Sleep didn't come for Taehyun. Not really. He drifted in and out, caught in that limbo where the world presses down but refuses to let you rest. By the time dawn started leaking through his window, he was already awake, hunched over the edge of his bed, staring at the worn floorboards. It wasn't actual pain that made him ache—it was something colder, a memory that wouldn't let go.
He rolled his shoulders, winced, and squeezed his fists tight. The words came out like a confession, sharp and bitter.
"…That wasn't even a fight."
Calling it a loss would've been easier. But the truth gnawed at him: Seo Kael hadn't even bothered. No urgency, no hint of effort, no wariness in his eyes—just raw certainty. Taehyun could almost hear it in the way he walked away: You don't matter.
He tried to breathe that truth out, bury it somewhere deep, but it stuck. The thought, the doubt, the shame—too weak. Saying it didn't help. It only made the gap feel wider.
He got up, wandering over to the little table by the window. Scattered notes, names, cryptic details, all the scraps he'd hunted down over the years. Most of it was pointless. Some of it would get him killed. None of it was enough.
But one line snagged him: "Not all immortals are like him."
He ran his finger along that note, pausing. "…Not all?" There had to be others. And what if they weren't all monsters like Seo Kael? Maybe some had weaknesses. Maybe some didn't look at people like ants. Maybe one of them could finally give Taehyun a starting point—someone beatable. Someone human enough to fear him, even if only a little.
"…I'll start from the bottom," he muttered, forcing resolve into the words. "Work my way up."
By nightfall, he was moving. Seoul didn't change overnight, but tonight, it felt off, like the city was holding its breath. Every alley felt longer, shadows thicker, every glance lasting a fraction too long. He shoved his nerves down and let his instincts guide him—a name, a place, something half-remembered and half-certain.
A nightclub, pulsing with bass that made the windows tremble. Neon lights strobed over a mass of people all trying to forget themselves. Taehyun just slipped in, pushing through heat, sweat, chaos. He barely heard anything over the music, but he could feel it: the unmistakable, almost prickling sense that someone different was here.
He spotted the man easily. Mid-twenties, leaning on the bar, unmoved by the music or the crowd. He watched everything with unreadable patience, not an ounce of tension in his shoulders. Like a boulder in a river while everything else rushed by.
Taehyun edged closer. When their eyes met, the man smiled, just a flicker.
"…You're not here to drink," he said. A statement, not a question.
Taehyun held his ground, keeping his voice level. "…What are you?"
The guy laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "That's a weird opener." But he didn't brush him off or turn away. He studied Taehyun, searching for something. Then his tone changed, and his words landed heavy: "…Someone like the one you're looking for."
"Seo Kael."
The name made the man's face tighten. "Don't say that here."
"Why?"
"Because not all of us want to remember him." The tension between them thickened, real and dangerous, but Taehyun didn't back down.
"…Then you are like him."
"No. Not even close."
Taehyun pushed: "…Then prove it."
The man arched an eyebrow. "You're looking to fight."
Taehyun nodded. "Yeah." No hesitation.
There was a moment of uncertainty in the man's eyes, then another smile, smaller, edged with something hard. "You're serious."
"I need to know," Taehyun said, and this time his voice was raw. "How far I have to go."
No more talk. They slipped out, leaving the throb of the club behind for a side alley empty but for the two of them. The streetlights barely reached this corner, shadows curling between puddles.
"Last chance," the man said, "to walk away."
Taehyun shook his head. "No."
The man let out a slow breath, almost sympathetic. "Then try not to die."
He moved first, faster than any regular person, but nothing like Seo Kael. Taehyun managed to react on instinct, getting his arm up. The blow shook him anyway, pain ringing up his arm. Shock, then a grim satisfaction—he could see the gap, but it wasn't infinite.
"You're not bad," the man said, stepping back. But Taehyun could see it—he was still holding back.
"Of course I am," the man said, and came for him again. Taehyun dodged, barely. The man deflected his counter without effort. Too slow.
Breathing ragged, Taehyun forced himself to adapt: block, feint, step back, give a little but try something new every time. His body screamed, but he pressed in, sweat stinging his eyes.
Another blow landed, hard in his ribs, stealing his breath. He gasped, staggered. The man waited, not pressing the advantage.
"That's your limit?"
Taehyun gritted his teeth. "No."
He came again, this time forcing speed he didn't know he had. The man's expression flickered—a hint of respect or maybe curiosity.
"You're adapting."
Taehyun didn't answer. He just kept moving, every step a question—how much can I take before I fall? Blocking. Dodging. Barely holding the line. Every mistake got punished, every second cost him something.
Then, in the middle of it, the man called out: "Why?"
Taehyun flinched, almost losing his concentration. "…Why what?"
"Why push this hard?"
Taehyun didn't look away. "Because I have to."
The man stared, slow understanding working through his features. Then he came again, blinding speed—serious, no more games. Taehyun almost didn't see it…but this time, he twisted just enough. He ate the strike but rolled with it, came up on one knee instead of flat on his back.
The alley went quiet.
"…Interesting," the man said, and it almost sounded like he respected Taehyun now.
Taehyun tasted blood in his mouth, but he still looked up with burning eyes. "…I'm still not enough."
"No," the man admitted, flat and direct. "But you're not nothing either."
Taehyun almost laughed. "That doesn't help."
"It should." The guy started to turn. "You want to survive in that world, don't chase Seo Kael yet. Not even close."
Taehyun didn't let his words go. "I don't have a choice."
"Of course you do," the man said, over his shoulder, walking into the night. "Get stronger first."
And then Taehyun was alone, panting and aching, frost building up in his veins where fear and hope mixed. The words echoed in his head: get stronger. Not just for revenge or survival, but because that gap between him and Seo Kael, between him and the sword, between everything he was and everything he needed to become wasn't going to close itself.
He stood, every muscle shaking, but his hands were steady.
And this time, when he said it, he meant it. "…I will."
The climb had started. The gap was real, but so was he.