She had accepted it.
Seo-Yeon didn't slow down, didn't glance back. Just a quiet exhale as she passed, barely loud enough to hear.
"I'll return on my own," she murmured, her voice almost carried away by the silence. "So you don't have to bother me."
It wasn't meant for Aryl. It wasn't meant for them.
It was for herself.
The shorter agent nodded slightly, like that was all the confirmation he needed. Neither of them called after her.
And just like that, she was gone—swallowed by the turn of the corridor, her steps fading into the noise of the lunch bell.
The taller man turned his attention back to Aryl.
"You too," he said. "Let's go."
Aryl raised a brow. "Going where?"
"Somewhere quiet."
They didn't shove him. No threats, no force.
But somehow, walking between them down the hallway felt heavier than any of the fights he'd had so far.
Outside, the school courtyard looked frozen under the midday sun. A few students lingered near the doors, their conversations muted as they watched the scene unfold.
A black sedan waited at the curb. Sleek, civilian. Official without looking official.
Aryl slid into the backseat without a word.
The drive was quiet at first. No radio. No small talk. Just the low hum of tires on asphalt and the distant echo of city life.
"You flared at that store in Yongsan," the tall one finally said. "We tracked residual awakened energy to the scene. Thought it might've been a rogue. Then this morning, we got another spike. Stronger. Controlled."
Aryl didn't bother replying.
"We're with Creedshift," the shorter one added. "Korea's branch. You're supposed to report when you awaken. Register, undergo evaluation, receive training."
Aryl leaned his head back against the seat. "Didn't ask for any of that."
"Nobody does. But now that power's out, it doesn't matter what you asked for."
"I have a sister" he said. "She depends on me."
"You can earn for both of you through the academy," the man replied.
"You'll be trained, paid, and protected. And in exchange, you work under Creedshift authority."
Aryl went still.
The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncertain.
He was just weighing the cost.
Eventually, he nodded once.
"Fine. I'll enroll. But don't expect me to play along."
The agent beside him offered the faintest smirk.
"We don't want obedient," he said. "We want capable."
"Name?" the other asked.
Aryl looked out the window for a beat, then turned back.
"Aryl Rehn Vasel."
A pause.
"That's… not Korean."
Aryl met his gaze.
"No. It's not."
There was a brief pause, then the shorter one glanced at him sideways.
"Your parents foreigners?"
Aryl's eyes shifted slightly. "Didn't take my father's—Kim. I took my mother's. Vasel."
The man nodded slowly. "And Rehn?"
Aryl looked away, voice flat. "I don't know."
Aryl didn't speak after that.
The name question hung in the air for a moment, then dissolved into the hum of the engine. Outside, the city passed by—glass buildings, flickering signs, people moving through their routines like nothing was shifting underneath them.
Inside the car, silence returned.
Aryl leaned back against the seat, gaze steady on the reflection in the window.
These two… they weren't average suits. The taller one, rigid posture, clean shoes—military or something close. Movements too crisp to be lazy. Eyes too sharp to be bored. The shorter one, calm but alert—like a blade not drawn but never sheathed.
They didn't flaunt their strength.
The name question hung in the air for a moment, then dissolved into the hum of the engine. Outside, the city passed by—glass buildings, flickering signs, people moving through their routines like nothing was shifting underneath them.
Inside the car, silence returned.
Aryl leaned back against the seat, gaze steady on the reflection in the window.
These two… they weren't average suits. The taller one, rigid posture, clean shoes—military or something close. Movements too crisp to be lazy. Eyes too sharp to be bored. The shorter one, calm but alert—like a blade not drawn but never sheathed.
They didn't flaunt their strength.
If they'd wanted to drag me off back at school… they could've. It wouldn't have been a fight. It would've been over before i blinked.
He closed his eyes.
Let the weight of everything settle for a moment.
Awakened. Creedshift. Power. Tasks. Money. Asha.
The words floated in his head, rearranging themselves like puzzle pieces he hadn't finished flipping over.
What mattered now was simple.
He needed strength. He needed control. He needed to make sure she was safe.
If this academy gave him even a fraction more of that—he'd go.
He'd play their game.
But only on his terms.
