Chapter Text
People are born with gems. Everyone knew it. The glittering crystals embedded in the flesh at birth, dormant and colorless, were whispered to be a map of one’s destiny, a mark of the one person who could complete them: a soulmate. The rules were simple, everyone said: one person, one soulmate, one gem. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But Kim Rok Soo had never been normal.
From the day he was born, two colorless gems shimmered faintly in the soft light of his cradle. One hovered over his heart, embedded like a single, tiny star, polished and smooth, waiting, waiting for a heartbeat that had yet to come. The other rested at the nape of his neck, a shard-shaped fragment that caught light at certain angles, fragile and delicate like a splintered sun. The villagers and nannies at the orphanage had marveled, whispered about it, but Rok Soo never understood. “Extraordinary,” they called it. “Cursed,” some muttered quietly.
As he grew, the duality of his birthmark made him feel simultaneously special and isolated. He had watched the other children’s gems glimmer in faint colors, marking them as chosen by someone, destined to meet, destined to love. But his remained empty, like two little fragments of glass untouched by fire or soul. By the age of thirty-six, they had yet to color, yet the world had not been kind enough to leave him in peace.
In his twenties, Rok Soo had entertained small, fragile hopes. Maybe Choi Jung Soo would be his. Or Lee Soo Hyuk. They were kind, reliable, bright in a world darkened by sorrow. He had spent evenings staring at their single, perfect gems, letting himself imagine—just for a heartbeat—that perhaps one day, his own would ignite alongside theirs. But the bitter truth was unavoidable. Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk had each other, their gems glowing faintly in mutual recognition, entwined in a bond Rok Soo could never share. And yet, they never treated him differently. They laughed at the same jokes, trained together, watched each other’s backs in the sudden chaos the world had become. They were his family in a world that had never been kind enough to grant him any other. That had to be enough.
Because life, cruel and unyielding, had never offered him more.
He had been alone since the deaths of his parents, abandoned and left under the oppressive hand of his uncle. Even when sent to the orphanage, friendship was a fleeting shadow; no one stayed long, no one lingered. Each bond frayed, each goodbye a quiet cut to the heart. And yet, Rok Soo endured. He learned how to survive. He learned the rhythm of pain and solitude, of fighting monsters that had emerged the day after his college entrance exam—a world suddenly split by chaos, human and inhuman alike. Humans had awoken to powers by then, abilities that defied the mundane, and monsters had seized the opportunity to rise. Cities fell, governments collapsed, alliances formed and shattered, and amid it all, Rok Soo fought quietly, unseen and unremarkable, a shadow among the few who remained.
Then, when the world had become a labyrinth of blood and ruin, the impossible happened.
His gems stirred.
At first, it was imperceptible—a faint pulse in the heart, a tingling at the nape—but the sensation grew, insistent and vivid, like fire spreading through veins. The shards, dormant for decades, shimmered and caught the light in ways impossible before. The rules whispered to every human child, the prophecy etched into their very skin, had evolved.
Fated pairs could do more than merely exist.
They could become each other’s weapons, forged not in steel or fire, but in the resonance of soul and trust. A soulmate could become your shield, your blade, your reach in a world of monsters. And they could merge, not just their weapons, but their very forms, creating something greater than the sum of their parts.
Rok Soo felt it first in his chest—the gem like a heartbeat of its own. Warmth spread, radiating outward like the light of a sun caught in crystal. He did not know who it was for yet, who had come to finally ignite these silent stars. All he knew was that the world had shifted, and he was no longer alone, even if he did not yet see the hand reaching toward him.
The air smelled of rain and smoke, the streets cracked and overgrown with weeds where monsters prowled. And yet, amid the chaos, there was a pulse—an almost imperceptible vibration in his very bones—and it was beautiful. Dangerous, yes. Terrifying. But beautiful.
Somewhere, out there, was the one who would turn his heart gem to a color, who would fuse with him in strength and instinct. Somewhere, was the one who would make the nape shard burn with life, and someone else who would awaken the onyx that had silently waited in him for decades.
And when they appeared, when the fated came together, he would discover what it meant to fight not just for survival—but for connection, for trust, for the impossible warmth of being seen.
The apocalypse had been merciless, cruel, and unyielding. But perhaps, at last, it had also been patient.
***
Life had a way of slamming shut doors and leaving him in the hallway, gasping for air. But nothing in his life compared to the sharp, cruel twist of fate that had ripped Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk—and, with them, the entire Team 1—out of his life. Not stolen in a subtle way, not quietly erased. No, life had thrown a grenade, smiled while it detonated, and left him to gather the pieces in silence.
He had been in his mid-twenties when it happened. The world was already unraveling around him—monsters spilling from nowhere, humans awakening to powers they had only dreamed about, cities crumbling, alliances forming and shattering like glass—but he had held on to that team. The one group of people who had been more family than anything else, the people who had laughed with him, fought with him, and tolerated his quiet, stubborn presence. He had counted on them. He had loved them. And they were gone.
