yun tried to stay calm, tried to think, but for the first time, he couldn't understand what was happening.
Then everything stopped.
Silence.
Yun sat up abruptly, gasping. His hand pressed against his chest. He didn't need proof. He knew. Something was inside him, and it did not belong there.
Morning came, but nothing felt normal. Yun sat in class as usual, notebook open, pen ready. From the outside, nothing had changed.
Creighton dropped into the seat beside him. Tall, observant, the kind of person who noticed what others missed. He looked at Yun for a moment.
"You look worse than usual."
Yun didn't answer.
That was enough.
The lesson began. Chemistry. Yun focused immediately. Habit. Control.
Then a sharp crack echoed through the lab. A spark followed, then an explosion. Glass shattered, students screamed, and smoke spread rapidly. Chaos filled the room. The teacher shouted for everyone to get out, and students rushed toward the exit.
But Yun didn't move. Not yet.
His eyes scanned everything. Flame color, spread pattern, reaction type. An unstable mixture. A mistake.
Then he saw a student on the ground, not moving, too close to the flames.
Yun stood. Ignoring the voices behind him, he moved forward quickly and precisely. He grabbed a cloth, covered his mouth, and stepped into the smoke. The heat hit him immediately, sharp and burning, but he ignored it.
He reached the student and pulled him back.
Then the fire surged again, faster, stronger, too fast.
Then came a pulse.
Stronger than before.
Yun froze for a brief moment, and suddenly everything became clear. Not normal, not human. He saw the reaction, not just the fire, but how it moved, where it would spread, and where it could be stopped.
"I see it…"
Without hesitation, he moved. He grabbed the extinguisher and acted with precision, short bursts, controlled angles, cutting off oxygen and breaking the reaction.
Within seconds, the flames weakened, then died.
Silence followed. Heavy breathing, smoke, shock. Everyone stared, including Creighton.
"You saw something," he said quietly.
Yun didn't answer.
Because he felt it again.
Inside his chest.
A steady pulse.
Alive.
And somewhere far beyond him, something had begun.