The sky was still dark when Suho woke up.
Not early-morning dark—this was something else.
His room felt… wrong. Too still. The kind of silence that made it feel like something invisible was watching, waiting.
He rubbed his eyes and checked his phone.
4:04 AM.
The glowing mark on his arm pulsed slowly, steadily—like a second heartbeat.
Then, a whisper from deep inside him.
"Awaken."
Suho sat up, breath catching. "What now?"
The answer didn't come as words—but as a shift in reality itself.
In an instant, his room faded like fog.
The walls disappeared. The floor turned to black glass. The sky above was stormy and endless, streaked with violet lightning. The air crackled with power.
This wasn't a dream.
It was real.
"You have been summoned to your first Domain," the voice said—clearer now. "A space between worlds. A realm of trial."
Suho's pulse quickened. "Trial by who?"
"Yourself. And the Throne."
The obsidian ground rumbled beneath him.
A winding path appeared ahead, carved between jagged rocks pulsing faintly with ancient runes. He stepped onto it, every footfall echoing too loud in the eerie silence.
Like the world was listening.
The path ended at a door—tall, black, covered in glowing symbols.
It opened before he could touch it.
Behind it stood Hanwol High… but twisted. Warped. Windows glowed red. Shadows moved inside, though the halls were empty.
He stepped inside—and the memories hit.
There was Jaeho, laughing like always.
There was the classroom, where pencils and cruel words flew like weapons.
The rooftop, where he once stood under the stars wondering if anything would ever change.
"You carry your pain like a shield," the voice whispered. "But it is time to face it."
The lights flickered.
Three shadows emerged from the dark.
Jaeho.
Mr. Go.
And… Suho.
But not as he was now. This was the old Suho—quiet, hunched, eyes hollow.
"This is your first Domain," the voice said. "Every Domain begins with a mirror."
The shadows charged.
They came fast.
Jaeho with glowing fists and mockery in his eyes.
Mr. Go, his arms twisting unnaturally, a sneer etched on his face.
And the old Suho… crying. Bleeding. Not fighting.
Suho reacted instinctively, power flaring from within.
He blasted Jaeho back and pushed Mr. Go away with a shockwave—but their voices remained, echoing.
"You're nothing.""No future.""You'll always be a failure."
"No!" Suho roared, fists clenched.
But the hardest part wasn't fighting them.
It was looking at the crying boy—himself.
"You didn't want power," the boy whispered. "You just wanted peace."
Suho stared, trembling. "And what did peace ever give me?"
Silence.
Then, slowly, he knelt.
He reached for his past self—not to hurt.
To embrace.
The shadow shimmered… then flowed into him like mist.
Warmth spread through his chest.
He turned back to the others.
This time, he didn't attack.
He stood tall. Open.
They struck…
…and passed through him like smoke.
And just like that, the domain faded.
"You have passed," the voice said. "You faced yourself—and survived."
The world shifted.
Now he stood in the void again—before the Throne.
Above him swirled a sky of stars.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
Shadows stood beside him—other figures. Watching. Silent.
One stepped forward.
A tall man robed in constellations.
"You are unclaimed. Unsworn. Yet you bear an ancient power," the man said, his voice echoing in Suho's bones.
"Who are you?" Suho asked.
"One who walked this path before you."
He raised a hand—and beside the Throne, another appeared.
Empty. Cracked. Waiting.
"There are many Thrones," the man said. "But only one is yours. Can you reach it before another does?"
Suho stepped forward. "And if I don't?"
The man's expression didn't change. "Then the world will forget you ever existed."
Then he vanished—leaving only stars behind.
Suho gasped and bolted upright.
He was in his bed again.
The clock still said4:04.
But something was different.
The mark on his arm now stretched across his chest, glowing faintly like starlight.
And in his mind, one final whisper echoed:
"One step closer. But not alone."
At school the next morning, something was off again.
A new student stood at the front of Class F-3.
Tall. Pale. Red hair. Amber eyes.
The girls murmured behind their hands.
"Is he foreign?"
"He looks like a model."
But Suho didn't care about looks.
He felt the pressure in the air. The same energy Kain had.
The boy locked eyes with him… and smiled.
Not kindly.
Knowingly.
During lunch, Suho sat alone again—under the sakura tree.
But this time, someone approached.
Not the red-haired boy.
A girl.
Silver hair. Ponytail. Eyes like rainclouds. Calm.
She sat across from him without asking. Placed a small envelope on the table.
"You've walked your first Domain," she said.
Suho blinked. "Who are you?"
"Someone who did the same… four years ago."
"You're like me?"
She nodded once.
He opened the envelope.
Inside: a hand-drawn map. Coordinates. And a sentence written in tight, neat script:
"The next gate opens in seven days."
When he looked up… she was gone.
Just gone.
That night, Suho stood on his rooftop.
City lights flickered below. The wind was colder than usual.
And in the distance—dark clouds gathered.
Not normal weather.
He could feel it now.
Something big was coming.
Gods were stirring.
Demons were watching.
And he was caught in the middle of it all.
Once, he just wanted to be seen.
Now?
He just wanted to survive long enough to matter.
The Thrones were watching.
And time was running out.