After the dust settled, after the initial grief and rage had burned themselves out, Rok Soo had inherited the weight of leadership. Lee Soo Hyuk had been gone, and someone had to step into his shoes. Rok Soo had done it, of course. He had taken the title of Team Leader, stood in the hollow spaces where their voices used to be, and kept moving forward. Because what else could he do? The apocalypse didn’t care about grief. Monsters didn’t wait for mourning. Human politics and survival demanded action, whether he wanted to act or not.
And so he acted.
Wake up. He opened his eyes to the same gray ceiling, to the same broken sunlight filtering through cracks in the walls. Wake up and exist.
Eat. Something bland, something filling, something to keep the body alive even when the soul felt hollow. Sometimes it was canned food, sometimes scavenged scraps, sometimes the rare blessing of a ration from a surviving camp. Whatever it was, he ate. Mechanically. No taste. No joy. Just fuel.
Work. Hours stretched like endless roads. Clearing rubble, patrolling abandoned streets, fighting monsters, helping survivors, documenting the chaos. All for what? Survival, not triumph. Efficiency, not happiness. Sometimes he worked alongside people, sometimes alone. The streets whispered with monsters’ hunger and humans’ fear, and Rok Soo moved through both like a shadow that no one noticed, no one needed.
Home. A relative term. Four walls that could barely contain him, a bed that could barely comfort him. He lay in it for hours, staring at the ceiling, staring at nothing. Sometimes he imagined the faces of Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk—laughing, teasing, alive. Sometimes he imagined Team 1 assembled again, everyone whole. But those were always fantasies, cruel tricks of the mind, and they never lasted.
Eat. Again. Fuel for the body, nothing more. Sometimes he forgot the taste, sometimes he forgot why he bothered.
Sleep. Or the closest approximation to it. Dreams came sometimes, filled with fire and blood and faces he couldn’t reach. Other times, there was no dream at all—just nothing.
Then repeat. Every single day. The world could be crumbling, people could be dying, monsters could be tearing cities apart, and he would wake and do it all again. Wake. Eat. Work. Home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
It was a life stripped down to the bare mechanics of existence. Nothing human lingered in it anymore. Not hope. Not joy. Not even despair—it had been exhausted long ago. Only the act of moving, the rhythm of survival, remained.
He had lived like that for years, letting time pass like water through his hands. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. Until thirty-six. Thirty-six years of monotony, of enduring the endless, unchanging cycle. He had lived because he couldn’t die. Because, despite everything, his body refused to fail him. His soul refused to surrender.
And yet, living like that wasn’t really living at all. It was survival. A skeleton of existence. A shadow wandering through the ruins of a world that had taken everything from him.
He had thought he understood the meaning of loneliness. He had thought he had measured the weight of abandonment. But now, as he moved through another day of gray streets and crumbling buildings, he felt a flicker—small, almost imperceptible—in the depths of his chest. A pulse, faint but persistent. Something waiting. Something not yet gone. Something he had never imagined would come after thirty-six years of living like a ghost.
Because for the first time, the world didn’t just take from him.
It was starting to give back.
After decades of gray monotony, after thirty-six years of moving through a world that had taken everything from him, the smallest flicker of color—of possibility—finally reached Rok Soo. He didn’t notice it at first, not consciously. It began quietly, like a whisper brushing against the edges of his mind. He had learned to ignore whispers. He had learned to ignore hope. But this… this was different.
It came in the form of a novel, a gift from Kim Min Ah, his assistant Team Leader, the one person who had stubbornly refused to let him vanish into nothingness. She had insisted he take it, saying it would “give him something to live for,” though neither of them could have known how true that would become even if the woman had said it jokingly. The book was bound in soft, worn leather, the edges frayed from frequent handling, the cover embossed with a golden emblem that shimmered faintly in the dim light of his apartment. The title read: The Birth of a Hero.
He had scoffed at it at first. A novel? In the middle of a collapsing world, with monsters roaming freely and entire cities burning, a novel seemed almost laughable. Yet something compelled him to open it, to read the first page, then the next, and the next.
The story was simple, yet intoxicating.
It chronicled the life of a boy named Choi Han, an ordinary high school student on Earth, who had been transported to a different dimension—a world not unlike the fractured lands Rok Soo himself inhabited, though without the apocalypse ravaging it… yet. In this new realm, Choi Han witnessed the birth of countless heroes, each rising in defiance of darkness, each struggling to survive in a world that was vast, beautiful, and perilous.
But what caught Rok Soo’s attention wasn’t the battles or the magic—it was the gems.
Like every human of Earth, Choi Han was born with gems, and they were the same as Rok Soo’s. Not in form, not in placement, not in color—Earth’s gems were unique to its people—but in principle. The gem on Choi Han’s sternum was dormant, colorless, and waiting. The gem on his shoulder blade was a faintly shimmering yellow shard, belonging to someone named Alberu Crossman—someone who had never appeared in Choi Han’s life yet, but whose presence in the story was already permanent and unyielding.
Rok Soo had never seen such a vivid depiction of what he had lived with for decades. The novel treated the gems that had marked as anomaly, but Rok Soo supposed that made sense since that dimension doesn't know the importance of the gems embedded into their bodies, because they don't have it. Choi Han made sense, because he came from Earth. Alberu Crossman had it due to the fact that he was soulmates with Choi Han and this unknown person.
