Date: March 19th, Year 20 A.A. (After Awakening)
In a world ruled by the Awakened, the rest of us became shadows.
And in my case... a target.
His name was Gan Sae Bok—a student on the same Korean college campus. Same age as me. A fire-type mage. B-Rank.
Tall. Sharp-eyed. Always surrounded by the other "gifted."
The first day he got his power verified, he lit a spark in his palm and grinned like he owned the world.
And from that day forward…
I became his favorite toy.
Every time they ate lunch, they'd come out of the campus gates—not to relax or study—but to find me.
The Unawakened. The street rat. The reject.
They'd laugh while Gan ripped my shirt with bursts of heat, burned my nails, and sometimes—punched me square in the face with a hand that felt like molten steel.
My skin still carries the marks. Pale scars. Red patches. Lines that sting when the cold wind cuts too deep.
> "Hey, Rover. Mind holding this for me?"
FWOOSH.
A flicker of flame. Too close.
My sleeve caught fire.
My arm sizzled.
They laughed.
I didn't.
Sometimes he hit me with controlled blasts—just enough to burn. Not enough to kill. Always just below the line.
Always "just a prank."
I still carry those burns.
I tried reporting him once.
The police said,
> "Sae Bok has real potential. Let's not cause trouble over a misunderstanding."
A misunderstanding?
They looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was dirt on their clean world. Just another Unawakened beggar. No records. No power. No voice.
A reminder of weakness in a world that only worships strength.
I sleep outside now. Behind stores. Under bridges. Wherever there's space.
And every night before I fall asleep—shivering, hungry—I ask myself:
> "What would my life be like if Mom and Dad were still alive?"
"What if the world never broke?"
"Would I be smiling somewhere?"
"Would I be happy?"
I talk to myself a lot.
Sometimes just to remember I exist.
But deep down… I know the truth.
This is my reality.
I steal food from grocery stores just to survive.
I can't get a job—no one will hire me.
No school wants me.
No guild would even look in my direction.
And sometimes—just sometimes—I think:
> "Would it be easier to just... end it?"
Hah.
That would be simple, wouldn't it?
But I can't.
Because something's burning inside me.
Not the kind you summon with a spell.
The kind that festers. That simmers. That waits.
The kind of fire you can't see—
—until it erupts.
---
To be continue....