---
"Where is he…?"
Mrs. Jung muttered for the fifth time in the last hour as she adjusted the lid on the pot of bubbling stew. The scent of radish and beef broth filled the kitchen, but the fire was already turned off. The green onions she expected Ha-Joon to bring still hadn't arrived.
She wiped her hands and walked to the living room.
"Ha-Rin," she called gently, "your brother's still not back. He left more than an hour ago, didn't he?"
Ha-Rin looked up from her phone, surprised. "What? He went just to the convenience store, right?"
"Yes. I asked him to buy green onions and soy sauce…"
"That should take five minutes."
They both stared at the clock: 6:42 PM.
Ha-Rin stood quickly and reached for her phone.
---
The call rang once, twice, three times. No answer.
"Maybe his phone died," Ha-Rin said, half-assuring herself, though the knot in her stomach grew.
Mrs. Jung opened the front door, stepping out onto the narrow corridor that overlooked the stairwell. "Joon-ah!" she called down the steps.
Only silence answered her.
---
Their father, Mr. Jung, had just finished a night shift and was lying on the floor, arm over his eyes. Hearing the worry in their voices, he sat up slowly.
"What's going on?"
"Ha-Joon didn't come back," Mrs. Jung said, voice tight. "He went to the store a while ago and hasn't returned."
Mr. Jung blinked the sleep away and stood up with a groan. "Did you call him?"
"Not answering."
"I'll check the store."
---
Down at the convenience store, the part-time clerk blinked in confusion as the middle-aged man asked questions.
"Yes, he was here… Maybe an hour ago? He bought some stuff. I think green onions and… soy sauce?" he recalled, scratching his head. "Paid in cash, exact change. Then left."
"Did he seem worried or like he was in a rush?"
"No. Not at all. Just quiet. Like usual."
Mr. Jung stepped out and looked up and down the street. Traffic moved normally. People passed by. There was no sign of anything unusual—no accidents, no crowd.
It was as if Ha-Joon had simply disappeared into thin air.
---
That night, the family called the police.
An officer came by, took notes, asked standard questions.
"Teenagers run away all the time," the officer said flatly. "Any signs of stress? Problems at school? Fights at home?"
"No," Mrs. Jung said, holding back tears. "He was just studying. He always listens to us. He's not like that."
"Still, we'll file the report. If he turns up, you'll be contacted."
He left a phone number and told them to "stay calm."
But there was nothing calm about the feeling of not knowing.
---
Two days passed.
Three.
The police never followed up.
Ha-Rin printed flyers and put them up around the block.
Her father checked every CCTV pole he could find. Most weren't working.
Mrs. Jung wandered the streets in the evenings, whispering her son's name as if he would suddenly appear behind a corner.
No news. No sign. No clues.
Even the green onions never turned up.
---
Meanwhile, the girls who had been at the store that day were in quiet torment.
They met in secret, in one of their rooms, and stared at the video one of them had recorded by accident on her phone. She had been filming herself holding snacks—but in the background, the footage showed it all:
The swirling blue gate.
The quiet boy standing in front of it.
The kick.
And then… nothing.
They sat in horror. Their faces pale.
"We can't tell anyone," one of them whispered.
"But we… we killed him," another said shakily.
"No. We didn't kill him. He disappeared. There was no body. Maybe he's alive…?"
"He's gone! He vanished into a gate! What if someone finds out?! We'll be ruined!"
"But what if it comes back…?"
They watched the clip again.
And again.
Eventually, one of them deleted it.
---
Three weeks later, the story made national headlines.
Gates—strange glowing portals—had begun appearing across the world.
At first, there were just two in Japan, then one in New York. Then twenty more. Then fifty.
People started calling them "dimensional rifts." Within days, teams of military and science agencies tried to enter them. Some who entered never returned. Others emerged with horrifying stories: monsters, strange terrain, crystals, impossible physics.
And then came the first Awakened—individuals who entered the gates and came back… different. With abilities. Strength beyond normal. Vision in the dark. Enhanced hearing. Healing.
Suddenly, the world was no longer the same.
---
South Korea established the Hunter Control Authority within a month.
The government announced that any civilians who found a gate should call the hotline immediately. New laws were passed overnight. "Awakeners" were registered, ranked, and trained.
Monster crystals—dropped from slain creatures—began appearing in underground markets. Rumors of dungeons with untold treasures spread like wildfire.
Hunters were now celebrities. Some were recruited by major guilds. Others trained alone.
The world was on the edge of transformation.
---
But in a small neighborhood in Suwon, the Jung family remained broken.
One empty chair at the dinner table.
One locked bedroom.
One silence that no amount of news could distract them from.
Ha-Rin stared at the TV, where a flashy reporter talked about "rising S-Rank stars" and "the awakening revolution."
Her father sat with his head down, rubbing his tired eyes.
And her mother folded laundry with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.
"I don't care if he's in another world," Mrs. Jung whispered. "I just want him to be warm… fed… safe…"
---
Meanwhile…
Ha-Joon was none of those things.
---
He gasped as he stumbled backward into a rock, bleeding from his arm, staring up at a hideous, red-eyed beast that resembled a boar but stood on two legs.
His hands shook. His breath was shallow. He had nothing but a broken stick.
The creature charged.
He screamed.
---
And just as it lunged—
A voice echoed in his mind.
> [SYSTEM DETECTED]
Initializing Emergency Awakening...
Syncing with host: JUNG HA-JOON
Welcome to the Endless Realm.
You have entered a locked plane of evolution.
No return until system completion.
Primary Directive:
Survive.
---
---