Severe Shut-In Cultivator

Earth had once been finished.

Gates had opened. Monsters that shrugged off modern weapons had poured through. Entire nations had more or less collapsed. The human population had plummeted from eight billion to three.

Gates appearing over the capitals of the major powers and advanced countries had swallowed those cities whole; China and India, in particular, had been written off as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beyond recovery and erased from history.

Fourteen hundred million and sixteen hundred million people—three billion souls between them—had become fodder for the beasts. Not that any nation had truly been spared.

When humanity teetered on the brink of extinction, the superhumans appeared. They commanded an unknown energy that had arrived with the gates and wielded techniques unlike anything the world had known. Not Awakeners—cultivators. They drove the monsters of Earth back.

A single punch could shatter a mountain; a single stroke of a sword could part the sea. Beings who withstood nuclear bombardment with their bare flesh overturned the course of the war, hunted the creatures in turn, and refined them into pills. The invincible beasts were demoted to mere demon beasts—and became prey.

Demon-beast byproducts forged magical instruments, powered formation arrays, and served as versatile materials for consumables like talismans. That alone would have been enough, but the demon cores of those beasts drove the scientists studying spiritual energy half mad.

Swallow a core condensed from spiritual energy and your realm rose; refine it into a pill and the effect doubled. An ordinary person who took one was cured of every disease; anyone with spiritual roots advanced in cultivation. A panacea that shattered every limit of modern medicine had arrived.

And the cultivators themselves? Reach only the first step of the path—the Qi Refinement Stage—and your lifespan stretched to two hundred years. People who had dreamed of eternal youth flung themselves into cultivation with bloodshot eyes. They hunted demon beasts, cultivated, and raised more cultivators, reclaiming the Earth.

And so an age dawned in which superhumans tended the cities, everyone practiced cultivation, and national borders dissolved. Centuries had passed since the Great Cultivation Era began.

The former Republic of Korea. The present K-Sector.

Seoul, once the capital of the Korean Peninsula, had been swallowed by a gate and vanished—but the will of a people who loved the Han River refused to die. K-Sector: a city raised at the heart of the peninsula, between Seoul and Pyongyang. A colossal megacity built on the combined lands of Seoul, Pyongyang, and Kaesong—Future Special City.

This place was the future of the peninsula, the pride of a people grown small.

"Whoa…"

Nain sat alone in the living room, watching the hologram television with open wonder. On the screen, a documentary was broadcasting the history and triumphs of humanity.

A single sword cleaved through ten thousand techniques. Clusters of soaring arts tore open the sky. A roaring beast dwindled into a handful of pills and vanished into a splendid furnace.

Since childhood, Nain had watched that documentary at least once a day without fail. The sight of heroes defending humanity had kindled a fire in the hearts of countless young men—herself included. Even if she had become a woman now.

When the morning broadcast ended, she left the living room for her bedroom. Nain stretched, arms and legs short and slender lengthening deliciously. Mid-stretch she snatched, catlike, at a scroll drifting through the air.

Flutter?

The scroll, which had been leisurely swimming through the air, radiated bewilderment. Nain paid it no mind and snapped it open.

She read the status window slowly, carefully. Her gaze settled on a single line.

Current Realm: Severing Longevity Stage — 80%.

"Th-this is genuinely pathetic."

An unfamiliar high voice slipped out of her, but the contents of the window claimed more of her attention. Severing Longevity Stage, eighty percent. Fifteen years of effort, and she had filled only four-fifths of the requirement—roughly five percent a year. To reach Qi Refinement she would need another four years of grinding.

With one year left until the Second Selection, Nain had effectively been finished. Fail a selection that demanded even one star of Qi Refinement, and she would have been shipped off to an outer-planet mine.

"Heh heh heh."

Nain's shoulders shook with laughter. Her chest was full of bright anticipation. From here on, the road ahead was a smooth highway! With the status window at her side, immortality was a given. What greater blessing could there be for someone who had set her heart on cultivation?

Farewell to the talentless self of the past. From now on she would be a genius who made Foundation Establishment cultivators gasp and Golden Core cultivators stare in disbelief.

And the first great step she took toward that destiny was… borrowing money from her mother.