Rok Soo devoured the pages like a man gasping for air after decades underwater. Volume 5, the culmination of the story so far, consumed him in a single night. He couldn’t tear himself away. The massacre of Harris Village opened the volume with brutal clarity—Choi Han’s eyes reflected the horror of a village burned to cinders, the cries of innocents echoing across the fields, their lives erased in a heartbeat. Rok Soo’s chest ached, not just with empathy, but with recognition—he had lived through loss, through human cruelty and the indifference of a world collapsing under its own weight.
By the time he reached the chapters where Choi Han first met Alberu Crossman, somewhere between Volumes 2 and 3, his fingers had gone cold, his back stiff from hours spent crouched in the shadows of his bedroom. The meeting was small, almost incidental in the grand narrative, maybe it was due to the fact that the first time they met was after the Plaza Terror Incident, but the gravity of it hit Rok Soo harder than any monster had in the streets. There was a subtle recognition, a silent bond forming between the boy and the figure who would become his anchor. Rok Soo felt it in his chest, in the slow, uncertain pulse of the colorless gem he had carried for decades. That spark—the faint, persistent echo of connection—had never existed in his life until now.
He lingered over every hesitation of Choi Han, every flicker of doubt, every strategic choice that revealed not only intelligence but a heart capable of understanding others, of forging alliances, of seeing the worth in someone beyond survival. Every glance toward Alberu Crossman was a tiny flare of warmth in the story, a reminder that even in the most harrowing chaos, people could find one another.
By the middle of the night, the routine that had defined Rok Soo’s life—wake, eat, work, home, eat, sleep—had vanished entirely. Hours blurred, replaced by the rhythm of Choi Han’s journey, by the desperate search for the person responsible for the massacre, by the battles fought and won and lost, by the friendships built amid fear and fire. Rok Soo read beneath flickering lamplight in the ruined apartment, in corners where monsters rarely treaded—or perhaps where he dared not be caught without a weapon in hand. His mind merged with the narrative. He traced every movement, every decision, every spark of trust forming between Choi Han and Alberu, imagining the gem on Choi Han’s sternum as a mirror of his own heart gem, long dormant but now trembling with potential.
Volume 4 had been relentless with its battles and betrayals, alliances forged through fire and blood, and every page made Rok Soo’s pulse quicken. He felt the ghosts of Team 1, the faces of Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk, the weight of decisions he had made, the lives lost, the friendships that had ended in cruel finality. And yet… woven through all that horror and strategy was hope. Fragile, tentative, almost absurd—but hope nonetheless. Like a single candle flickering against the darkness.
Then came Volume 5. Rok Soo barely slept, barely breathed outside of the novel. He read every chapter, every battle, every heartbreak, every fleeting moment of triumph in one sitting. The narrative escalated, leaving nothing untouched. Choi Han’s search for the one who had destroyed Harris Village consumed the pages, but now the story expanded—political intrigue, the formation of alliances, the scheming and plotting of enemies, the subtle tensions between friends and allies. The Northern Alliance declared war on the Roan Kingdom, and the world of Choi Han teetered on the brink of chaos. Every scene of strategy, every loss, every clash of armies made Rok Soo’s chest tighten. It was a mirror of his own life, a reflection of his apocalypse, and yet… it was different. The characters did not simply survive—they fought, they hoped, they connected.
By the time he finished Volume 5, dawn had begun to pale the sky outside his window. Rok Soo’s hands trembled, not from exhaustion but from something else: anticipation. The story had left him on the precipice of war, just as his own world teetered on the edge of collapse. And in that precarious balance, he felt it—a pulse in his chest, faint, almost imperceptible, like a whisper of life that had been buried for decades. The gem over his heart and the one at his nape had stirred. Not fully awakened, not yet, but enough to make him aware that the world—cruel, indifferent, merciless—was finally beginning to give something back.
For the first time in thirty-six years, Rok Soo understood that his gems were not failures. They were not empty. They had not been cursed. They had been waiting. Waiting for someone who would see him, someone who would need him, someone he could protect and fight beside. And perhaps, just perhaps, waiting for him to finally act, to finally believe that he could still belong in a world that had taken everything.
The pages of the book lay open before him, the words glowing faintly in the dim morning light. The distant roars of monsters and the low hum of collapsing structures outside the apartment had faded into nothing. All that remained was the spark. One spark. Tiny. Fragile. But enough. Enough to ignite everything he had lost, everything he had endured, and everything he had yet to become.
He closed the book gently, letting the silence of the ruined city settle around him. And deep inside, the faint pulse of two colorless gems whispered against his ribs and nape: it was almost time.
***
Rok Soo could feel someone gently tapping his body. The rough hand made the man think of the hands of an exhausted parent. It was that warm. That was weird, he had long forgotten how that one felt.
“Young master, it is morning.”
But the voice was very profound. The man felt chills throughout his body and his eyes subconsciously opened. Rather than the bright sunlight coming in through the window to warm the man’s eyes, what he saw was an old man standing there with a satisfied expression.
“It is surprising to see you wake up after a single attempt.”
“Huh?”
“The master wishes to dine with the young master since it has been a while. It looks like it will be possible today.”
