PROLOGUE — THE FALL OF JOG LIN 🌑
The morning wind drifted softly through the streets of Vareth.
Cold. Quiet. Empty.
Jog Lin walked alone beneath the pale sky, his school bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. A notebook rested under his arm, worn from years of use. Behind his ear sat a black pen—the only thing he trusted more than people.
Writing was never a hobby for him.
It was escape.
While others laughed together, fought together, lived together... Lin wrote.
Stories understood him better than humans ever did.
And perhaps that was why the world loved his words.
At just seventeen, Jog Lin had become a name known far beyond the borders of his town. His novels were read across the nation of Eryndor. Critics called him a genius. Readers called him a legend.
But fame is a cruel thing.
The more the world admired him...
the more isolated he became.
Friends slowly turned into strangers.
Conversations became whispers.
Smiles became masks.
In the end, only his pen remained beside him.
Monday — The Day Everything Changed
That morning felt wrong.
The moment Lin entered the school gates, silence spread through the hallway like an unseen wave.
Students stared at him.
Some with admiration.
Some with envy.
Some with hatred.
Near the entrance hall, a newspaper lay crumpled on the floor, moving slightly in the cold breeze.
Lin stopped.
Then slowly picked it up.
His eyes froze on the headline.
"LORD MOZARKE PURCHASES JOG LIN'S NOVEL — THE YOUNGEST WRITER TO REACH THE ROYAL LIBRARY."
For a brief moment...
his heart trembled.
Lord Mozarke.
One of the most powerful figures in the entire continent.
His novel had reached the highest circles of society.
Anyone else would have celebrated.
But Lin only smiled quietly.
A tired smile.
Because success had given him everything—
except someone to share it with.
The Celebration
By afternoon, the classroom had transformed into a small celebration.
Music echoed softly through the room.
Students laughed.
Teachers congratulated him.
Yet something felt... distant.
Artificial.
Lin noticed three boys watching him from the back corner of the classroom.
Daren.
Mikel.
Roth.
Classmates he had once considered friends.
Before fame changed everything.
Daren stepped forward with a grin.
"We have something special for you, Lin."
Lin blinked in surprise.
"For me?"
Mikel nodded.
"A gift. Come to the rooftop after class."
For the first time in months...
Lin felt genuinely happy.
Maybe he had been wrong.
Maybe he had not lost everyone after all.
The Rooftop
The evening sky burned orange as Lin stepped onto the rooftop.
Cold wind rushed past him.
The city stretched endlessly below.
The three boys stood near the edge, strangely silent.
Then—
Daren pointed forward.
"Close your eyes first."
Lin laughed softly.
"Seriously?"
"Trust us."
Trust.
Such a simple word.
Lin closed his eyes.
He heard footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Click...
Click...
Click...
Then silence.
"Open them."
Lin opened his eyes—
—and his breath stopped.
Lying before him was a rare collector's edition novel.
The very book he had searched for over five years.
His favorite story.
Untouched.
Perfect.
For a moment, he forgot everything else.
The loneliness.
The whispers.
The distance.
A real smile appeared on his face.
"This is... incredible."
Behind him—
the boys exchanged silent looks.
But there was no warmth in their eyes.
Only resentment.
Only hatred.
Daren stepped closer.
Too close.
"You really thought you were better than us?"
Lin turned slowly.
Confused.
"What...?"
Mikel's voice trembled.
Not with fear.
With anger.
"Everywhere we go, people only talk about you."
"Jog Lin the genius."
"Jog Lin the prodigy."
"Do you know how sick we are of hearing your name?"
The wind grew stronger.
Lin stepped backward unconsciously.
His heel touched the edge.
And suddenly—
he understood.
Fear entered his chest for the very first time.
"No... wait—"
Daren smiled.
A cold, broken smile.
Then—
he pushed him.
The Fall
Time slowed.
The rooftop disappeared above him.
The sky twisted violently.
Cold air screamed past his body.
Lin reached upward instinctively—
toward the people he once trusted.
But no one reached back.
The city lights blurred.
His heartbeat thundered inside his ears.
For one final moment...
Jog Lin saw the world exactly as it truly was.
Beautiful.
Cruel.
Empty.
Then darkness swallowed him whole.
Beyond Death
Silence.
No pain.
No light.
Only endless darkness.
Lin tried to move—
but his body no longer existed.
Then—
a voice echoed through the void.
Soft.
Ancient.
Almost sorrowful.
"A soul abandoned by its own world..."
"Tell me, writer..."
"If I give you the power to rewrite fate itself—"
"What kind of ending will you choose?"
A black pen appeared before him.
Floating silently in the darkness.
The same pen he had carried his entire life.
But now—
strange symbols glowed across its surface.
And somewhere far away...
another pair of eyes slowly opened.
A different world.
A different name.
Han Seojin.
The story of Jog Lin had ended.
But the story of the Lost Soul...
had only just begun.