Breakfast passed in an uneasy silence.

  The dining room was warm, but something about it felt tense, like everyone was holding their breath. Do-Hyun sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, absently nudging his omelet with his fork. He wasn't hungry—the mana he'd absorbed in the greenhouse still lingered in his body, keeping his senses sharp and his mind restless.

  [Vitality: 12.8%]

  [System Note: You look almost human today. A little less corpse-like. Keep it up, and you might even grow a personality.]

  Across the table, Seo-Rin sat motionless, her fork untouched. Her gaze was fixed on the glass of water before her, a fragile thing in the warm room.

  She looked exhausted — pale skin, dark circles under her eyes — and her hand clutched the crystal stem so tightly her knuckles stood out.

  Do-Hyun watched her for a moment, then a tiny crack flickered across the surface of the glass. Frost spider-webbed outward, turning the condensation at the rim into delicate patterns of ice that seemed impossibly out of place inside the mansion.

  No one else reacted. Their mother scrolled through her tablet, eyes glazed over by whatever distraction had her full attention. Their father was buried in a financial report, unbothered by anything that didn't involve stocks or numbers.

  Seo-Rin flinched, quickly hiding her hand beneath the table, her expression tightening with fear. When she realized Do-Hyun was watching her, her eyes widened even more — and for the first time in days, he met her gaze.

  Do-Hyun gave no reaction. He simply lifted his coffee, took a slow sip, and set it back down as if nothing had happened.

  "I'm going out," he said, his voice calm but final.

  The table fell silent.

  "You are grounded," his father said without looking up. "The doctors said you need rest."

  "The doctors said I should avoid stress," Do-Hyun replied calmly, as though he were correcting a misunderstanding. "And staying in this house is the most stressful thing imaginable, so I'm going out."

  Tae-Soo let out a short laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Going out? For what? To shop for a coffin?"

  "Antiques," Do-Hyun said simply. "I need something to do."

  That was when his father's report came down on the table with a sharp slap, the sound cutting through the room.

  "No," Kang Dae-Ho said coldly. "The press is still watching the gates, and if you step outside and embarrass this family again—"

  "I won't," Do-Hyun interrupted without raising his voice. "I'll leave quietly. Back exit, no attention." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "But if I'm forced to stay here, I might end up answering questions about yesterday's so-called gas leak."

  The air shifted.

  For a long moment, Kang Dae-Ho only stared at him, as though trying to decide whether this was still the same useless son he'd spent years ignoring. The frail body hadn't changed, but something behind Do-Hyun's eyes had sharpened into something unfamiliar.

  Finally, his father spoke.

  "Driver Kim goes with you."

  Do-Hyun didn't argue. He only nodded once. "Understood."

  He rose from the table and walked out, slowing just slightly as he passed Seo-Rin, his voice dropping low enough that only she would hear.

  "Drink your water… before it freezes."

  Seo-Rin's breath caught, her fingers twitching around her spoon until it slipped from her grasp and clattered loudly onto the floor, but Do-Hyun didn't look back.

  Insadong was crowded despite the bitter cold, the narrow streets packed with tourists and locals wrapped in heavy coats, their laughter rising into the air in pale clouds as vendors shouted and steam curled from street food stalls. The city moved as if nothing had happened, as if yesterday's terror had already been filed away into the category of strange weather and overblown rumors.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Do-Hyun sat quietly in the back of a black sedan while Driver Kim watched him through the rearview mirror, his thick neck tense with impatience.

  "Where to, Young Master?"

  "The Golden Heron."

  Kim frowned. "That alley shop? It's full of junk."

  "Drive."

  The car stopped beside a narrow cobblestone passage, and Do-Hyun stepped out without hesitation, adjusting his hoodie against the cold.

  "Wait here," he said.

  Kim was already opening his door. "My orders are to stay close."

  Do-Hyun turned to face him. Something subtle slipped into his gaze, sharp enough that the air itself seemed to tighten.

  "Stay."

  Driver Kim froze, unease crawling up his spine, because for the briefest second the boy in front of him felt intimidating.

  After a moment, Kim swallowed hard and muttered, "…Fine. Thirty minutes."

  Do-Hyun gave no reply. He simply turned and disappeared into the alley.

  The noise of the street faded behind him, replaced by a deeper stillness, the kind that made the shadows feel older here, heavier, as though the city had forgotten this corner on purpose.