The man could see a mirror past the old man’s shoulder. Inside the mirror was a red-haired man who seemed to be confused looking back at him.
‘I guess that guy is me. Welp, what the fuck.’
“Young master Cale?”
The man turned toward the source of the worried voice to find the old man, who looked like a servant, looking toward him. But that concerned man was not the problem.
The man clearly heard it.
Young Master Cale. It was a familiar name. He slowly blurted out the name.
“Cale Henituse?”
The old servant was looking at him like he was looking at his own grandson.
“Yes. That is your name, young master. I’m guessing you are still a bit drunk.”
Listening to the concerned response of the old man, the man naturally thought about a name that was even more important than the name Cale Henituse.
“…Beacrox.”
“Are you talking about my son?”
“…Chef.”
“Yes. My son is the chef. Do you need him to make something for your hangover?”
The man felt his surroundings turn dark and he started to feel dizzy. He lowered his head and put it into his hand.
“Young master, are you still drunk? Should I call the doctor? Or will you wash right now?”
The man looked at the red hair that was falling in front of his face. It was a bright red color, much too different from his original black hair. And he actually liked his hair color, what a waste.
Cale Henituse. Beacrox. Beacrox’s dad, Ron.
They were the characters that appeared at the beginning of [The Birth of a Hero], the novel the man was reading before he fell asleep last night.
He jerked his head up and looked around. He could see the bedroom that was completely different from a typical Korean design. It made the man think about Europe. Every single thing in the room was extremely extravagant and luxurious. At least he would live comfortably? Hooray for the wealthy Henituse Family, he guessed.
“Young master?”
The man responded to Ron, the old man who was pretending to be concerned and worried. He snort inwardly as he remembers the novel, there was just no way this old man was attached to this trash when he so easily left him after getting beaten up.
“Cold water.”
“Excuse me?”
He needed something to clear his mind. He could see the face of Cale Henituse in the mirror behind old man Ron.
‘Still looks normal.’
‘I guess Cale hasn’t been beaten to a pulp by Choi Han just yet. ‘
His handsome face caught his attention.
The man had become Cale Henituse when he opened his eyes.
Cale Henituse. The trash who was beaten to a pulp by the main character in the beginning of [The Birth of a Hero]. That was who he was.
“Young master, I presume you will not be bathing in cold water. Are you asking for drinking water?”
Cale turned his gaze toward Ron. Ron may be pretending to be a benign old man, but he was actually hiding his true identity as a cruel and vicious individual.
He made the request to Ron.
“Please get me some drinking water.”
He needed to drink some cold water and clear my mind first.
“I will prepare it right away.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Ron flinched for a second and had an odd expression on his face, but Cale did not notice it.
***
Ron had to leave the bedroom as there was only warm water in the room. Once he was left alone, Cale got off the bed and headed to the bathroom. If he really was inside of the novel, he knew that there should be a large mirror inside.
As expected, the full body mirror was inside the bathroom. Cale Henituse, who had a lot of interest in his appearance and physique, had this mirror set up in here. Nobody else in the household had such a mirror.
The man in the mirror had red hair and a pretty fit body. It wouldn’t be wrong to say he had a body that would make any style look good.
“I really am Cale.”
The man in the mirror indeed was Cale Henituse from the novel. [The Birth of a Hero] was very descriptive about each of the character’s appearance. That was why the man had no choice but to agree that he had indeed turned into Cale Henituse.
Do people usually become calmer when they are surprised and shocked? Cale, no, Kim Rok Soo, calmly thought about the night before.
It was a typical day off. It had been a while since he had read an actual book instead of on his phone, so he went to the library to check out some books. He borrowed the entire series since he planned to read all day long.
The name of that book was, of course, [The Birth of a Hero]. He managed to finish the fifth volume before he fell asleep.
But when he woke up, everything had shifted. The body that now housed his consciousness was not his own, not the familiar vessel of Kim Rok Soo, orphan, survivor, ghost of a man who had endured decades of solitude. No—he had become Cale Henituse, the young, reckless individual mercilessly beaten by Choi Han in Volume 1 of The Birth of a Hero.
A strange calm settled over him, unnatural and almost alien. The initial shock passed with a mechanical efficiency, as though his mind had already rehearsed survival thousands of times before. After all, thirty-six years of enduring the apocalypse had taught him how to regulate panic, how to separate the chaos outside from the fragile order inside his skull.
He remembered the first volume—the story, the massacre, the cruelty. The Birth of a Hero. A novel about heroes rising in the Western and Eastern continents, about trials, triumphs, and growth, and yet it was more than a story. For someone like Rok Soo, it had become a guide, a blueprint of possibilities, a whisper of hope. The main character, a Korean student transported from Earth, had awakened to this strange new world, gaining a lifespan that stretched as long as a dragon’s, granting him near immortality.
“…This is bad?” Cale muttered under his breath, though the words barely registered, swallowed by the quiet hum of the unfamiliar room. He wasn’t used to furniture this ornate, ceilings this high, walls draped in rich tapestries that gleamed faintly under the soft morning light. Even the marble under his fingers, the expensive polish of the bathtub, matched the novel’s description almost perfectly.
