Busan City, highway — late at night.
Darkness blanketed everything, deep and absolute. Only the pounding rain disturbed the silence. A fierce storm raged through the city. The road was barely visible beneath scattered street lamps, rainwater pooling in shallow patches along the highway.
Suddenly, a truck roared past, spraying water as it tore through the storm.
Inside the cab, a young man of about twenty-five sat behind the wheel. His jaw clenched tightly, eyes burning with frustration. Through gritted teeth, he muttered,"Damn it. I told them the weather would get worse, that I'd be late. But the boss still sent me out. Now look where I'm stuck — in this rain. How the hell am I supposed to get home?"
His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. A harsh breath escaped him — hufffff.
"I swear, this is my last delivery. I'm quitting after this."
His rage threatened to boil over, but he forced himself to breathe slowly. I can't lose it now. If I get too angry, I might end up in a serious accident.
Trying to calm down, he reached over and flicked on the radio. A voice crackled through the static.
"According to the weather department, Korea will face severe conditions over the next few days. There's a high chance of a powerful storm. Please avoid leaving your homes and stay safe. Some scientists suggest the storm may have unnatural origins. Reports from MASA hint at the discovery of unidentified aerial phenomena — possible signs of extraterrestrial activity. These findings are still under investigation."
Mihon's lips curled into a sneer. He slammed the radio off with a hard jab of his finger.
"MASA is a shit company," he spat.
The ID card hanging around his neck swung against his chest, catching the dim dashboard light.
Company: MASAEmployee Name: Mihon
Meanwhile, across the road…
From the shadows stepped an eighteen-year-old boy. Blood stained his school uniform. In one hand, he dragged a metal baseball bat; its tip scraped wet asphalt, leaving a faint trail of dark red behind.
Around his wrist, a blue band bore a strange symbol. Rain washed over him, but he seemed unaware — lost in thought as he moved forward, slow and steady, oblivious to the world.
Dark circles clung beneath his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days. His face was blank, numb — but in his eyes burned a quiet, relentless fire.
On a night this cold and stormy, anyone else would be shivering. Gun felt nothing. Like a living corpse, he stepped through the rain.
He drew a long, shaky breath.
I knew they'd treat me like this. So why did I keep going back to them?
He lifted his head, letting the cold rain wash over his face, slightly dulling the fire in his chest.
Should I go back? Apologize? Ask one more time to look for those people?
Doubt crept in.
Will they even forgive me? I assaulted so many of them… They're cops. A normal guy like me shouldn't have laid a finger on them. They might arrest me. Throw me in jail.
His eyes suddenly widened — and froze.
The sky above was perfectly clear. No clouds. No storm. Just endless stars, gleaming like polished glass.
Then how was it raining?
The question flashed through his mind and faded just as quickly. He stood still, letting the strange, silent calm settle over him.
Should I give up? Let them take me?
But memories returned.
A woman's smile.A boy his age, running beside him — laughing, playing, always together.
Then — darkness.
His expression hardened. He remembered what had happened to them.
His grip on the bat tightened until his knuckles whitened.
No. I can't fall apart. I won't. I need to find them. I need to make them pay.
Suddenly, a falling star streaked across the sky — but it burned a strange shade of blue. It traced a path from north to south, cutting through the night like a blade of light.
He froze, bewildered.
What the hell is happening to me today? First an empty sky with rain, now a blue shooting star? Am I going insane?
[Years Ago — Balcony with Mother]
He saw himself years ago, sitting on a balcony with his mother late at night, talking quietly and enjoying the breeze. Then, a shooting star passed.
His mother shook his arm excitedly.
"Look, look! There goes a falling star!" she said.
He glanced up lazily.
"Yeah, a shooting star," he replied. "So what?"
She lightly smacked his head.
"You don't know anything," she scolded. "If you see a shooting star and make a wish, it'll come true!"
He rolled his eyes.
"I don't believe in that kind of superstition."
His mother gave him a sharp look — the kind that made you obey.
"I'm telling you to wish. Don't argue with me."
Seeing her stern face, he folded his hands and closed his eyes, pretending to wish.
I'm happy with my life the way it is. I don't need anything else.
That simple wish, born of peace, had been enough back then.
But now —
Remembering that moment, anger welled up inside him.
That day, I didn't wish for anything. My life was fine then. I didn't need anything.
