The events from that night still cling to me—
not only in my mind, but in my bones, in my breath, in the way my heart sometimes spikes for no reason. It's been three full days, and every time I hear even the slightest sound—the shift of a door, wind tapping a window, the faint steps of someone passing by—my body reacts on its own. A tremor in my fingertips. A breath caught in my throat. A wave of nausea rolling in without warning.
The captain said I'm safe now.
He already performed a banishment ritual for the spirit that had followed me.
It should've been over.
But… it's not.
I still feel as if something is lurking behind my back, like invisible eyes tracing the line of my neck from afar. That's why I refused to go home, even though I was cleared to. Being alone in a dim house? No. Not now. Not after I felt the breath of a high-level spirit on my skin—cold like frozen metal.
Oh, right…
Speaking of Senior Liam.
I haven't seen him at all.
Since that day, he vanished.
I wanted to thank him—even if it would've been a clumsy, meaningless kind of gratitude. But when I asked around, the others only exchanged glances before giving short answers:
"No idea."
Or worse—complete silence, as if his name itself had become taboo.
I rubbed my face roughly. The hallway I was walking through was dim, the warm lamps placed every few meters barely doing anything. The smell of dust mixed with old wood stung my nose. I had no idea why the captain liked making me take this route—it felt like he purposely picked the most unpleasant corridors in this base for me.
The captain said there's a guest today.
More precisely, a new member.
A woman. Pretty, he said.
I don't care.
Not because she's a woman, but because I still feel like a newborn chick that hasn't learned how to run. I've only been here for one month. I'm nothing. There's no point guiding someone new when I'm still trying to guide my own breath, my own sanity.
Now I'm standing at the door to her room. I curse silently—another situation where I'll look stupid.
I knock softly.
Three times.
No answer.
I wait.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Still nothing.
And that sensation of being ignored… it sends a different kind of shiver down my spine. Not fear—shame. Pathetic shame. Like a kid knocking on someone's house, hoping they'll open, only to be left standing there alone.
With reluctance, I inhale and whisper a quiet apology in my head as I press the door handle down. Just a little. Just enough to check if the captain is inside.
A small gap opens.
Light from inside hits my eyes.
And what I see freezes me mid-step.
A woman stands there.
Her hair is short, black with a greenish sheen in the light. Her posture is straight, arms crossed, chin slightly raised like someone used to looking down on others. Her lips curve into a smile, but not the friendly kind. More like… a smile someone has when they've spotted a weakness to stab.
An annoying smile.
That's the most polite description I can think of.
The captain…
His face looks different.
His eyes narrow, jaw tense—an expression he rarely shows.
Angry.
Or… something darker. Something he usually keeps buried but couldn't hold back now.
I stand there, unmoving in the doorway. The air in the room feels tight, almost audible—like a thread about to snap.
The woman turns suddenly, her movement sharp and clean like a blade pulled from its sheath. Our eyes meet for just a split second, but it's enough to rip the breath from my lungs. It feels like seeing a wild spirit the moment it notices you. A chill races from my neck to my heels, cold lines crawling along my spine. Sweat pricks my temples.
It's just coincidence, right?
Yes… please let it be coincidence.
I swallow hard, forcing air back into my lungs, trying to steady the frantic beating in my chest. After a few seconds letting myself breathe, I exhale and gather what little courage I have left to knock again.
But before my fingers touch the wood, the door moves on its own.
It swings open.
The woman stands right behind it—so close I can see my reflection in her eyes. A bright, enthusiastic smile blooms on her face, the kind that doesn't match the cold aura I felt before.
"Hello! You're the senior who'll guide me, right?!" she chirps, cutting off my breath.
"My name is Ivy! Please take care of me, senior!"
She grabs my hand immediately, shaking it with so much energy I'm stunned into stillness.
"Ah–haha… yes, nice to meet you. Please take care of me too…" I mumble awkwardly, trying to free my hand.
Her face… something about her reminds me of someone. Strongly. But I can't place it. A blurry memory clings to the edge of my thoughts, making my stomach twist.
Before I can chase it, a voice comes from behind me.
"What are you doing here?"
A man's voice. Flat. Heavy.
And… it sounds very much like Liam.
My hand slips free as Ivy turns toward him—and I turn too, only to freeze again.
A tall man stands at the far end of the hallway. His hair is black. Jet black. His eyes are black too… except for the pupils, which glow a deep, ember-like red.
His face is dotted with moles: one on his nose, one below his lip, several near his eyes, even a tiny one above his eyebrow. Light freckles dust the skin beneath his eyes, making his face look more… alive. More real. More strange.
"Why are you staring at me like that, brat?" he asks flatly.
Ah.
Yeah, this is Liam.
Or… someone wearing Liam's face.