  He stopped before a dusty shop window crammed with rusted blades, cracked porcelain, and stacks of yellowing books, the sign above the door reading:

  The Golden Heron.

  To anyone else, it would have looked like a tourist trap waiting to happen.

  To Do-Hyun…

  It looked like the first real answer he'd seen since the world began to crack.

  [System Analysis: Mana Resonance Detected.]

  [Grade: F to C.]

  [Note: Mostly trash. But there is one shiny thing calling to you. Go get it, magpie.]

  Do-Hyun pushed the door open, and a small bell chimed overhead, thin and lonely in the silence.

  The shop was dim, crowded with dust and forgotten things. It smelled of old paper, incense, and time—like the air hadn't been replaced in decades. Behind the counter, an old man with thick glasses sat polishing a brass statue, his movements slow and practiced.

  Without looking up, he grunted, "We're closed."

  "I'm buying," Do-Hyun replied, already moving deeper inside.

  His eyes passed over a glass display case filled with ornate daggers, their polished handles screaming tourist bait.

  "Replicas," the old man muttered lazily. "Factory-made. Fifty thousand won each."

  Do-Hyun didn't even pause.

  "I'm not here for toys."

  He walked past the front displays, past the staged antiques, until he reached the back of the shop where the lighting grew weaker and the air felt heavier. A battered cardboard box sat half-hidden beneath a shelf, crudely labeled:

  SCRAP.

  Inside was a mess of rusted tools and broken metal, discarded and unwanted.

  Do-Hyun crouched, reaching in without hesitation.

  His fingers closed around a hilt wrapped in rotting leather.

  He drew it out slowly.

  The blade was black and jagged, eaten through with rust, the kind of thing that looked like it would snap the moment it met resistance.

  Worthless.

  At least, that's what it should have been.

  But the instant his skin touched the metal, the atmosphere shifted.

  The shadows in the corners of the shop seemed to pull inward, leaning toward him.

  [Item Identified.]

  [Name: The Executed's Shiv.]

  [Rank: D (Growth Type).]

  [History: Used by a headsman who enjoyed his job a little too much. It thirsts for blood.]

  [Current State: Dormant/Rusty.]

  Do-Hyun lifted the jagged blade. "How much for this scrap?"

  The old man squinted through his thick glasses, leaning back slightly as he studied the weapon. "That came from a construction dig. Sharp, but ugly. Ten thousand won."

  Do-Hyun didn't respond. He placed a black card—the Shin-Hwa Black Card—on the counter, its sleek surface reflecting the dim light of the shop.

  The man's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.

  "I'll give you five million," Do-Hyun said evenly, voice low but certain.

  The old man stammered. "W-what?"

  "Five million won," Do-Hyun repeated, tilting his gaze toward a black, oily stone on the shelf. "And throw in that whetstone. After today… you never saw me."

  The man looked between the card, the rusted blade, and Do-Hyun's calm, almost bored expression. Hesitation flickered, then vanished. "Deal," he said quickly, snatching the card before the young master could change his mind.

  Do-Hyun slid the whetstone into his hand and tucked the jagged blade into the inner pocket of his coat, feeling its cold weight against his ribs. Shadows seemed to stir in the corners of the shop, leaning just slightly toward him.

  [Transaction Complete.]

  [Weapon Acquired. It's ugly, Host. Just like your personality.]

  Do-Hyun stepped out of the shop, the jagged blade tucked into his coat. With it, his Vitality had risen, his strength sharpened, and a target already formed in his mind. He checked his watch—twenty minutes left.

  "Driver Kim is going to be bored," he murmured, eyes flicking down the alley.

  Something stirred in the shadows, drawing his attention. A Gate.

  It wasn't fully open, only a fracture in reality, leaking cold air and the faint scent of ozone. Hidden behind a dumpster, it was invisible to anyone who lacked his senses, yet to Do-Hyun, it pulsed like a heartbeat in the dark.

  [Dungeon Detected: 'The Rat's Nest'.]

  [Rank: E.]

  [Status: Unstable. Will break in 48 hours.]

  A faint smile curved Do-Hyun's lips.

  "Thursday night plans," he murmured, voice low enough for the shadows to hear.

  He turned and strode back to the car, the wind whipping around him, tossing scraps of paper and plastic into small spirals at his feet. The apocalypse moved slow, tedious, almost boring—but at least now, he had a knife.