"But now..." he hissed through clenched teeth, "in just one week, my entire life fell apart."
His mother's words echoed again. This time, he closed his eyes tight and shouted up at the clear, starry sky.
"Last time, I didn't ask for anything!" he cried. "But now I'm asking. I need strength. Any kind of strength! My enemies are too powerful — I can't fight them like this!"
His voice cracked, breath trembling.
"Either give me the strength I need... or rewind time by one week. Let me stop everything before it goes wrong!"
Tears ran down his cheeks, though no one saw. The rain mingled with them, hiding every trace.
At last, his legs gave out. He sank to the ground, knees pressing into the soaked pavement. His eyes stared blankly at the road, his face heavy with despair — utterly hopeless.
But then, the memory of what happened to his mother cut through him like a blade.
His grip on the bat tightened, trembling.
No. I can't fall apart. I have to take my revenge.
Suddenly, veins along his arms pulsed faintly — glowing with a strange, bluish light beneath the skin, as if something inside had awakened.
Using the bat for support, he pushed to his feet. Rain poured down his face, mixing with tears.
Then —
A harsh beam of light exploded across him, blinding. He flinched, raising an arm to shield his eyes.
Through the gap between his fingers, he saw it:
A truck.
Barreling straight toward him.
Panic surged through his chest.
It's not stopping.
He turned and ran toward the roadside.
But the truck swerved, following him.
His heart dropped.
This isn't an accident. They're trying to hit me.
If the brakes were out, it would have kept going straight. But this truck chased him.
Close enough now, he could see the driver — a young man, mid-twenties, jaw clenched, eyes burning with fury.
Who the hell is that? Why is he coming after me?
[Two Minutes Earlier — Mihon in Truck]
Mihon was finally heading home after finishing his delivery. Outside, the storm lashed the windshield, and streetlights flickered dimly over the flooded road.
He leaned forward, squinting through the downpour.
Something moved.
A black shape flickered across his headlights — too solid for rain, too fast for fog.
"What the hell..." he muttered, reaching to shift gears.
The shadow thickened — twisting, alive.
Before he could blink, it surged toward him — not at the truck, but at him.
The dark smoke passed through the windshield and slammed into his chest like a bullet.
Mihon's body jerked violently. His head struck the wheel with a dull thud. For a few moments, the truck careened forward on its own, tires slicing through the flooded highway.
Then — movement.
Mihon straightened. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, but he showed no pain.
His eyes opened slowly — glowing with an eerie, unnatural blue light.
He rolled his neck. Bones cracked loudly in the silence.
Then he smiled. But it wasn't Mihon's smile. Too sharp. Too cruel.
Whatever had taken over now sat behind his eyes.
It gripped the steering wheel with steady hands.
Ahead, the headlights illuminated a lone boy kneeling in the middle of the road.
The thing inside Mihon didn't hesitate. Its foot slammed the accelerator. The truck roared forward.
Back to Gun —
He stood frozen, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
This is it. I'm really going to die.
He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to steady his racing heart.
No. I can't die like this. Not like this.
Digging deep, he threw himself to the side in one last desperate leap —
But it was no use.
The truck swerved with him, like it could read his mind, toying with him.
There was no escape.
The engine's monstrous roar drowned everything. A single meter separated him from death.
Then —
BOOM.
A deafening crack shattered the sky.
A blazing streak of blue fire split the darkness overhead — the same strange star from before — descending at terrifying speed.
It slammed into the Earth — somewhere far south, across the border in South Korea.
A second later, everything changed.
From the impact point, a wave of brilliant blue energy burst outward. Not fire. Not smoke. Something else — alive, humming with power.
The energy swelled into a vast barrier, rippling across the landscape. It expanded fast — too fast — spreading from city to mountains, mountains to borders.
In seconds, it crossed into North Korea. And it was coming straight toward them.
The possessed truck surged forward, inches from impact.
Then — collision.
The truck struck the edge of the blue field. The reaction was instant.
An explosion of light and sound erupted where they met. Shockwaves blasted down the road, flipping the truck violently through the air.
Gun stumbled back, nearly losing his footing, eyes wide in disbelief.
He had no idea what had just saved him.
But the blue field didn't stop.
It kept expanding, wrapping its luminous curtain around forests, cities, oceans — until finally, slowly, it curved around the entire Earth.
Gun stared, stunned, as the truck lay flipped over right in front of him.