The car turned onto a long, winding path lined with ironwood trees—each one carefully trimmed, as if even nature had to pass inspection here. At the far end, the academy rose like a city unto itself. Not just a school. A compound. A fortress. A temple to strength.
Creedshift Academy stood distant from the main branch, yet it was massive. Bigger than he'd expected. Bigger than anything he'd imagined.
Grounds stretched out in every direction—fields for combat, domes for simulations, barracks, training towers, dormitories, even what looked like a private tram system weaving between structures. Every inch of it screamed precision. Wealth. Power.
As the car slowed along the main stretch, Aryl caught sight of the students.
Roaming between buildings, moving in groups or pairs. Their uniforms were sharp, spotless. Their skin healthy, complexions smooth. Like they'd been raised on full meals, filtered water, and clean air. Their shoes looked untouched by dirt.
They didn't just look rich. They looked untouched.
Like nothing had ever tried to kill them.
Aryl leaned his head slightly against the window.
It was envy. Not exactly. Just a reminder. Of how far from their world he'd come.
They'd been raised to arrive here.
He'd crawled in through the cracks.
The car rolled to a stop along the main courtyard. The moment the door opened, clean air rushed in—filtered, faintly floral, like the kind pumped through five-star hotels. The light wasn't harsh. It was warm. Soft. Almost welcoming.
Aryl stepped out.
Shoes met polished blackstone. Smooth. Not a speck of dust. Even the wind here felt curated.
He glanced around—students moved between buildings, chatting in pairs, groups. Some laughing. Some too serious for their own good. Uniforms crisp. Hair neatly styled. Their skin looked clearer. Healthier. Like they'd grown up under better roofs, on fuller plates.
Aryl tugged his sleeves down out of habit.
He didn't hate them for it.But part of him... felt it. That distance. That quiet sting in the chest.
He didn't belong here. Not really.
He walked forward anyway.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a few stares. Nothing overt. Just subtle shifts in posture. Quick glances. A new face in worn shoes with a stare too sharp to be fresh.
He ignored them.
But not all of them were the same.
Under a silverleaf tree sat a girl alone, upright and still. Her gaze wasn't on anyone . bit like him tucked away.
Further off, a tall boy ran laps around a courtyard fountain, ankle and wrist weights clinking softly with each stride. Every so often, a student would glance his way
Aryl noticed all of it. Logged it.
Some of them had seen things. Some were just good at pretending.
He looked down at his hands. Slight tremble from the ride.
They've lived softer lives.But not all of them are soft.
Still, there was that nagging ache again. Not fear. Just... smallness. Like being dropped into someone else's dream and told to make it yours.
He shook it off. Quietly. No expression.
The building marked New Registrant Intake stood ahead—stone-walled, older-looking than the rest of the glass-and-metal city around it.
Without waiting for the men, Aryl walked toward it.
And even with his pulse steady and his face unreadable, the thought stayed with him:
I'm not from this world.But I'll survive in it.
Inside the registration building, the air turned clinical—cool walls, humming lights, footsteps softened by marble tiles. Aryl moved from station to station, answering nothing, complying with everything. It was smoother that way.
He reached the final booth.
A reinforced scanner sat built into the desk—the kind they used to measure awakened signatures. The woman behind it didn't look up.
"Place your hand."
He did.
A soft whirring sound. Blue lights swept under his skin.
Then—nothing.
No reading. No aura. No flux spikes. Not even a flicker of dormant mana.
The machine beeped once, confused. The woman frowned.
"...That can't be right." She tapped the side, refreshed the scan. "Again."
Same result.
The screen lit up with red text:
[NO MANA DETECTED]Subject is non-awakened.
Aryl blinked once.Inside, something sank.
Because he knew what he was. What he'd done.
But the machine saw none of it.
The woman glanced at him, suddenly wary. "You were referred here from Creedshift HQ… but you're showing zero affinity."
A pause.
She hit a key. Somewhere in the back, a phone rang.
Aryl's gaze dropped to the screen, still flashing that red alert.
Behind him, footsteps approached. Heavy. Intentional.
A door opened at the end of the hallway.
And someone said—calmly, but with an edge:
"Bring him in."