Or Liam who has changed.
Did he… dye his hair black?
"Ey! You dyed your hair again, bro?" Ivy calls out casually, as if we're discussing ribbon colors instead of a drastic appearance change on a high-ranking senior.
And okay… that's surprising.
They really are siblings.
For some reason, that makes me even more uneasy. There's something about both of them that feels… misaligned with this world. I don't know what.
But wait—
Is he really Senior Liam?
Or a spirit mimicking him, like the one that once chased me?
No—that shouldn't be possible. The building is protected by layers of spiritual barriers. Wild spirits can't just walk in… unless their level is extremely high… or there's a breach… or—
Liam's voice cuts my thoughts.
"You talk too much. Where's the captain?" he says flatly, pushing Ivy aside.
The shove is rough—I almost protest instinctively, but Ivy just shrugs like it's normal, humming as she walks away, leaving me with a stack of unanswered questions.
…Fine.
I have no right to understand them yet.
I follow Liam into the captain's room.
The captain is slumped in his chair, buried behind stacks of papers. The dark circles under his eyes are worse than usual. His white hair is unbound, falling in messy strands over his shoulders. His expression… looks like someone who fought a shapeless creature all night.
"Captain" Liam calls softly.
The captain shifts slightly, but doesn't sit up. "Oh, you're here?" His voice is low, hoarse, scraped from an exhausted throat.
I remember how angry he looked earlier when talking to Ivy. That almost never happens. The captain can laugh at anything… even things that aren't funny.
So then…
What exactly is going on?
I glanced at Liam.
The man stood straight without a sound, his dark red pupils staring at the captain without any expression, as if simply waiting for orders.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Never felt better. Thank you for asking."
"Peter" the captain looked directly at me, "do you feel ready to work again?"
Honestly, no.
Of course not.
I wasn't even sure I could sleep without the lights on for the next few nights. But I also couldn't keep hiding in my room, drowning in fear.
So I nodded.
Because that was the only answer that would ever come out of my mouth.
The captain gave a small smile after that.
"Good. I'll send you two to work at a noble's residence. Maybe for a few months… maybe longer. Find the rogue spirit that infiltrated the place."
"I object to that," Liam suddenly said, his voice low yet firm, like a thin echo lingering in the empty hallway. "You know yourself… because of that, I should be bur—hahh, never mind, there's no way I'd leave him anyway, right?"
His tone shifted instantly, becoming casual, even certain. Without waiting for my reaction, Liam stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
Honestly… he was heavy. His shoulder was solid and strong, and I… well, I'm not someone used to being forced to carry weight like this. My body staggered a little as he halted, like gravity suddenly shifted around me.
"Uh… I…" I muttered softly, trying to form words, but then stopped. My tongue felt numb. He squeezed my shoulder lightly—light, yet more than enough to remind me that, truthfully, I also objected to this.
Captain… I'm truly embarrassed.
I didn't help at all in the previous mission, while Liam fought alone against that horror. And now I had to spend months under his supervision, working together, sharing danger… ah, I wanted to refuse, but my body wouldn't let me.
I quickly cleared my throat, lowering my gaze so the captain wouldn't read my expression. His eyes were sharp, and I knew he was watching. A cold shiver slipped down my back occasionally, as if all my failures and incompetence were gathering inside one breath.
"Good. Go on then, enjoy your last day off," the captain said while waving his hand, almost as if shooing us out of the room. His voice remained calm, but with a faint tremor that made me hold my breath.
Haha… yeah, this was normal.
I had to swallow this mix of irritation and embarrassment, like I always did. We said our goodbyes—or more precisely, I was dragged out by Liam.
Once outside, Liam let go of my shoulder, but his steps remained light and relaxed. He walked ahead, hands clasped behind his head like someone who didn't care about anything.
"Senior, what about the mission in Rifoyd Village?" I asked while jogging a little to keep up, my voice slightly hesitant but full of curiosity.
"Oh, that… why are you asking?" Liam glanced at me briefly, looking a bit confused, though his gaze was still sharp and alert.
Huh? Was it so wrong to ask? I wasn't fully conscious when it happened. "I'm just curious about the details," I answered quickly, trying to hide the uneasy feeling sitting in my chest.
If only the captain had answered me, I thought, I wouldn't have to ask you, Liam.
A small smile tugged at my lips, because no matter what his reaction would be, I still had to follow him.
Liam didn't reply. He simply walked faster, his eyes fixed forward, scanning the long hallway ahead.
I stared at his back, trying to steady my breathing, and quietly thinking… I truly didn't know what would happen next, but I couldn't run anymore. I had to walk with him into whatever storm was coming.