He had fully accepted that he was going to die tonight.
But somehow, he was still breathing.
Slowly, he stood up, body trembling.
Just then, a strange mechanical voice echoed in his ears:
It is detected that host's emotions have dropped to negative 99%. One more percent, and the system will awaken.
Some strange numbers appeared in front of him, glitching and flickering:
╔════════════════════════════════════╗║ ▓▓▓▓ SYSTEM INITI▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ║║ ║║ Na▓e: G▓n ║║ Leve▉: 1 ║║ Gen: 2 ║║ Power: 7 ║║ HP: 8 ║║ Karma: 20 ║║ ║║ [ERROR: SOUL LINK UNSTABLE] ║║ HOST THRESHOLD: 99.3% ███▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ║║ [SYSTEM PENDING ACTIVATION...] ║╚════════════════════════════════════╝
The symbols glitched wildly. His scream tore from his throat as if someone were drilling straight through his skull.
"Aaaaaahhh! Aahhhhaaah! Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"
The agony felt endless, like he was being burned alive.
After what seemed like forever, he finally stopped screaming. The pain vanished as suddenly as it had come.
He lifted his hands off his head and stood up, chest heaving, breath ragged.
He froze, confusion surging through him.
What... are those strange numbers? System? Emotion? Am I hallucinating? Did my family drive me insane?
He looked up at the night sky and shouted, voice raw,
"You think you can kill me and send me off to some other world? Like a damn fantasy isekai with—"
He spat the next word like venom.
"—harem and a system?"
His voice rose even louder, a furious roar against the storm.
"No! I'll get my revenge — right here, in this world!"
And no one will stop me from taking it.
His heartbeat surged, pounding wildly, so hard it felt like it might give out at any moment. Sweat poured from his body, soaking him even as the cold night rain chilled him to the bone.
But this cold wasn't natural. It flowed through him in waves, shaking his entire body.
He closed his eyes and began to breathe heavily.
Huffff. Hufff.
He had spoken those words boldly — but truthfully, he was terrified. His body was still trembling.
When he'd fallen earlier, his hands had scraped harshly against the ground. Blood now trickled from the raw skin, mixing with the rain and dripping onto the pavement. The water below him turned red.
Still, he kept his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down.
Suddenly, a sound reached his ears.
Thhank.
The noise made him flinch. He quickly lowered his head and looked around, trying to find the source.
Then the sound came again.
Thank. Thank. Thank.
Hearing it over and over sent a chill through him. Fear rose in his chest like heat, burning despite the cold.
He glanced to his right.
There lay the overturned truck — the same one that had nearly killed him. Flames poured from its rear, and even in the rain, the fire showed no signs of dying.
Gun focused hard, and finally saw it.
The sound was coming from there.
He shouted, "Who's there?"
But no answer came.
Only that same voice, repeating —
Thank. Thank.
Gun's fear spiked.
He gripped his baseball bat tighter and ran his tongue over dry lips. Slowly, he raised the bat in front of him, both hands trembling.
Step by step, he began inching toward the truck.
His heartbeat spiked again.
Tears welled in his eyes — not from sadness, but raw terror.
When he reached the truck, he froze in shock.
It had flipped over completely. The front was smashed in, metal bent and broken. The rear was crumpled into pieces, still burning.
The front wheels had snapped off, collapsed under the frame, scattered across the road.
Gripping the bat tightly, he squinted and listened carefully, trying to locate the source of the sound.
Then it came again —
Thank.
He stepped forward cautiously, trying to see.
The fire's glow reflected off his soaked body, painting him in flickering orange and red. He could feel the heat now, pulsing against his skin.
Then he saw it —
The sound was coming from the driver's seat.
Fear surged through him. He instinctively stepped back.
"Who's there?" he shouted again.
His heartbeat raced wildly. As he turned, his foot caught on something, and he stumbled — falling hard to the ground.
Pain shot up from his tailbone.
"Aaahhh!" he cried out, rubbing the spot as he winced.
Still crouched, he looked forward —
And saw someone in the driver's seat.
The driver lay half-conscious, slumped against the seatbelt.
Blood poured from his arms, legs, and face.
His neck was tightly entangled in the belt, choking him. He couldn't breathe.
With one hand, he struggled to pull the belt away from his throat. With the other, he slammed it repeatedly against the truck door — trying desperately to get out.