Awakening Shrouded in the Accident

By the time I reached home, the sun had already set completely. Standing at the front door catching my breath, light spilled out from inside. The moment I opened the door, a familiar scent brushed against my nose. The warm aroma of soup.

“…You’re home?”

The living room lights were on, and Mother peeked out from the kitchen. I paused for a moment. Everything that had happened at school. The training hall. My collapsed body. Blood spreading across the floor. The sword soaked in red. None of those scenes had settled in my mind yet, but Mother’s face was far too calm.

“Take off your shoes and come in.”

The same tone as always. The same expression as always. Strangely, that made it feel even more unfamiliar. I removed my shoes in silence and stepped inside. Mother glanced over my face once, then nodded without a word.

“Shower first. We can eat after.”

No questions. Not “Are you okay?” Not “What happened?” Not even “I heard someone died.” Nothing. That, oddly enough, made it easier to breathe. If she had asked, if I had been forced to explain, I wouldn’t have been able to say a single word.

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot water poured over my head. At first, no thoughts came. I just stood there. Water ran down my back, pooled on the floor, and disappeared down the drain. Only after a long while did I notice my hands were trembling. I couldn’t tell if it was from the water or if my body was finally reacting now.

When I closed my eyes, Jae-hoon’s face rose before me. His eyes half-closed, seeing nothing. Even the silence of that moment came back vividly. I clenched my teeth and opened my eyes again. Water stung as it got into them, but that helped somehow.

When I finished showering and came out, dinner was already set on the table. Seaweed soup. White rice. Simple side dishes. Mother was already seated, as if she had been waiting since before I came out. I sat down without a word. I picked up the spoon, but my hand had no strength. Mother quietly placed her hand over mine. A light pat. So gentle it felt like she was telling my body first, “It’s okay now.”

“It’s fine. Just eat for today.”

At those words, something in my chest sank. I lowered my head and scooped up some soup. It was warm. The moment I swallowed, my throat tightened slightly. Mother said nothing until I finished eating. She only moved side dishes toward me or ladled more soup into my bowl. That silence wasn’t burdensome. For me right now, it was exactly what I needed.

Only after I finished did Mother speak.

“The school called.”

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set my spoon down.

“They said it was a serious accident. They told you to rest at home for now.”

Her voice remained steady. I knew that calmness wasn’t fake. Mother had always been that way—someone who accepted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the situation first before letting emotions lead.

“Do-yoon.”

She called my name. I looked up.

“What happened today…”

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully.

“Don’t try to sort it all out right now.”

After another brief silence, she added quietly,

“It must feel… too big for you. But I’m here. I’ll help you through it.”

Another gentle pat. This time on my shoulder. For a moment, I felt like I might cry. I turned my head—not because I was about to cry, but because crying felt like it would break something.

“Go rest in your room. That’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough for today.”

I nodded instead of answering and stood up. I entered my room and closed the door. It was a familiar space. Desk, bed, the old sword sheath hanging on the wall. Everything was exactly the same. That very sameness felt heavy right now.

When I sat on the bed, strength drained from my body. Only then did my mind feel like it was returning. And that was when it happened. My heart began beating to a different rhythm. Until now, there had only been confusion and guilt. But beneath them, another emotion was rising.

Awakening.

The word surfaced quietly. Expectation. Excitement. The urge to confirm it. And at the same time, a strange disgust toward myself for feeling that way.

In this situation…

Someone had died. Everything had fallen apart. Yet one side of my chest was strangely warming at the fact that it had finally come. I clenched my teeth and slowly steadied my breathing. Then I opened the status window.

I stared at those lines for a long time. One. Truly, only one.

Crimson Trace.

I swallowed and checked the description.

It was short. Yet strangely, each sentence felt like it was tightening around my throat. It felt less like I was reading and more like I was being pressed down.

A trajectory only I can see.

I felt as if a line was being drawn before my eyes. Even though I had never actually seen it, the line was already rising in my mind.

Must strike precisely.

It wasn’t coincidence or intuition. It was an intentional trajectory. Hesitating or missing would halve the effect.

Deep wounds.

A phrase that could mean death—or not.

Unconsciously, I looked down at my hands. The sword I had held today. Not its weight, but the sensation. The vibration left in my palm. The recoil against my wrist. The resistance at the moment of cutting. But I shook my head right away.

No. Today’s events weren’t because of this skill. Today, death had come first, not awakening. Someone had collapsed, their breath had stopped, and only after that had the message reached my ears.

That message hadn’t been congratulations or a declaration. It had been closer to confirmation. The conditions were the result, and awakening had merely followed after. As if stamping a seal on something already finished.

I looked at the status window again. The skill was open. But I had no memory of using it. No—the situation itself had never existed. Today, I had never had the chance to see and aim for a “red trajectory.” No time to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠think, no time to adjust. Everything had been too fast, too close.

I bit my lip. Then only one thing remained. This wasn’t the awakening I had wanted. Even though it was the message I had been waiting for, what I received wasn’t power but an indescribable discomfort. It felt less like I had gained something and more like I was only now confirming the price I had already paid.

I slowly closed the status window, as if I shouldn’t look any further. My chest felt tight. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy about the skill—it was that I was afraid. What this power meant, what price I would have to pay from now on… I stood before a door without knowing anything. I only vaguely sensed that what lay beyond would be difficult to bear.

Below it, another line appeared.

I stared at those numbers for a while. 0 / 10. There was no explanation of the condition anywhere. No hint of what I needed to do or how far I had to go. Nothing. That made it feel worse. It didn’t mean it was over. It meant awakening was only the beginning, and even the skill I now held wasn’t everything.

I slowly looked down at my hands. Nothing had changed. No blood, no wounds, no light leaking out. My palms were still human hands. Yet I could feel it. Clearly. Something that hadn’t been inside me before had taken root. And I could also feel how dangerous that was.

I didn’t look at the status window any longer. I closed it slowly, as if I still didn’t have the right to face it. Leaning back against the bed, I lay down. Only then did a long breath escape me. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I tried not to think, but my thoughts wouldn’t stop. My mind was slowly beginning to organize itself.

Now… what do I do?

The question rose, but no answer came. Only one thing was clear. I couldn’t go back. The option of returning to before today, to the state where I knew nothing, had already disappeared. I had crossed the line. Whether I intended to or not. I couldn’t ignore this power, nor could I pretend not to know. The more I tried, the heavier the price I would pay—that premonition alone remained.

From outside the door came the sound of Mother turning off the lights. Click. The house fell completely silent. That sound felt strangely real. I closed my eyes. I had awakened. I had gained a skill. But—

This wasn’t a blessing. It wasn’t a gift. It was the result of the path I had chosen—or rather, the time I had endured. And now I had to carry that result to the very end. Condition 0 / 10. Those numbers wouldn’t disappear even if I closed my eyes. From now on, I had to think about what I needed to do. No—what I had to reach.