[Note: This is a translated Korean web novel episode. It was translated using ChatGPT (GPT-4). Some phrases may sound unnatural in English.]

  Baekdu Mountain, Heaven Lake.

  —Beyond human dreams, where the roots of pain reach.

  A pristine sky scattered with white clouds. A serene lake surrounded by rugged terrain reflects both the sky and the earth. Shadows settle on the lake’s surface one by one, only to vanish.

  Near the lake, a dozen beings converse idly. They are called demons.

  Their sky-blue skin resembles the clear sky, as if it's a natural camouflage blending them into the surroundings.

  A short distance from the others sits one figure, alone.

  Unlike the other demons, his skin is dark. Even under the light, his form remains indistinct. His face, his body—hidden in shadows.

  He sits on the ground, deep in thought. Then suddenly, an image flashes through his mind.

  —A car has flipped.

  His body trembles. He stands up.

  As he walks toward the others, he mutters lowly, as if in a trance.

  "I have to go. A mother and daughter’s car has flipped. I saw it."

  The demons glance at his retreating figure and chuckle.

  "There he goes again."

  "What a weirdo."

  The sky darkens. Even the demons begin to fade.

  ——————————

  Kim Geuneul. Age 22. Born in 2050. February 1, 2072.

  "Aaaaagh!"

  A scream burst out.

  His breathing was ragged. No matter how much he inhaled, his body felt weighed down.

  Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, slick black hair clinging to his cheeks.

  His eyes were wide open, pupils trembling as he stared into the void.

  He had awakened, but it felt like he hadn’t left the dream.

  —Blue demons.

  —A vast lake.

  —And a flipped car.

  Geuneul rubbed his face with a trembling hand.

  Was that a premonition?

  Ever since coming to Neo Seoul from the orphanage, he had often dreamt such “premonitions.”

  He would foresee events involving people close to him. Sometimes it helped, other times it made things worse.

  At first, he thought it was a “special power,” something only he could do.

  But this dream was different.

  Blue demons.

  He had never dreamed of such beings before.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  But one phrase lingered in his mind.

  —The car with a mother and child has flipped.

  His heart dropped.

  Geuneul didn’t hesitate any longer.

  He opened his wardrobe and threw on a long padded coat.

  Slipped his phone into the left pocket and his wallet into the right.

  Half-laced his sneakers and shoved the door open.

  Then he ran.

  Out the door, down the stairs, nearly sliding.

  Cold wind whipped his face as he reached the roadside. His hair flew into his eyes.

  But he had no time to worry.

  —To the place from the dream.

  —To where Saebyul and her mother are.

  “I have to save them.”

  He ran along the street.

  His breath grew heavier, his lungs ached like they were on fire.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  Under the pitch-dark sky, streetlights stretched like dotted lines.

  In the distance, a small red car faintly appeared beneath one of those lights.

  Could it be…?

  Closer. Closer.

  But his legs were giving out.

  He gasped for air, muscles cramping.

  Yet the car grew larger in his sight.

  And then—

  The scene came into focus.

  —A flipped car.

  —Wheels spinning aimlessly in the air.

  —Shattered glass everywhere.

  —Blood slowly spreading on the road.

  Geuneul stopped in his tracks.

  The dream had become reality.

  **The World Turned Upside Down**

  His vision wavered.

  The flipped car, the spinning wheels, the shards of glass, the blood spreading on asphalt—everything was frozen in a strange stillness.

  But his body was not still.

  His heart pounded violently, his breath short.

  His fingertips tingled. The cold wind slashed his cheeks, though he barely noticed.

  He pulled out his phone, hands shaking, and dialed 911.

  "...There’s been an accident. The car… it's flipped. I see blood..."

  His voice cracked. Tears began to fall.

  Hot drops rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his chin. But they quickly cooled. As if freezing in the wind.

  Heat and cold coexisted.

  The wet warmth on his face, and the icy tears below—he felt torn between them.

  He bit his lip, forcing himself to stay upright.

  ‘I have to hold on. Until the ambulance gets here.’

  Deeply. Slowly.

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  He took a breath.

  But ragged air rushed into his lungs.

  Still gasping, he stepped closer to the overturned car.

  Was Saebyul… and her mom… still alive?

  In that moment, his mind went blank.

  In the distance, sirens approached.

  Red and blue lights flickered into view.

  Relief surged through him.

  His legs gave out as the tension snapped.

  His vision blurred.

