The school had mostly moved on. Students gossiped in whispers, but Ji Han kept his head down as usual, blending back into the background like he always did.But the System Monitoring Division(SMD) seems to have taken an interest in him.
Only one person didn't treat him differently.
The same person who never did.
Kang Ha Neul.
They sat on the rooftop again, side by side, saying nothing for a while. The wind blew softly, lifting strands of Ha Neul's silver hair. Ji Han sat with his arms loosely around his knees, eyes half-lidded, face calm as ever.
Then—without looking—Ji Han asked quietly,
"You're not going to ask?"
Ha Neul didn't pretend not to understand.
He blew a bubble with his gum. It popped softly.
"Nah," he said. "If you wanted to talk, you'd talk."
A pause.
"Besides," he added, "I already know."
Ji Han turned his head slightly. "...You do?"
Ha Neul looked at him then, the sunlight catching in his eyes. "You feel things, don't you? Everyone's emotions. Like they're wires hooked into your skin."
Ji Han didn't answer, but the silence said enough.
Kang Ha Neul's System: SYSTEM MIRROR
– Ability to temporarily copy the core trait of someone emotionally linked to him.
– Can only hold one ability at a time.
– Duration and clarity depend on emotional strength and resonance.
– Mirror resets if bond weakens or breaks.
He had copied Ji Han once, just briefly—months ago, when they first met.
He didn't mean to. Back then, he didn't even fully understand his own system. He'd just felt something... odd, when Ji Han stood beside him for the first time: that quiet, unreadable presence, like standing next to a lake so still it didn't even ripple in the wind.
Then the whispers began.
Faint emotions.
Others' feelings that weren't his.
It lasted less than five minutes.
But in those five minutes, Ha Neul had almost drowned.
Now, he was used to Ji Han's quiet.
He liked it, actually.
Where others talked endlessly or exploded with emotion, Ji Han said little—but meant everything. His silence wasn't cold. Just... restrained. Controlled. Like someone who'd seen too much of the world before he had a chance to live in it.
And slowly, Ha Neul found himself lingering beside him longer.
Choosing him over the noise of everyone else.
He never said it. He didn't need to.
Downstairs, class was in session, but the rooftop was quiet—just the two of them.
"Your system," Ji Han said suddenly. "You've never used it in front of anyone."
Ha Neul smirked. "Neither have you."
Ji Han didn't smile, but his eyes softened for a second.
"So," Ha Neul said, leaning back on his elbows, "what do we call ourselves? Ghosts?"
"No," Ji Han replied. "Ghosts are dead. We're still watching."
That made Ha Neul laugh. "Deep, man. Real poetic."
A short pause.
Then, Ha Neul's voice dropped, quieter. "You know, when I copied you... even for a second... it hurt."
Ji Han blinked. "Hurt?"
"Yeah. All those feelings. The noise. It was like holding fire with bare hands. I don't know how you walk around with it every day."
Ji Han looked away, eyes distant. "You get used to it."
"That's the scary part," Ha Neul murmured.
That evening, a small red alert lit up on their school's internal system.
[D-Rank Rift Detected – Location: Alley behind Zone 6 Market]
Nearest registered Responders: Kang Ha Neul, Lee Ji Han
Estimated Threat Level: Low to Moderate. Assignment Mandatory.
Ji Han sighed quietly.
Ha Neul stretched and cracked his neck. "Well, guess it's time to be heroes."
Ji Han stood up. "Don't copy me this time."
Ha Neul flashed a small grin. "No promises."
---
The Zone 6 Market had already closed for the evening. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows between stacks of empty crates and locked shutters. The back alley was narrow and quiet—too quiet.
Ji Han and Ha Neul arrived just as the air shifted.
A static charge buzzed around them. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet, and cracks in the pavement pulsed with faint purple light.
[RIFT DETECTED – D-RANK – ACTIVE]
A faint, circular distortion shimmered in the center of the alley wall. It looked like a ripple on glass—barely noticeable unless you were trained to see it.
Ji Han stared at it, his gaze calm but alert. "Timer says ten minutes before it closes on its own."
"That's long enough," Ha Neul replied, stretching his arms. "Let's see what crawled out of this one."
A shriek split the air—metallic and high-pitched.
The rift pulsed again, and something slithered through.
It wasn't large—no more than two meters tall—but its body was long and segmented, like a skeletal centipede forged out of twisted black metal. Purple smoke leaked from its joints. Its head had no eyes, just rows of grinding teeth.
Ji Han's eyes narrowed. "Emotionless-type."
"Figures," Ha Neul muttered. "Always ugly."
These types were unstable. Born from emotional voids—places where despair, apathy, and suppression clung to reality long enough to tear it. They weren't intelligent, but they were fast, violent, and hard to read.
Ji Han stepped forward slowly, his fingers twitching.
[Emotion Sync – Active]
Target: Rift-born Entity (Emotionless-Type)
Detected: Apathy. Emptiness. Residual fear from nearby civilians.
Ji Han didn't hesitate. He didn't need to. Years of silence had taught him how to fight without speaking.
The creature lunged.
Ji Han sidestepped cleanly and let his palm graze its side.
[Absorbed Emotion: Civilian Fear – +12% Combat Focus Boost]
His body moved smoother, faster. He ducked beneath a sweeping tail, twisted, and landed a solid blow to its joint. Metal cracked.
Ha Neul watched from behind.
Then, without warning, his pupils flickered gold.
[System Mirror – Active]
Target: Lee Ji Han (Emotion Bond: Stable)
Copied Trait: Emotion Absorption (Tier I – Fragmented)]
Ha Neul stepped forward casually. The rift creature turned toward him.
Ha Neul's gaze was steady.
He didn't feel fear. Or rage. Or even excitement.
But Ji Han's lingering presence beside him—his calm, his strange stillness—echoed in the space between them.
And for a moment, Ha Neul could feel it.
Just faintly, barely more than a whisper.
[Absorbed Emotion: Ji Han – Calm Control]
Effect: -20% incoming reaction delay. +10% critical focus]
He moved.
Not like a fighter trained in flashy moves—
—but like someone who knew how to survive.
He jabbed the creature's weak point—its underjoint—and Ji Han struck the finishing blow from the other side, the two of them syncing up without a single word.
[Rift Entity Destroyed.]
[Local Rift Stabilizing…]
The air slowly stilled.
Ji Han exhaled, brushing dust off his sleeves. "You copied me again."
"Yeah." Ha Neul didn't bother denying it. "You're useful."
Ji Han gave him a look. "You could've copied someone stronger."
"Could've," Ha Neul replied. "But I didn't."
Ji Han's expression was unreadable.
"...You're weird," he said quietly.
Ha Neul smiled. "Takes one to know one."
Later, as the Rift Authority arrived to clear the site and log the mission, Ji Han walked ahead toward the exit.
Ha Neul lingered for a moment, gazing at his own reflection in a broken shard of glass on the ground.
For a second, he saw something strange in his eyes—like someone else staring back through the mirror. A flicker of emotion that wasn't entirely his.
He blinked—and it was gone.