Chapter 2: A World That Remembers
Morning arrived without ceremony.
Light filtered through thin curtains, pale and weak, settling over the small apartment like it was unsure it belonged there. I lay still for a while, listening—to the hum of traffic outside, to the distant voices of neighbors starting their day, to the quiet, steady rhythm of breathing that reminded me this body was real and fragile in ways the last one hadn't been.
This life was smaller.
That wasn't a complaint. Just an observation.
I sat up slowly, feet touching the cold floor, and felt the familiar restraint settle around me. My power was there, as constant as gravity, but wrapped tight, buried so deep that even I had to reach carefully to feel its edges. It wasn't a seal that hurt. It was more like a rule the world enforced politely but firmly.
Don't push.
I washed my face, studied my reflection. Older than the students who filled the streets nearby, younger than the men who truly ruled them. An age that invited neither challenge nor curiosity. Perfect for staying unnoticed.
In the other room, my sister was already awake, humming softly as she got ready for school. Ordinary sounds. Human sounds. They grounded me more effectively than any restraint ever could.
"You're up early," she said when she noticed me leaning against the doorway.
"Habit," I replied.
She smiled, distracted, tying her hair. There was no fear in her eyes, no awareness of the weight the world carried just beneath the surface. I wanted to keep it that way.
Outside, the city moved like it always had, ignorant of the layers beneath its own noise. Students laughed too loudly. Workers complained. Somewhere, deals were being made that would end in broken bones by nightfall. Somewhere else, someone strong enough to matter was waking up with a sense of unease they couldn't explain.
I felt it before I saw it.
That faint pressure in the air, like the echo of a sound too low to hear. Someone paying attention.
Gun stood across the street, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that fooled everyone except those who knew better. His eyes slid past me at first, then paused. Not locking on. Just… hesitating.
Our gazes didn't meet.
They didn't need to.
He frowned slightly, the smallest crack in his composure, then looked away and continued walking as if nothing had happened. The moment passed, but it left something behind. A question. An instinct refusing to settle.
Goo would hear about it later. James Lee might feel it as a ripple. Charles Choi would file it away as an anomaly, something to be accounted for but not confronted.
Good.
I walked my sister to school part of the way, stopping before the streets grew too crowded with students. She waved and ran ahead, blending into the story that belonged to her generation.
Daniel Park was somewhere among them.
I didn't look for him.
Legends don't announce themselves. They wait, and let the world decide when it's ready to notice.
As I turned back, the pressure faded. The city exhaled. The scale stabilized.
For now.
The world remembered me, even if it didn't know my name anymore. And that was enough to let the story continue—slowly, honestly, one step at a time.