The sound of rain tapping against the window woke him before the alarm could. Kajhunomo lay there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts hazy, his heart heavy. The world outside was gray — neither morning nor night, as if even time hesitated to move forward.
The faint ache in his right hand reminded him that yesterday wasn't a dream.
He slowly lifted his palm. The black mark still shimmered faintly beneath the skin, like ink trapped under glass. No matter how hard he rubbed it, it didn't fade — it pulsed softly, almost like it was breathing.
> "It's still there…" he muttered, voice hoarse.
The memory of the voice echoed again — "You are my vessel… my successor."
Kajhunomo sat up, pressing his palm against his forehead. "Vessel? Successor? Of what…?"
The room felt colder than usual. His breath came out white. He glanced at the clock — 6:05 a.m. Jogging time. He tried to shake off the fear clinging to him and stepped outside into the pale morning fog.
---
The Fog and the Whisper
The park was silent. Not even birds sang. The mist thickened with every step, swallowing the path ahead. Kajhunomo's sneakers splashed through puddles as he followed the familiar jogging route — but his mind was elsewhere. The images from last night refused to disappear: that masked figure, that void of shadows, and those words about the "Negativity Curse."
> "Maybe I'm just losing my mind," he whispered.
> No. You're finally waking up.
The voice again — soft, echoing directly in his head. Kajhunomo froze mid-step. His heart pounded.
> "Who are you?"
The question isn't who I am… but what you are.
A gust of wind blew through the fog. Leaves rose from the ground and spun around him. His reflection appeared in a puddle — but the reflection smiled back at him, even though he wasn't smiling.
Suddenly, black lines crawled across his reflection's eyes. The puddle rippled violently. Then, from its surface, a hand of pure shadow shot upward, grabbing his wrist.
Kajhunomo gasped and fell backward, but the hand pulled him in — down into the puddle, into darkness.
---
The World of Negativity
He landed hard on cold stone. Around him stretched a vast hall lit by torches of black fire. The air was thick with whispers — thousands of voices murmuring, crying, laughing, all at once.
At the far end of the hall stood the masked figure again.
Tall, draped in a tattered cloak, eyes glowing through cracks in the mask.
> "You returned," it said. "The seal weakens faster than I expected."
Kajhunomo took a step back. "What do you want from me?"
> "To survive. That's all. You carry the Negativity Curse — the power born from every dark emotion humanity has ever hidden. It feeds on anger, despair, and sorrow."
> "You're lying," Kajhunomo spat. "I'm just… I'm just a normal human."
> "A normal human wouldn't survive touching me." The figure raised its hand. The air trembled — black sparks igniting between its fingers. "But you did."
The torches flared. Shadows slithered along the floor, forming distorted faces, hands, and screams.
> "Do you understand now?" the figure whispered. "You're no longer separate from me. When you hate… when you grieve… I grow stronger."
Kajhunomo fell to his knees, clutching his chest. A wave of emotion crashed through him — fear, anger, guilt, all blending into pain. The mark on his palm burned, bleeding black light.
> "STOP IT!" he screamed.
The world exploded.
Dark energy burst from his body, sending waves of pressure through the hall. Torches shattered. The masked figure staggered back but laughed softly.
> "Good. Feel it. That's what makes you human. That's what gives Negativity form."
The last thing Kajhunomo heard before blacking out was a whisper — soft, almost kind.
> "When you wake, you'll begin to see the world for what it truly is."
---
Return to Reality
He woke up on the ground — back in the park. The puddle beside him was still rippling, though no wind blew. His breath came in shallow bursts, and his shirt was drenched with sweat.
He glanced at his wrist — the black mark was glowing faintly again. But this time, instead of fear, he felt… control.
The air around him vibrated slightly, bending faintly around his hand. He raised his palm. The shadow followed his movement like smoke, forming a thin blade of darkness before fading again.
> "This… power. It's real."
He stood, trembling. The energy still pulsed beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed. He could sense something — faint, distant — other presences that carried the same kind of energy.
> "There are others," he whispered.
---
The Friend Who Sees Through Lies
By the time Kajhunomo returned home, the rain had stopped. The streets glistened under the pale sunlight. When he reached his apartment, he noticed someone waiting at his door.
"Reina?"
His childhood friend turned, her brown eyes sharp yet soft with concern.
> "You didn't show up for training again," she said. "I got worried."
Kajhunomo forced a smile. "Sorry. Just not feeling well."
Reina stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You've been saying that a lot lately. And that mark on your hand—"
He instinctively hid his wrist, but it was too late. Reina frowned. "That's not normal. It's spreading."
> "It's nothing. Really."
> "Kajhunomo…" She placed a hand on his arm. "You're a terrible liar."
Her warmth surprised him — it was grounding, like sunlight piercing through fog. For a brief moment, the black energy inside him seemed to calm.
Then he heard it again — the whisper.
> She shouldn't touch you. You'll hurt her.
Kajhunomo flinched and stepped back. "I said I'm fine!"
Reina's expression darkened. "Fine. But if something's happening, I'll find out. You can't hide from me forever."
She turned and left, her figure disappearing into the morning crowd.
Kajhunomo leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. He wanted to tell her everything — about the voice, the power, the curse. But how could he? Even he didn't understand it yet.
---
The Dream of the Past
That night, he dreamed again — but it wasn't like before.
He saw flashes of another life: a great battle, crimson skies, and a warrior standing on a mountain of corpses, his right hand glowing with the same mark.
> "You cannot escape destiny," the warrior said, his voice echoing through time. "When the cycle begins, Negativity and Magic will collide once again."
Kajhunomo saw a name etched into stone — The First Negativity Slayer.
The warrior turned, eyes glowing like embers.
> "Protect them, Kajhunomo. Or this world will drown in its own hate."
Kajhunomo gasped awake, clutching his chest. The air in his room rippled again — the shadow forming briefly before his mirror.
The reflection smiled back.
> You are awakening, my successor.
The mirror cracked.
---
A Watcher in the Dark
Far away, in the depths of the old city, a figure knelt before a glowing crystal. His eyes reflected faint black light — the same mark Kajhunomo bore.
> "So… he's finally awakened," the figure whispered. "After eighteen years."
He rose, wrapping himself in a long coat embroidered with runes.
> "If he can't control it soon, the entire balance will collapse."
The crystal pulsed once — and within it, a faint image of Kajhunomo appeared, standing alone in his dark room.
The watcher smiled faintly.
> "Welcome back, heir of the Negativity Curse."