The sirens wailing through the underground corridors of the Association Headquarters were a discordant screech that set Min-ho's teeth on edge. In the Iron Room, the red emergency lights pulsed, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls. Agent Kang stood in the doorway, his hand hovering over his sidearm, his eyes darting between the powdered remains of the obsidian table and the golden light fading from Min-ho's pupils.
"Director, the containment teams are ten seconds out," Kang shouted over the alarm. "Tell them to stand down before someone does something they can't take back."
Director Choi didn't move. She was still staring at the place where the table had been. Her hands, resting on her knees, were trembling. As an A-Rank, she was used to being the most powerful presence in any room, but the pressure Min-ho had just released wasn't just strength. It was an apex authority. It was the feeling of being a prey animal staring at a natural disaster.
"Turn the alarm off," Choi said. Her voice was thin but steady.
"Director?" Kang asked.
"I said turn the alarm off!" she barked. "And tell the strike team to return to their stations. It was a technical malfunction with the dampening field. Do it now."
Kang didn't hesitate. He spoke rapidly into his radio, his voice echoing in the hall. A few moments later, the sirens died down, replaced by a heavy, ringing silence. The red lights faded, and the standard overhead LEDs flickered back to life, though they remained dim due to the damage Min-ho had caused to the circuitry.
Choi reached into the inner pocket of her suit jacket and pulled out a small, metallic card. It was matte black with a silver chip embedded in the center. She slid it across the floor toward Min-ho, as there was no longer a table to place it on.
"It's an Independent Contractor's ID," Choi said, watching him closely. "In the system, it will list you as 'Classified.' Your rank, your name, and your records will be encrypted under my personal clearance. To the rest of the Association, you don't exist. To the public, you're just a ghost. Use it to enter gates or buy equipment. It's the only way I can keep the higher-ups from hunting you down for what you did to Chief Han."
Min-ho picked up the card. It felt cold and heavy in his hand. "And the price?"
"Stay within the city," Choi replied. "When a gate appears that the local hunters can't handle, I'll contact you. You don't have to follow orders, and you don't have to join a raid team. Just... don't let this city burn. And for god's sake, keep your family out of the crosshairs."
Min-ho stood up. The heavy atmosphere that had been suffocating the room vanished entirely. He looked like a normal teenager again, albeit one with a presence that felt slightly too large for his body. He pocketed the card and walked toward the door. Kang stepped aside, giving him a wide berth.
"Kang will drive you home," Choi added. "And Min-ho? Don't think this makes us friends. You're a variable we can't control, and that makes you the most dangerous thing in this country."
Min-ho didn't look back. "I'm only dangerous to people who touch what's mine."
The drive back to the district was a blur of streetlights and silence. Kang didn't try to strike up a conversation this time. He drove with a stiff, professional focus, his eyes glued to the road. He dropped Min-ho off two blocks away from his house to avoid drawing attention from any lingering neighbors or undercover scouts.
Min-ho walked the rest of the way. The night air was crisp, and the scent of ozone from the earlier confrontation still hung faintly in the breeze. He looked at his hands, feeling the mana circulating through his Star-Forged Marrow.
'It's not enough,' he thought.
The encounter with Director Choi had been a wake-up call. She was only an A-Rank, and yet she had enough political power to ruin his life with a single phone call. The "Sovereign" power he had cultivated in the Slumber Realm was formidable, but he was still only Level 14. He had seen the reports of S-Rank hunters who could level mountains and Monarch-class monsters that could swallow entire provinces. If he wanted to truly protect his family, he couldn't just be strong. He had to be a peak that no one could even dream of reaching. He needed to find a way to accelerate his training even further.
As he reached his front gate, he saw the lights in the living room were all on. He could see the silhouettes of his parents and Min-ah through the curtains. He stopped at the door, taking a deep breath to steady his racing heart. He had to lie. He hated it, but the truth about the Slumber Realm and the 120x time dilation was a burden they weren't ready for.
He pushed the door open.
The house was quiet, but the tension was thick. His father was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. His mother was pacing the floor, her eyes red from crying. Min-ah was sitting on the stairs, her knees pulled up to her chest. When the door clicked shut, all three of them jumped.
"Min-ho!" his mother shrieked, rushing toward him and grabbing his shoulders. She checked his face, his arms, and his chest for injuries. "Are you okay? Where did they take you? What happened to the street?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Min-ho said, his voice soft. He looked over her shoulder at his father, who had stood up but looked like he didn't know whether to hug his son or yell at him.
"The Association... they said there was a mistake," Min-ho began, using the lie he had rehearsed on the walk home. "They thought Min-ah was an unregistered high-tier, but it turned out the mana spike was from a malfunctioning gate sensor nearby. They took me in for questioning because I got into an argument with that inspector."
"An argument?" his father asked, his voice skeptical. "Min-ho, the windows on the street shattered. The driveway is cracked. That wasn't an argument."
Min-ho looked down, playing the part of a guilty, exhausted student. "I've been... I've been doing some private training. I didn't want to tell you guys because I didn't want you to worry about me going into gates. I found a trainer online who taught me some high-level mana suppression techniques. When that inspector tried to grab Min-ah, I lost my temper and the energy just... leaked out. I've been working so hard lately, staying up late, pushing myself. I guess I'm just burnt out and lazy from all the stress. I didn't mean for it to get that bad."
His father sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "You should have told us. We thought you were just sleeping all day because you were being a typical teenager. We didn't know you were carrying all that."
"I just wanted to make sure we were safe," Min-ho said. "The Association cleared everything. They even gave me a permit to keep training as long as I stay out of trouble. It was just a big misunderstanding."
It was a weak explanation, and he knew they probably didn't believe all of it, but they wanted to believe it. They needed a reason to feel safe again. His mother hugged him tightly, weeping into his chest, while his father placed a heavy hand on his arm.
Min-ah, however, hadn't moved from the stairs. She was watching him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. She had seen him move at the school. She had felt the pressure he released on the porch. She knew he was lying.
After his parents finally went to bed, exhausted by the night's events, Min-ho stayed in the kitchen to clean up a broken glass. He heard the creak of the stairs. Min-ah was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.
"A gas leak and a malfunctioning sensor," she whispered. "That's the best you could do?"
"It's the version that lets Mom and Dad sleep tonight," Min-ho replied without looking up.
Min-ah walked over and stood beside him. She looked smaller than usual, but there was a new, hard edge to her expression. "I felt it, Min-ho. On the porch. It felt like the world was ending, but for some reason, I wasn't scared of the pressure. I was scared for you. I saw how you looked at those agents. You looked like you were ready to die for us."
She grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to look at her.
"I'm tired of being the reason you have to lie," she said, her voice trembling but determined. "I'm tired of being the one who needs saving. If the world is going to keep coming for our family, I don't want to hide in the corner anymore."
Min-ho frowned. "Min-ah, stay out of this. It's dangerous."
"I don't care," she snapped. "Whatever you're doing to get that strong... whatever you're hiding. I want in. I want to fight with you. I want to get stronger, too. And I'm not going to stop until I can stand next to you without falling over."
Min-ho stared at his sister, realizing that the girl he had tried so hard to protect was gone. In her place was someone who had seen the abyss and decided she wanted to look back. He looked at the black card in his pocket and then back at her. The path ahead was getting darker, and for the first time, he realized he might not have to walk it alone.