The café was quiet.
Not empty—but hushed. The kind of quiet that came from old wood and soft rain. Just a few patrons spaced out enough to let silence breathe. A distant coffee machine hissed like a sleeping animal. Muffled jazz trickled from hidden speakers. Faint. Warm. A contrast to the city outside, where the Coreborn Association's towers loomed like glass titans.
Taeha sat at a small corner table.
He was slouched forward, hoodie half-zipped, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his ceramic mug. The coffee inside had long gone cold, untouched.
He hadn't ordered food. He hadn't moved much in the last twenty minutes. Just stared. First at his phone. Then the window. Then nothing.
His shoulders twitched when the chair near him screeched.
A figure...his favorite one.
Tall. All-black attire, made somehow formal despite its casual pieces—coat, boots, shirt tucked into slacks, belt neat. No Coreborn uniform. No emblem. Just presence. The kind that shifted the room without trying.
Taeha's eyes widened. His chair scraped loudly as he stood.
"Hyung..."
Jaemin didn't say anything. He just looked at him. No smile. No scowl. Just a long, unreadable silence.
Taeha sat back down, fast.
Jaemin followed, pulling out the chair across from him and settling down in one smooth motion. He didn't take off his coat. Didn't lean back. He just rested both arms on the table, fingers interlaced. Still quiet.
"I wasn't sure if you'd come."
Taeha admitted, voice low, trying to sound light.
"I almost didn't."
Taeha winced, then nodded.
"Fair. I deserved that."
Jaemin raised an eyebrow.
Taeha tried to chuckle but ended up rubbing the back of his neck.
"I guess I kinda spammed your phone like a crazy ex."
"You are crazy. And barely an acquaintance."
Another wince.
"Ouch. You always this charming?"
Jaemin didn't answer. His gaze softened—but only slightly.
"You said one hour. You've used three minutes."
Taeha straightened.
"Okay, then. I'll get to the point."
He paused. Then looked down. His fingers clenched around the mug now.
"After the Rift... I had some scans done. Full resonance sync. Core diagnostics. Just the standard recovery procedure."
Jaemin didn't blink.
Taeha's next words were quieter.
"My Core is unstable."
Silence.
Jaemin tilted his head slightly.
"Unstable how?"
Taeha shook his head.
"Not corrupted. Not infected. Just... wrong. It's cracked. From the inside. They said it might've happened during the awakening. Or before. No one knows. But if it flares wrong again..."
He exhaled.
"They gave me maybe a few months. Maybe less if I use too much aura."
A breath passed between them.
"You don't look scared."
Jaemin noted.
"I am. But also—I don't know. I feel more awake than I ever have."
He looked up. Directly at Jaemin now.
"I'm not asking for pity, hyung. And I'm not asking you to fix it. I just... when I thought I was gonna die in that Rift, I kept thinking—damn, if I had more time, I'd follow that guy."
Jaemin blinked and raised a clueless finger against himself.
"Me?"
"Yeah. You. I thought I was hallucinating or something, the way you fought. But then I saw you after. Walking like you'd carry the sky if you had to. And I thought, 'If I get out of here... I'm not wasting another day following cowards.'"
Taeha's voice had steadied now. Firmer. Not desperate. Just honest.
"I want to serve under you."
Jaemin's eyes narrowed.
Taeha raised a hand before he could protest.
"Not like a knight or something lame. I mean, if you ever build something—a Covenant, a team, a mission—I want in. Even if it's just carrying gear. Even if I only have a few months left. I want to fight beside someone I believe in."
Silence again.
The café's jazz looped into a slower track.
Jaemin leaned back finally, eyes flicking to the window, then back to Taeha.
"You're a rich heir from some big-name family, right?"
Taeha blinked.
"Yeah."
"Then go home. Live easy. Use your Core once a week on something safe. Don't die like a fool."
"I'd rather die beside someone who knows why they're fighting. Than live being pampered by people who don't give a damn about anything but appearances."
Jaemin didn't answer immediately.
Jaemin then sighed.
He reached into his coat pocket. Pulled out a coin. Flicked it between two fingers once. Then slid it across the table.
Taeha looked down.
It was a Coreborn Association access token—plain black, marked with Jaemin's sigil. Rare. Not for decoration. These tokens were high-level identification, used by ranked Coreborn to grant temporary clearance into restricted zones: war rooms, training sectors, Rift briefings. Some used them to sponsor rookies or mark unofficial protégés. Jaemin giving one to Taeha wasn't just an act of pity—it was a door. A quiet test.
"That gets you inside certain places. Don't flash it like a fanboy. If I see you again, it'll be because you held your own. Not because I felt sorry for you."
Taeha stared at it. Then back at him.
"So... does that mean—?"
"I didn't say yes."
Jaemin stood.
Taeha's grin broke through despite himself.
"But you didn't say no either."
Jaemin paused by the chair, then glanced over his shoulder.
"You've got fifty-two minutes left. Use them wisely."
Then he walked out.
And Taeha, alone again in the café, looked down at the coin.
And smiled like a man given a second life.