  Darkness engulfed him.

  ——————————

  Again, a dream.

  But this one was different.

  A blue demon stood before him.

  Unlike before, it was pure terror itself.

  The surroundings were swallowed by thick darkness.

  Shadows writhed like waves, threatening to engulf him.

  The demon spoke.

  "I am a demon."

  Geuneul’s heart sank.

  Its voice was deep and cold, burrowing into his ears like he was the only one who could hear it.

  "I’ve lived for centuries. Sometimes in this form, sometimes another. I’ve made weapons and started wars, spread plagues and ruined cities, dealt drugs to rot bodies and minds, and altered food supplies so humans would devour each other in hunger and despair."

  The demon chuckled softly.

  "All that blood and fear—nourished me and others like me."

  It slowly raised its hand.

  Slid it across its chest and tore open its own body.

  —Rrrip.

  Cracks spread.

  A deep blue heart emerged from the darkness.

  The demon devoured it.

  And instantly, its body began to change.

  Its blue skin rippled, melting like water.

  A new form began to take shape beneath.

  The sky-blue hue deepened.

  Drop by drop, navy ink spread across its body.

  Its hair grew long.

  Soft strands of silver floated weightlessly.

  Its eyes transformed.

  Once clear and sky-like, its irises darkened into a deep abyss flecked with starlight.

  Darkness unfurled from its body like mist.

  Shadows without clear form wrapped around the demon in graceful waves.

  It looked at itself—then back at Geuneul.

  "I transform."

  The voice was both the same and entirely new.

  Soft, yet deep and hollow.

  Cold, yet strangely alluring.

  And Geuneul realized—

  This demon was both the same and not.

  ——————————

  **Hospital Room**

  Under dim fluorescent lights, Kim Geuneul slowly opened his eyes. His vision blurred, the sterile air of the hospital seeping into his lungs.

  Someone sat beside the bed. A young man in a suit, neatly trimmed hair. He looked Geuneul over without saying a word.

  ‘22 years old. Said to be training for the military… but this atmosphere...’

  He took his time analyzing.

  First impression: ‘Rough.’

  His features were sharp, intense—but more than that, there was something about his presence. Strong, but lonely. Determined, yet shadowed.

  ‘He looks sincere. And smart.’

  Geuneul raised a hand to wipe his forehead. His dazed eyes wandered, but his fingers moved with effort, like he was trying to compose himself.

  ‘Still, he’ll never get promoted.’

  The man thought silently. It was obvious. This guy couldn’t flatter. He probably couldn’t even tolerate corruption. Smart and diligent—but too honest for survival in an organization.

  “Ugh...”

  Geuneul slowly focused. The blurry white ceiling came into view. The air was heavy, unfamiliar. The bandages, the IV drip, the beeping monitors—he was clearly in a hospital.

  He began recalling. The ambulance. The screams. And…

  “You're awake.”

  A stranger’s voice.

  Geuneul turned his head. A man in a black suit stood by the window. Strong facial features, sharp eyes, a demeanor as composed as a well-organized document. His air of responsibility and firm gaze screamed public official or military.

  The man held a document and looked at Geuneul. Calmly, he spoke.

  “You wrote this, right?”

  Geuneul squinted at the paper. The printed sentence looked familiar.

  “A hymn not to the acceptance of pain, but to the creative potential of humans who transcend it.”

  Geuneul blinked. It was a post he wrote online—about how pain isn’t just to be avoided but can strengthen people and inspire art, faith, and science. He cited Silla-era religious art flourishing in historical suffering, and how humanity had always advanced by overcoming pain.

  He looked back at the man.

  “…Yeah, but why does that matter now?”

  His voice was hoarse. A strange question to ask someone who had just woken up in a hospital.

  The man calmly folded the paper.

  “I’m with an intelligence agency. I run a covert anti-terror unit.”

  Geuneul’s eyes sharpened. The man went on unfazed.

  “I want to recruit you.”

  “……”

  Geuneul studied his face. The man spoke without hesitation.

  “We investigated your actions that night. How you moved, what you prioritized, how your decisions changed the outcome. It wasn’t luck. You acted like you already knew the result. And your writing—that insight into pain and humanity? It wasn’t ordinary. Your thinking is different.”

  Geuneul tensed slightly.

  Just how much did this guy know?

  “You’re hiring me just because of that?”

  The man smiled faintly.

  “There’s more.”