When Liam disappeared from sight, I continued walking slowly, responding to a few members who happened to pass by. Sometimes I answered their questions about my condition, trying to convince myself that everything was fine. My body was far more stable than a few days ago, though fear still gnawed from the inside. Every step felt heavy, my breath snagged now and then from the corner-of-eye shadows. It felt like… if I let fear take over, I might lose control.
God forbid.
The thought made my skin crawl and nearly pushed me into panic, a humiliating outcome I could not allow.
I rubbed my face roughly, trying to calm myself—when suddenly someone yanked me into a room.
The room—ah, my eyes widened instantly when I saw a human skull lying on the table. I jolted, nearly losing my balance, but the woman who pulled me quickly steadied me.
"Ah… madam, you startled me!" I snapped slightly, trying to hide my fear. Then I cleared my throat and lowered my head, apologizing for being rude.
The woman, with chestnut wavy hair falling softly around her shoulders, was Charlotte. A noblewoman of high standing, yet for some reason chose to devote herself to kingdom protection.
From what I heard, her husband died after being hunted by a rogue spirit during his journey home—making this room feel even heavier. There was grief in the air, but also something… strange.
"What do you think? This is my husband's head. He was very handsome, wasn't he?" Lady Charlotte asked with a light tone, as if speaking of someone still alive, yet her eyes gazed at the skull with a proud smile that made my skin prickle.
I nodded quickly, pretending to agree though my entire body trembled.
"Yes, he… was very handsome," I stammered, trying to inch away from the table. I could have run, but before I moved, Charlotte's hand gripped my shoulder—shockingly strong.
Too strong for a noblewoman of her size.
Strong enough to hurt a little.
I swallowed hard, heartbeat escalating, stiffening under her gaze. Her warm smile felt confident, but with a skull in the room… everything felt off.
I blinked rapidly, trying to regulate my breath.
"Um… excuse me, madam…" I said quickly, trying to step back. But Charlotte held me firmly, as if making sure I couldn't escape. I could feel each steady pressure of her hand, as if she were gauging my reactions.
It felt strange.
"Why in such a hurry? Come, I want to show you something," she said cheerfully.
Without waiting for my answer, she pushed me down onto a cold wooden stool. I exhaled slowly—well… I was trapped after all. It was as if the room sealed off every exit before I even tried to leave.
"Has Liam returned?" she asked while lifting a teapot from a table near the window.
Her movements were soft, almost like a mother preparing afternoon tea for her child. She brought the teapot closer and poured tea into a cup before me. The golden liquid curled and filled the air with warm aroma.
"Ah, yes… he has," I said while taking the cup. The scent of expensive tea filled my breath.
I sipped it slowly, letting the heat slide down my throat. But halfway through, I realized something was wrong.
My vision blurred, edges vibrating like the burning edge of a cloth.
The tea's taste… changed. Bitter-metallic, like biting an old rusted spoon.
My head grew heavy—too heavy, as if filled with wet stones. I tried to lift it, but my body refused.
In a heartbeat, I lost control.
My head slammed onto the table hard, my cup flipped, pouring hot tea across my face. It felt like burning coals melting into my skin, yet I couldn't even scream.
In the darkness, thousands of screams shattered at once. Not human voices—more like flesh being torn, bones crushed, someone's breath being ripped out of their throat. The screams layered over each other, forming colors that made no sense. Colors that shouldn't exist. Colors belonging only to something dead yet aware of itself.
The colors melted, swirling like oil in water, twisting my insides. My stomach clenched violently, twisted, kneaded… until nausea clawed up my throat.
I couldn't hold it.
My body moved on its own.
I bent forward and vomited everything.
It burst out like a dam breaking—hot, acidic, painful. Only the splash against the floor reached my ears, but in my head, it sounded like something far heavier was thrown out—as if pieces of myself were being ripped free.
I kept vomiting even after nothing remained. Only the bitter taste of blood rose from my throat, forced by how hard I retched. My body trembled, all my muscles limp like wet string.
I had never… never felt this sick in my life.
It was like my body was trying to expel something that didn't belong inside it.
"Feeling better?"
Charlotte's voice returned.
This time clear—too clear, as if she spoke directly into my ear.
Cold crept from my fingertips, crawling slowly up my arms, chest, face. The darkness tore open into faint light, until I could see the room again.
I lifted my face—still smeared with vomit and sticky tea. My vision wavered, but Charlotte's eyes were sharp. She sat calmly before me.
Her thin smile hadn't changed.
As if watching a guest sample her new dish.
While I… was struggling not to let my heart rip itself out of my chest.
Lady Charlotte moved closer, and before I could pull away, her hand—cold as lake-soaked stone—caressed my burned cheek. My skin still felt like it was peeling off, but when her palm touched me… the sensation shifted completely.
The cold wasn't ordinary cold.