He stepped into the tub, letting the warm water cradle his body. The scent of the bath—soap and oils, faint traces of herbs—was foreign yet grounding. He leaned back against the smooth marble, staring up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander.
“It’s not like there’s much I’ll miss,” he mumbled aloud, though no one was there to hear him. His life as Kim Rok Soo had been sparse in attachments. Parents lost to a car accident when he was young. Friends who had either perished in the apocalypse or drifted into other paths of survival. Love… he had never allowed himself to feel it. Survival had been enough. Endurance had been enough. And yet, now, in this body, he had the strange, faint hope that survival might mean something else.
Yes, he could not die. That had always been true. His life had been one of endless continuity, an unending cycle of wake, eat, work, survive, sleep, repeat. Pain and death had been abstract concepts—things to avoid, things to endure, but never to embrace. A pile of filth, a broken bone, the gnawing hunger from days without food—it had all been preferable to nothingness. Death, he had decided long ago, was intolerable.
But now… he had a new concern.
‘For that reason, I need to first make sure I don’t get beaten up.’
He lifted his gaze from the ceiling and examined the reflection in the bathtub’s water. The face was young, aristocratic, the sharp features of Cale Henituse, the so-called trash of Count Henituse’s family. The same figure who had caused a minor scandal in Volume 1, who had flailed with reckless abandon, flinging furniture and wine alike, whose anger at the poor taste of alcohol had led him to stab himself with a broken desk leg and gain the infamous scar on his side. That scar, Rok Soo remembered, was the marker of his encounter with Choi Han. It was the prelude to being beaten, humiliated, and reduced to a pulp.
And yet, the scar was missing.
Rok Soo’s mind raced, reconstructing the sequence of events. The main character had not met Cale yet. That much was certain. The gem on the sternum—his own gem—was still colorless. The nape shard, too, remained inert. Only Choi Han and Alberu in this world had fully awakened gems.
So why… why did this body bear the exact same colorless gems his old body had carried?
He flexed his fingers, staring down at the faint shimmer beneath his skin. Small, polished, faintly luminous even without a pulse of life from a soulmate. The star over the heart, the sun-shaped shard at the nape. They had never colored. They had never awakened. They had waited.
And now they were here. In this world. On this body.
Rok Soo’s mind spun, weaving connections, possibilities, risks. He could feel the tension in the room, the imperceptible hum of the estate around him, the faint echo of footsteps from servants or guards—or monsters. This was a world on the brink, and yet, he had been given a second chance. Not as Kim Rok Soo, the immortal shadow, survivor of the apocalypse, but as Cale Henituse, a young man caught between fate and narrative.
The question loomed larger than any fear of pain or death:
Would things go the way they did in the novel?
He could anticipate the steps. The tantrum, the wine, the broken desk leg, the meeting with Choi Han, the beating. All of it was mapped out, predictable. And yet… the gems told him another truth, one the novel had not yet dared to show. Something about this world, about the body, about the soul embedded in this skin, suggested that the story could diverge. That perhaps, armed with knowledge, with experience, with survival instinct honed in the apocalypse, he could shape the path ahead differently.
He sank deeper into the tub, letting the warmth seep into his bones. Thoughts of survival, of strategy, of the awakening of the gems, merged into one single, unshakable certainty: he would not be beaten into a pulp by Choi Han.
But then again… The mere implications of what it means brought a fragile hope into his heart. But being hardened by years squashed it down. There was just no way they were his soulmates.
***
When does a person get more angry?
Is it when they get hit by a strong straight or when they are hit five or six times by annoying jabs?
It is, of course, the latter.
Cale threw five jabs before he was hit. Which means, one jab should be okay.
“Are you heading out?”
“Yes.”
There were not many people left in the tea shop.
It was past 9pm. This was the time when there were more people in the bars than tea shops. Since this was the time that the people mining in the pits went to drink, the bar should be full of people.
“I look forward to your next visit, young master.”
Cale nodded his head at Billos’s statement.
“The tea was great.”
Cale shared his observations with Billos.
“And the book was good even though I only got through half of it. I especially liked the main character whose abilities are appreciated and the way he grows.”
In that instant, the corner of Billos’s eyebrows frowned for a moment before returning to normal. His eyes were cloudy as he observed Cale.
However, Cale did not notice, as he was trying to remember the contents of the book. He was too worried about Choi Han that he did not pay too much attention to it.
However, it was still fun to read while having this sense of urgency in his heart.
It might be an auto-setting from possessing the original Cale’s body, but Cale was able to understand the language of this world, and had no issues reading and enjoying the book. A smile formed on Cale’s face as he continued to speak to Billos, who was standing there with a blank expression on his face.
“Don’t let anyone else read that book,so that I can read it whenever I come.”
This truly was the immature son of the Count, who was trying to monopolize someone else’s property. Billos, the bastard son of a wealthy merchant guild might not like it, but what could he do? Cale was the son of the Count.
“Yes! I will reserve this book only for young master Cale!”
However, Billos’s response was different from what Cale expected. Billos smiled brightly as he urged Cale to come back soon. Why is this important side character smiling at this minor villain?