  And in his mind, he added—

  —He has no family. No one to protect. No one would care what happens to him.

  His tone was relaxed, but his eyes were heavy.

  “You’ve survived hardship. But there are forces that mock that survival, that claim to end pain by denying the lives of those who endure. Don’t you want to stop them?”

  Silence filled the room.

  Outside, the sky darkened.

  Geuneul grabbed his head and slowly sat up.

  His vision blurred. His heart pounded irregularly. A high-pitched metallic noise rang in his ears, then faded.

  When the dizziness passed, he looked down at his clothes.

  Sky-blue hospital gown.

  Irritatingly clingy fabric.

  Its color reminded him of the demons’ pale skin in his dream.

  He scowled.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  Dry, low voice.

  The man pointed toward the window.

  Geuneul’s outfit hung by the bed. But—

  His face stiffened.

  The coat’s color had changed.

  A deep burgundy base, with faint black-red hues like a silent, post-curtain stage.

  He stared at it.

  But he’d never chosen that color.

  Since his mom bought it, he’d always kept it charcoal gray.

  ‘How…’

  He checked his watch.

  It couldn’t be changed without a password or retina scan. He wanted to confront the man, but another memory suffocated him.

  His mom.

  That child.

  The emotions surged.

  He bit his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat, and clenched his hand.

  The man watched his back.

  “It was just… too dull.”

  He spoke softly, awkwardly.

  Geuneul didn’t turn. Just stared silently out the window.

  The man waited. Letting him process his emotions.

  Night had fallen. Moonlight reflected off the hospital fountain.

  Geuneul finally spoke.

  “What happened to them?”

  The man exhaled.

  “…We couldn’t save them.”

  Those short words filled the room.

  Geuneul’s fingers trembled slightly. The man didn’t miss it.

  “When the rescue team arrived, it was too late. The doctors tried, but… it was beyond help.”

  Geuneul didn’t reply.

  He quietly pulled out the IV.

  Then stood up and dressed without a word.

  The man called out.

  “Wait.”

  Geuneul paused.

  “You hit your head when you passed out. You should rest. And… think about what I said.”

  The man realized how cruel his words were—to say such things to someone who had just lost his family.

  But he also knew—

  It had to be said.

  It was part of his job.

  Geuneul turned silently.

  Took a step toward the door.

  The man didn’t stop him.

  He knew Geuneul had no room for hesitation.

  And he was surprised—

  Geuneul moved like someone who had already known everything.

  ‘Why didn’t he ask why the accident happened?’

  Seo Jihan looked out the window, then back at the empty bed. The buildings crammed beyond the glass shimmered with city lights—Neo Seoul, one of East Asia’s most prosperous city-states. His home.

  He vowed to protect it.

  And for that, he needed this mysterious boy.

  Jihan examined his feelings—curiosity, duty, faint compassion. All combined into one thought: I must protect him. Whether it was for the mission or that haunting fragility within the boy, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Guess I’ll ask later.”

  He pulled out his ID.

  Quantum Information Analysis Agency — QIAA

  Seo Jihan. Born 2034 (age 38).

  Maintaining order and stability was his job. But he also feared a society where humans became just data points. In an age where science and algorithms ruled all, people grew colder.

  He knew better than anyone—

  Communication and empathy were what truly held society together.

  He looked out the window again. The city’s lights flickered endlessly in the dark.

  ——————————

  **One Hour Earlier**

  While Geuneul slept, Jihan had tried to send him money through his watch. But here, money couldn’t be sent without the recipient’s approval.

  He stared at the screen.

  [A request to receive $1,000 from Seo Jihan has arrived. Do you approve?]

  Though unconscious, the watch could read muscle twitches.

  Geuneul’s pale finger flinched.

  Then slowly, the “Approve” button was pressed.

  At that moment, Jihan felt something indescribable.

  A collapse that the subject doesn’t even realize is happening.

  He didn’t know if that approval was a survival instinct—or just reflex. But whatever it was, he had done what he could.

  Geuneul’s old watch was worn, scratched. The marks meant something—perhaps nothing to Jihan, but clearly it wasn’t a disposable item.

  Quietly, he embedded a tracking program.

  So he could always find him.

  But that wasn’t what concerned him most.

  He was afraid Geuneul might break.

  And he wondered how far he should intervene.

  He had always lived to uphold order. And if needed, he could be cold.

  But humans weren’t just variables.

  So, he chose—

  To act as a human.