"…Eheh."

I drank a lot, and I burned through all my talismans before that, so I'm short on cash…

The cause was herself. In her previous life Nain had never touched alcohol and had never intended to. The price of that one despair-driven lapse had been enormous.

Cultivation cost money. A great ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deal of it. With a hundred ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠credits she could buy talisman materials and a single lowest-grade spirit stone—nothing more. Nowhere near enough for real training.

Nain tapped the bracelet on her wrist. It was a new-model terminal fusing scientific tech with immortal-dao craft. With a soft flare, a hologram rose into the air. She spun the display this way and that until she reached her contacts.

She hesitated.

On the verge of selecting the entry saved as Mother, Nain exhaled a long breath, trying to bleed off the tension she had been holding down.

"It's nothing."

She just needed to explain the situation and get a little credit support. Walking the cultivation path, she had seen stranger things than this. People sprouting fur all over and turning into animals. Bodies hardening into inanimate objects. Compared to those, a change of sex was surprising, sure—but not the sort of thing that should provoke genuine horror.

"Sh-she'll understand… right?"

…Probably. She was detached, but she wasn't cold toward her own children. The finger that had been trembling with worry and nerves finally stilled. Nain pressed the call button hard.

"Here goes!"

Rrring… rrring…

The signal tone stretched on. Nain swallowed. The moment felt endless.

Then a soft click—the call connected. A hologram floated up to announce the link.

"……."

Until that second her head had been full of how to persuade her mother. The moment she heard that cool voice, her mouth locked shut. Not a sound would come out.

She opened her lips. Closed them. Opened them again. Like a deep-sea fish making a foolish face. Seconds crawled by. Shame set her heart hammering as if it would burst, and her face burned scarlet.

Augh, uuugh…

Forcing it only brought on hyperventilation. Someone seemed to be squeezing her heart and threatening her to hang up this instant. So Nain surrendered to the threat.

Click.

She jabbed the end button. The call died for nothing. Only then did the forced tide of shame and humiliation drain away.

"Hieeek…"

Nain sank onto the bed and gasped for air. Cold sweat soaked her clothes through. The scroll slipped from her nerveless fingers and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tumbled across the blanket.

She steadied her breathing and lifted her head. Her gaze found the wide-open window. A cloudless blue sky, morning sun pouring down in a brilliant flood.

"Hiiiek!"

It was fine a second ago—!

The instant she registered that dazzling world, goosebumps raced over every inch of her skin. A scream tore out of her on reflex. Even as her feet tangled and she rolled across the floor, she crawled hard enough to yank the blackout curtains shut with a violent pull.

Shhhrrk!

Warm darkness blanketed the room. It still wasn't enough.

Scramble!

She vaulted onto the bed and buried herself under the thick covers. In that snug dark and silence, her trembling body finally stilled.

"Wh-what is this."

As the tension broke, tears came of their own accord. The sudden flood of feeling was nothing Nain could control.

"Hic… hic…"

Fat tears plinked down onto the blanket. Even the half-detached part of her mind that had been watching her body from a step back was pulled under and mourned in earnest. For a full hour she simply cried under the covers.

"Hah—!"

She flicked open her terminal, saw how much time had slipped by, and startled. Messages from her mother filled the app—worried notes about the call that had cut off so suddenly and gone unanswered.

Messages upon messages. Nain worked her short fingers furiously and answered them one by one. The excuses weren't easy. But thanks to Eun Seolhwa's usual indifference, Nain managed to weather the crisis.

The cultivation support funds she had hoped for landed in her hands as well.

"……."

But Nain's expression was as vacant as a raccoon's after someone had washed all the cotton candy out of its paws. She looked soul-adrift, as if this simply could not be, as if she were refusing the fact itself.

"Y-you…!"

Flutter? Flutter!

From under the covers she seized the scroll and shook it. The scroll only tilted its "head" in confusion.

"How could you do this to me!"

Tears at the drop of a hat. Terror of talking to people. Goosebumps at the mere sight of sunlight and blue sky. There was only one diagnosis that fit.

Nain had become a severe shut-in. From beneath the blankets, a small, adorable wail rang out.