“Please come again soon. I will be waiting for you.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Cale didn’t want to go, but had to leave to go meet Choi Han. Ring. The bell rang once more and it suddenly felt like the tea shop became louder once Cale left.
However, it was even louder outside the tea shop than it was inside. Even though this territory was far from the capital, the fact that a lot of artists resided here and that they had a special product made it a popular location. These individuals, as well as the miners who were looking to relax after a long day in the mines, all were out late to drink.
Cale walked that street alone.
‘If you think about it, he really is a unique person.’
Normally in fantasies or martial arts novels, the trash of the family tend to hang out with the gangsters or bad crowds. They drink, fool around with women, and cause a ruckus on the streets or stores.
The funny thing was that Cale Henituse actually hated gangsters and scammers. In fact, he despised them.
‘He thought that they were all scumbags.’
The worst of all scumbags. It was better to at least be the citizens who worked hard even though there was no hopes for a better future.
That was why he never beat people up when he was drunk but had no issues throwing things at the gangsters he saw. Well, attempted to throw things, since his aim when drunk was terrible.
Maybe that was the reason. Or perhaps, consistency is the key along with the power of words that rumors had spread of how much of a trash he is when the original Cale Henituse was sort of a tsundere in Rok Soo's opinion.
‘Aigoo, young master, you’re here?”
The owner of the bar was extremely afraid of Cale. It was because of that one day when Cale broke pretty much everything around where he was sitting to drink. In fact, Cale was probably number one on the blacklist for Western City bars.
He did not respond to the owner’s greeting and just threw a gold coin at him.
“Bring a bottle of my usual. Oh, and roasted chicken breast. Don’t put salt on it.”
“Excuse me? Y, you don’t want to find a seat first?”
Cale started to frown. The owner immediately waved his hands and bowed his head.
“Immediately! I will bring it immediately!”
The owner was moving quickly, but it looked like he was smiling. It was because it looked like Cale was not planning on sitting down. Cale looked around the bar that became quiet once he walked in. Everyone was avoiding his gaze and turned their heads. It was like they were wondering why he had to choose this bar of all bars in the city. The gangsters and scammers in the bar were all extremely nervous right now.
“Tsk.”
The sound of Cale clicking his tongue could be heard through the silence in the bar.
“Young master, here is the bottle you requested.”
“Great.”
Cale grabbed the bottle and bag of chicken. It was the alcohol he drank often. It was probably the most expensive alcohol in this bar. He accepted the bottle with no regret and left the bar.
Cale immediately opened the bottle and drank about half of it as soon as he stepped out of the bar.
“Oh.”
The alcohol tasted pretty good. Since Cale had a high tolerance to alcohol, it did not affect him at all to drink half of the bottle at once. He just flushed easily, making people think he was a lightweight.
Cale quickly walked along with the bottle in his hand.
He walked back past the tea shop he stayed in all day until he saw the guards stiffen up after seeing him. Seeing them acting like that made him want to go out of the gate, but unfortunately, that was not his destination.
“Ah, I’m starting to get hot.”
Cale felt himself heating up as he continued to drink. He walked a bit further until he reached the city wall not too far away. The tall city wall that started at the gate seemed to defend against any potential intruders.
‘Well it depends on the person.’
Cale recalled the information from the book.
‘Approximately 100 steps from the city gate.’
That was the location where Choi Han jumped over the city wall. Cale clenched the bottle in his hand as he quickly ran toward the location. There were not many people on the streets because it was the residential area.
Cale took a deep breath once he arrived at the calculated location.
Exactly 100 steps away from the city gate. It was a corner of the residential area so there wasn’t any other light other than the torch the guards put on top of the wall, as well as the lights coming out of the residential windows. But as the distance gets smaller and smaller, the gem above his heart began to pulse, it was getting warmer. Like how Jung Soo and Team Leader had described it.
But that was enough light. Cale slowly approached his destination after letting his eyes adjust to the dark.
‘Just as I expected.’
He could see something curled up underneath the city wall. Actually, there were multiple things.
Delicate looking things that were shaking because of the cold. Cale continued to walk toward the location. He could hear the voices of the curled up lifeforms.
Meow Meeeeeow.
Two cats were meowing as they lay curled up underneath the city wall. Cale started to smile.
‘It’s right here.’
He found the right spot. The moment Choi Han jumps over the wall, a baby kitten is body slammed by the alpha cat of the neighborhood and gets sent tumbling to the city wall. Choi Han quickly twists his body to avoid landing on the kitten. This was a world where coincidences played a big role.
‘He really is a good guy.’
Choi Han twists his ankle after unexpectedly twisting his body to avoid hurting the kitten. He had run like crazy to reach Western City after killing tens of people for the first time and burying the corpses of the villagers. His body had reached its limit making him unable to land properly after making such a movement.
Meeeeow Meeeeeeow.
Cale gazed at the kitten that was curled up and shaking, as well as the other kitten that seemed to be its sibling licking the shaking kitten. He then turned his gaze.
He turned to look at one of the alleys that was close to where was standing. He could see him.
‘I found him.’
The man who was wincing in pain while looking like one of the homeless that lived in the slums. Cale could see the shaggy black hair and the old and burnt clothes.