As Jaemin stepped out into the rain-damp sidewalk, he didn't look back.
The café door thudded shut behind him—but only for a second.
"Hyung!"
Jaemin's shoulders stiffened.
He kept walking.
Footsteps scrambled behind him, fast and clumsy.
"Hyung! Wait!"
He stopped halfway down the block.
The city around them was wrapped in mist. Traffic blurred in the distance. Rain traced gentle rivulets down the glass walls of the towers nearby, and the scent of coffee was already fading behind them.
Taeha caught up, slightly out of breath, one hand lifting to block the drizzle, the other gripping something tightly—probably his phone, maybe his nerves.
Jaemin didn't turn around.
A faint smile flickered on his face, invisible to anyone but the dark sky above.
He wiped it off the moment Taeha got close.
"What now?"
Taeha bounced slightly on his feet, not from energy, but pure adrenaline. Hope. Something raw and too alive.
"I've been thinking—"
Taeha began, grinning like a madman.
"That's already dangerous."
"Let's make a Covenant."
Jaemin flinched.
"No."
"Hyung—"
"No."
"Just listen—"
"No!"
Jaemin whipped around, finally facing him. Rain tapped lightly on his coat's shoulders.
"Do you get high off caffeine or something? Do you hear yourself right now?"
Taeha didn't back off. If anything, he looked...genuinely excited.
"I know what I'm saying. I'm not joking. Don't worry about the funds—at all. Consider it handled. Fully. I've got it covered. You just have to say yes."
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"C'mon, boss, please." Taeha grinned. "It'll be easier for us to access Rifts like this."
That one hit harder than Jaemin expected.
He paused.
Not because Taeha was wrong. But because he was right in too many ways. A registered Covenant meant Rift rights. Territory claims. Official ranking opportunities. Equipment access. Association leeway. It meant...power, without asking permission from anyone else.
And Taeha was offering that. For him. A guy with no reputation, no house, no legacy—only a trail of rumors and a near-death body count.
"Do you even understand what you're saying?"
Jaemin said finally, voice low.
"You're talking about billions. Like 222.22 billion won. Just flowing like water out of your hand."
Taeha blinked at him.
Then tilted his head.
"So?"
Jaemin stared.
Taeha shrugged, as if the problem was mathematical, not philosophical.
"It's just money."
Jaemin's jaw tightened.
He had grown up counting loose change to buy rice. Saved for months just to afford secondhand aura bands that barely functioned. Watched his mother fade because they couldn't afford top-tier core therapy. And now—
"It's just money," Taeha repeated, completely sincere.
Jaemin didn't even know what to say.
The silence stretched. Rain whispered down around them like the world holding its breath.
Jaemin finally sighed.
"Leave the funds for now."
Taeha's expression flickered.
"Get the basic requirements done."
Jaemin added.
"Licenses. Application forms. Charter. I'm not signing anything yet, but... if you're serious, show me."
Taeha's eyes lit up.
Like a man who'd been handed fire in the dark.
He didn't say thank you. He just nodded—once—hard, like someone sealing a vow.
Then he jumped.
Literally jumped once, half-spinning on the sidewalk like a dork suppressing a full victory yell.
Jaemin muttered something under his breath that sounded like "idiot."
But his lips twitched.
Just once.
Jaemin and Taeha parted ways without much fanfare. There was one small detail Taeha never asked about, and Jaemin never mentioned. Jaemin was waiting for the right time...for Taeha to prove he meant what he said before moving forward.
Jaemin then reaches home, Nari was upside down on the sofa with her eye closed, and a book in hand.
"Whats up bat"
Jaemin says as he keeps his jacket aside and removes his shoes.
"Can you not bother me oppa? im trying to memorise formulas here."
Nari says side eyeing him...
"Anyways...where did you even go?"
Nari asks.
"Somewhere important...Keep reading your textbook."
Jaemin says, lowkey regretting for disturbing her now that she is getting nosey
****
The night air was cool as Jaemin leaned on the balcony railing, staring out at the faint city lights below.
The Warden's voice echoed softly in his mind.
"A lot is running through your head tonight."
Jaemin exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah. Feels like my mind's about to burst. You don't usually talk. Why now?"
"I wait for moments like this. When you're calm enough to listen. When the noise of the world quiets."
Jaemin shifted, looking out over the city again.
"Tell me about you. Who were you before... all this?"
The Warden's voice grew distant, tinged with sadness.
"I was a soldier. A long time ago, before Convenants even existed. Before the Rift tore through our world."
Jaemin's eyebrows knitted.
"What kind of war were you fighting?"
"A war for survival. Between those who sought power and those who tried to protect what little peace remained. I fought to defend that peace. But in the end, I was betrayed. Left to die in the darkness."
There was a heavy pause.
Jaemin swallowed hard.
"When did you die?"
"Long ago. But death was not the end for me. My soul lingered, caught between winds of the Tempest, until I found you."
Jaemin's eyes narrowed.
"Why me?"
"Because there's something unique about you—something that sets you apart. My role is to guide you, to help you prepare for what lies ahead."