It seeped through my pores, creeping under my skin, coiling around the burns like shards of ice forming inside the flesh itself. A chill too cold to be human. Like pressing ice onto my face—but the sensation came from inside, from the tissues repairing themselves.
"What do you mean… feeling better?"
My voice cracked, as if trapped in my own throat.
Charlotte smiled softly.
Too gentle for something this terrifying.
"A potion to awaken your abilities. Remember when the captain suggested you try it?"
And as she said that, the memory ignited—dark, fragmented, painfully clear.
Ah, yes.
I remembered.
The memory flowed like cold blood, creeping, stabbing.
The captain once said:
To join this work, one needed an ability. Anything. As long as it wasn't merely the body of an ordinary human.
The problem was… in this era, humans no longer naturally received mana. No longer blessed by the heavens. No longer inheriting the powers of their ancestors.
As if the world severed its bond with humans and left them blind.
So the predecessors created something worse than training.
They forced the human body to open pathways that had been sealed for thousands of years. Injecting a potion made of who knows what—an unholy mix of forbidden prayers, shattered essence of rogue spirits, blood of creatures that should never be touched, and fragments of unstable magic.
The result?
The human body rejects it.
Vomiting, pain, convulsions, blood burning through the veins, lungs crushed as if by an invisible fist, bones feeling as though they no longer belong in the body.
And after that torment… only then does the power surface.
A borrowed power from the Creator.
But borrowed power always has a price.
It doesn't last long… because anyone who receives it is required to offer a sacrifice each year.
A ritual of life reduction—a mandatory offering.
The more one uses the power, the greater its force, the more years it steals.
Each year, they age a little faster.
Each year, their bodies steal breath from their own future.
Each year, their souls are shaved away bit by bit to pay for the power they borrowed.
And if someone tries to avoid the ritual?
Their body decays, rotting from the inside out, until eventually… they die as their soul is dragged back by the one who created the power.
I swallowed, but it felt like choking down shattered glass.
"For that, this ability exists, Peter," Charlotte said softly, lifting my chin with two fingers.
"For noble work. For saving humanity. For holding back the wild spirits so they don't devour thousands more."
Her smile widened slightly—
I couldn't tell if it was pride… or the smile of someone who'd lost their sanity years ago.
"But no one can do that without… a little sacrifice."
Her fingers touched my forehead, and a cold shock stabbed through me.
"I'm only accelerating the process," she whispered.
"So you don't die before your power fully awakens."
I had always refused the awakening ritual.
Refused until my body trembled, until the captain grew tired of my excuses, until I avoided the topic every time it surfaced.
Maybe that's why Lady Charlotte was assigned to handle me now.
After what happened—when I nearly died in Rifoyd village—the captain must have decided that someone as weak as me couldn't continue without power.
And if I refused?
They would force me.
Just like this.
After releasing my face, Charlotte turned with light steps—as if nothing she'd done was cruel.
She opened the drawer of a large table stained with dried blood and bits of bone—of unknown origin—and pulled out a small pouch.
"A level-one artifact."
She held it up like she was showing a child a new toy.
"This pouch can store several medium-sized items without changing its outer size. You can keep many… things… inside."
She smiled again, lingering on the word things in a way that made my stomach twist.
Then she took out several syringes filled with a dark fluid—darker than ink, swirling like oil mixed with blood when tilted.
Under the lamp's glow, the liquid looked alive, as if something inside it moved.
"I've prepared revival elixirs for you," she continued.
"Use them only in dire situations… or you'll waste the chance.
Special abilities only awaken when your heart surges at the edge of death.
Otherwise, your body will only suffer with no result."
Silence settled.
I stared at the artifact before taking it.
My fingertip touched its surface—warm, pulsing faintly… as if the pouch was breathing.
I pretended not to feel it.
Charlotte watched me with an unreadable expression—a mix of satisfaction and pity but oddly… the pity wasn't for me.
It was for my body, as if she was saying:
"Such a shame this vessel will break faster now."
I swallowed hard.
"Thank you, my lady."
"At last, you can speak without trembling," she said.
"If tonight you ask yourself… why you had to accept this… remember just one thing."
She leaned in, staring directly into my eyes.
"You were never meant to wait until you became strong.
The world will not wait for you."
"And I am very curious, Peter…"
Her tone dropped—cold and ringing through the room.
"When your ability finally surfaces… will you shine like he once did…"
Her hand lifted my chin gently.
"…or will you crumble like most of those we tried to awaken before you?"
I froze.
Even in my weakened state, my heart thundered painfully.
Ah.
Maybe this is why the captain sent her.
He knew that if I wanted to survive this job, I had to stop being just an ordinary human.
Charlotte stepped back, smiling.
"I hope you survive, Peter.
I truly want to see… the shape of your power."