According to the novel, Cale and Choi Han would meet tomorrow. Tonight was the night Cale got drunk and got the scar on his side. Things were already different than in the novel, even though it was just minor details.
Cale stood up as he had crouched down to look at the kittens. Choi Han must have felt his gaze from a few moments ago, as Choi Han slowly raised his head and his eyes focused on Cale through his shaggy black hair.
‘Damn it, I’m shaking.’
Cale could hear his heart going crazy.
Although it was too dark to see clearly, Choi Han’s eyes that Cale could see through his hair were extremely cold. Cale took a peek inside his clothes, specifically above his heart, the gem that had been colorless for thirty six years was gaining color.
Ha. Could this be a way for him to not get beaten up? The novel states that Choi Han was possessive and clingy towards Alberu, the only gem that colored for Choi Han.
Cale took a deep breath as he started to speak to Choi Han who was staring at him.
“You look like you are hungry.”
Tsk tsk. Cale clicked his tongue and took the chicken breast out of the bag. Then with an extremely gentle movement, Cale offered the roasted chicken breast not to Choi Han, but to the kittens.
“You poor things. Go ahead and eat it.”
Cale didn’t know that the kittens would be this small. He hope that they could still eat the chicken breast. Tsk. He clicked his tongue as he ripped the chicken breast into pieces so that the kittens could eat it better.
He was wondering what the hell he was doing crouching here feeding these kittens.
To be honest, Cale did not like cats. However, Choi Han treasured small animals.
Grrooooowl. Groooooowl.
The injured kitten must have understood Cale’s dislike for cats, as it showed its teeth and started to growl, but Cale started to pet the kitten’s silver fur as he looked into its golden eyes. The kitten must not have liked it, as it did its best to avoid Cale’s hand.
“You poor things. Eat this and get better soon.”
He didn’t even look at Choi Han when he said that, however, he was thinking that Choi Han was definitely looking at him.
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
He did not hear a response. However, Cale continued to speak. The guards would soon come to patrol this area, and he needed to make a move before Choi Han started to limp away to avoid the guards.
“Or a place to stay?”
Cale petted the growling silver furred kitten with golden eyes and pushed away the red kitten that was trying to attack him as he asked. The red kitten kept trying to hit Cale for some reason. It’s golden eyes, that matched its sibling’s eyes, shined brightly even in the darkness.
But Cale needed to focus on Choi Han.
“Are you hungry?”
There still was no response. Cale had expected this.
Choi Han was probably observing him right now, but he also probably wanted to rest.
Both his body and mind had reached their limit. In addition, he had received a huge shock just the other day. For someone like Choi Han who had lived on his own without any human contact other than the villagers of that small village, Western City was completely foreign to him. He may have lived for tens of years already, but he was still young.
“Are you not going to say anything?”
“…Why are you talking to me?”
Choi Han finally seemed to have decided that Cale was weak.
Cale was weak enough that he could easily kill him even though he was at his limits. That was why Choi Han felt that it would be okay to accept Cale’s goodwill even though he had no idea why Cale was being nice to him.
Cale stood up and walked toward Choi Han. The guards would soon come patrolling through this location.
“Hey.”
He could see Choi Han’s situation better once he got closer. He was a mess. However, maybe it was because he was the main character, but his eyes were clear. The black hair and black pupils that showed that Choi Han was Korean were actually quite nice to see. That was why Cale smiled as he casually spoke to Choi Han.
“Follow me. I’ll feed you.”
The best first impression was to be the one who provides delicious food.
***
As soon as Cale returned to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him with more care than usual.
The corridor outside the room was quiet. Servants had already retreated to their quarters for the night, and the manor itself had settled into that peculiar stillness only large estates possessed—when the walls seemed to breathe slowly and the distant footsteps of guards echoed faintly through the marble halls.
Cale didn’t linger.
He walked straight toward the bathroom.
The moment the door shut behind him, the faint composure he had maintained on the walk back cracked.
His hands moved quickly.
The expensive fabric of his shirt slipped over his head and fell carelessly onto the marble floor. He barely noticed it. His attention was already locked onto something else.
His chest.
More specifically—
The gem.
Cale stepped closer to the wide mirror mounted above the marble sink.
The candlelight flickered across polished stone and glass, illuminating the unfamiliar yet now undeniably his reflection.
Pale skin.
Sharp collarbones.
A body that had clearly lived an easier life than Kim Rok Soo’s had ever known.
But none of that mattered.
His eyes were glued to the left side of his chest.
Directly above his heart.
There—
Embedded just beneath the skin—
Was the gem.
Once colorless.
Once silent.
Once nothing more than a dormant shard that had followed him through thirty-six years of a ruined world.
Now—
It was black.
Not dull.
Not cloudy.
Not half-awakened.
It was a deep, polished onyx, like a fragment of night itself had been carved into a perfect gemstone and set into his body.
Cale slowly lifted his fingers.
“…Ha.”
His fingertip hovered just above the surface of his skin.
The gem pulsed.
Thump.
A faint warmth spread through his chest.
Not painful.
Not overwhelming.
Just… present.