Jaemin let out a bitter laugh.
"Guide me? Sounds like you want to be some kind of guardian angel."
The Warden's tone was patient.
"Call me what you want. I'm here because you asked for strength and answers. And because the path you walk is darker than you realize."
Jaemin was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know if I want this burden."
"It's already yours, whether you accept it or not."
Jaemin's shoulders tightened.
"So what now? You just watch and wait?"
"I wait for you to accept who you are—not just your power, but everything you must become. When that time comes, I won't have to wait anymore."
Jaemin looked up at the stars, their cold light reflecting his doubts.
"I don't know if I can do it."
"You can. Because you have to. The world depends on it."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the night breeze.
Jaemin closed his eyes briefly.
"Alright. Tell me everything. No more waiting."
The Warden's voice softened.
"As you wish. Your journey is just beginning."
****
The room was minimal—bed, bookshelf, workout mat, and a single chair near the window. Jaemin sat in the chair, elbows on knees, the sound of distant thunder rolling in the background.
"You're quiet again."
He murmured.
A familiar voice answered in his mind.
"You've had enough noise for one night."
Jaemin leaned back, eyes half-lidded.
"I want to ask about the Core."
A beat of silence.
"You want to know what you carry."
Jaemin nodded.
"I've felt it inside me. Since the Rift. It's different. You know what it is."
"I do. Partially."
Jaemin raised an eyebrow.
"Partially?"
"The Core you awakened… it's unlike any I've felt before. It resonates with all known aspects—velocity, precision, flux, bastion, auxiliary—but doesn't align with any single one. It's... multifaceted. Dormant, yet immense."
He frowned.
"So it's broken?"
"No. It's complete. But its nature is unclear. Even to me."
Jaemin narrowed his eyes, tone skeptical.
"You're supposed to be my guide. Yet you don't even know what I have?"
"I know its capabilities."
the Warden said calmly.
"You can adapt in ways others cannot. Switch styles mid-fight. Blend aura flows with minimal loss. That alone would make you formidable."
Jaemin exhaled, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Then what makes it different?"
"It feels alive, Lord. Like it's waiting. Not just for your growth—but for something to awaken."
Jaemin stayed quiet.
"I've seen too many warriors."
The Warden added.
"None of their Cores felt like yours. It's as if yours remembers something the rest of the world has forgotten."
The room went silent except for the hum of city rain.
Jaemin shook his head slowly.
"I'll figure it out later."
He then summoned both his daggers.
Twin blades, curved like fangs. Their surface shimmered with a faint silver glow, moonlight trapped in motion.
He raised them to eye level.
"You know these?"
"Yes."
The Warden replied, his voice quicker now.
"Binary Stars. That's what they're called."
Jaemin blinked.
"So that's not a name I saw randomly saw."
"No. Those daggers were forged from the collapsed energy of twin stars caught in orbit. Their aura signature carries a unique trait—'Piercing Radiance of a Star.' They ignore most armor-based defenses, burning through not just the body, but the core pathways themselves. Only a handful of beings have ever wielded them."
Jaemin turned the daggers slightly, watching the faint pulses of light shift across the blade.
"And now I have them."
"You were chosen. Whether by fate or chance... I cannot say. But yes. Now you wield them."
Jaemin stood slowly, moving toward the window. He stared out at the cityscape—bright lights below, storm clouds above.
"So, you can guide me."
"To a point."
The Warden said.
"But your path is yours to walk. I will warn, teach, and protect when needed—but what you become… that choice will always be yours."
Jaemin let go of his daggers, the light dimming as they disappeared into air.
"Then guide me well."
He muttered.
Jaemin stared at the window, voice low but steady.
"So… this power inside me. What exactly is it? What can I do with the Core of Tempest?"
The Warden didn't hesitate.
"You hold dominion over the storm itself."
"Storm?"
Jaemin echoed.
"The wind bends to your will."
The Warden said calmly.
"The skies answer your call."
Jaemin frowned.
"Wind. Like movement?"
"More than that."
The Warden replied.
"You can become the wind. Shift into stormflow—pure velocity. Travel faster than the eye can follow. Strike from directions no enemy can defend against."
Jaemin's brow furrowed.
"And thunder?"
"You command it."
The Warden said.
"You can shape thunder into weapons. Hurl it like javelins. Channel the sound through your blades, and it will rip through defenses like paper. Your enemies will hear their death before they see it."
Jaemin swallowed.
"Rain?"
"A veil. One you control. When it falls, your senses sharpen beyond human limits. You'll move unseen. If you choose... every drop can become a weapon. Thousands of piercing points—all aimed by you."
Jaemin's voice was quiet.
"That's… insane."
"You haven't heard the half of it."
The Warden's tone darkened, reverent.
"You can summon stormfronts—local or massive. Create low-pressure fields that flatten the weak. Pull the oxygen from the air. Break sound barriers with a step. Even twist gravity, if the pressure builds high enough."
Jaemin stared at him, stunned.
"You are not a wielder of wind."
The Warden said.
"You are the eye of the storm. Everything around you? Is debris."