Alive.
Cale’s brows slowly knit together.
“That fast?”
His voice echoed faintly in the bathroom.
He knew how the gem system worked.
He had lived with it his entire life on Earth.
Every human from Earth had one.
But he was born with two.
Two gems.
One above the heart.
One at the nape.
They were supposed to remain colorless until a soulmate appeared—until the resonance between two people reached a point where their gems acknowledged each other.
For most of his life, Kim Rok Soo thought that this was going to be impossible. He thought he was going to grow old and die without seeing any color to his gems.
Cale leaned both hands on the marble counter, staring at his reflection.
His heart was beating faster now.
Not from fear.
But from the sudden realization that something extremely inconvenient had just happened.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He exhaled slowly.
The gem pulsed again.
Thump.
Warm.
Alive.
Colored.
Onyx.
And there was only one person nearby who could have triggered it.
Choi Han.
The main character of The Birth of a Hero.
The boy who had slaughtered dozens of people tonight.
The boy who buried the villagers of Harris Village with his own hands.
The boy who had just limped into Western City with a twisted ankle and a broken heart.
The boy whose gem—
In the novel—
Belonged only to Alberu Crossman.
Cale closed his eyes.
“…This is bad.”
Very bad.
In the story, Choi Han’s shoulder gem was supposed to color for Alberu, the only gem on Choi Han that gained color.
Not him.
Not the trash of the Henituse family.
Not some side character who was meant to be beaten half to death in Volume 1.
Yet when Choi Han looked at him tonight—
When their eyes met in the dark alley—
When the kitten growled and Cale crouched there like an idiot feeding roasted chicken—
Something had happened.
Something that had never happened in the novel.
The resonance had triggered.
And the proof of it was currently glowing faintly beneath his skin.
Cale slowly straightened.
His gaze dropped again to the gem.
Onyx.
Black like polished stone.
Black like deep water at night.
Black like—
“…His hair.”
Cale rubbed his face with one hand.
This was ridiculous.
There were several problems with this situation.
Actually, there were many problems.
First—
If Choi Han’s gem had reacted to him instead of Alberu, then the entire future of the novel could collapse. It meant that Choi Han would insist to be by his side.
Second—
Choi Han was famously possessive of the person connected to his gem.
Extremely possessive.
The novel had made that very clear.
Once he bonded with Alberu, Choi Han treated him like the center of his world.
Protective.
Attached.
Relentlessly loyal.
If that same fixation turned toward him instead—
Cale groaned quietly.
“That’s a disaster.”
He had spent thirty-six years avoiding trouble.
Avoiding pain.
Avoiding death.
He did not want the attention of the most powerful swordsmaster on the continent.
Especially not one who could live as long as a dragon.
Cale’s gaze slowly lifted again to the mirror.
“…Wait.”
Something else bothered him.
Something important.
If his gem had colored—
Then Choi Han’s must have reacted too.
The connection went both ways.
Which meant—
Right now—
Somewhere in within the Henituse Manor—
A homeless-looking swordsmaster with a twisted ankle was probably staring at his own gem in confusion.
Or worse.
Recognition.
Cale imagined Choi Han looking down at the sudden change.
Imagined those cold black eyes narrowing.
Imagined the moment realization set in.
“…Ah.”
Cale covered his face with both hands.
“That’s even worse.”
Because Choi Han had seen his face.
And Choi Han had an absurdly good memory.
The main character would not forget the man who fed kittens under the city wall.
Nor the man whose presence had triggered the first change in his gem.
Cale exhaled slowly.
Think.
Think calmly.
Panicking wouldn’t help.
He had dealt with worse situations in the apocalypse.
Much worse.
Monsters.
Collapsing cities.
Entire teams dying.
Compared to that—
One slightly obsessed swordsman wasn’t the end of the world.
Probably.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Cale lowered his hands and looked again at the gem.
The onyx surface glimmered faintly under the candlelight.
Another pulse spread through his chest.
Warm.
Steady.
Unmistakably alive.
“…You really woke up now?”
Thirty-six years.
Thirty-six years of nothing.
And now it decided to activate the moment he possessed a minor villain’s body in a fantasy novel.
Cale clicked his tongue.
“Of course.”
Just his luck.
His gaze drifted briefly to the back of his neck in the mirror.
The second gem.
Still colorless.
The sun-shaped shard resting at the base of his nape remained dull and silent.
Only the heart gem had awakened.
Which meant that gem belonged to Alberu Crossman.
Fuck.
Cale stared at it for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
“…Fine.”
If things had already diverged from the novel, then he would adapt.
He always did.
Survival first.
Pain avoidance second.
Everything else came later.
And if befriending the main character early meant avoiding the beating he was supposed to receive tomorrow—
Then maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome.
Still…
Cale glanced once more at the dark gemstone over his heart.
“…You better behave.”
The gem pulsed again.
Warm.
Slow.
Almost amused.
And maybe this wasn't too bad, if Choi Han was extremely possessive of his soulmates. The deepest part of Kim Rok Soo who had longed for soulmates that would love him would finally settle, because it would finally know what its like to have a soulmate.
Cale had to will himself from blushing at that thought.