The noodles were already halfway gone when his mother finally checked the clock.
She blinked at it, then her eyes widened.
"Aigoo! I'm going to be late!" she gasped, pushing back her chair with a loud scrape.
Jae-Hyun blinked, chopsticks frozen halfway to his mouth.
She rushed to the sink, rinsing her hands hurriedly, water splashing against the counter.
Muttering under her breath, she snatched a worn-out handbag from the hook by the door and began rummaging through it, pulling out makeup, tying her hair up in a neater bun with shaky fingers.
"I thought I still had time," she muttered, cheeks puffed in frustration.
Watching her, Jae-Hyun felt a tight squeeze around his heart.
Even after all these years, after everything, she still fought so hard every day, for him, for herself.
He set his bowl down quietly and stood up.
"Need me to help with anything?"
She looked over her shoulder, strands of hair falling loose from her bun, and smiled.
"No, no, just, be good today, okay? I'll be back around midnight."
"You're working a double shift?"
"Someone called in sick," she said, slipping on her battered shoes by the door. She forced another smile. "It's fine. Extra pay."
He wanted to tell her she didn't have to.
He wanted to tell her to quit, to rest, to let him take care of things.
But he wasn't ready yet.
Not yet.
"Be careful," he said instead.
"I always am."
She reached out and ruffled his hair, a simple, affectionate gesture that hit harder than any words could.
And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft thud.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy.
It was peaceful.
Jae-Hyun leaned against the table, eyes closed, letting the weight of the morning settle over him.
He was back.
He had another chance.
And this time, he wouldn't waste it.
He wouldn't chase after the acceptance of a family that had thrown him away before he could even walk.
He wouldn't let the world tell him what he was worth.
This time, he would build something.
Something real.
He glanced toward the door where his mother had disappeared moments before, the faint scent of her lavender soap still lingering in the air.
"...I love you, Mom," he said quietly.
The words felt awkward, clumsy, almost too big for his mouth.
But they were true.
He meant them with every piece of himself.
"You have a good heart."
The voice came out of nowhere, slicing through the silence like a blade.
Jae-Hyun nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast the chair behind him toppled over with a crash.
"What—!?"
At first, he thought no one was there.
But then he saw it.
Floating a few feet above the table, flickering faintly like a candle about to go out, was a small… being.
It wasn't human.
Or animal.
Or anything he had words for.
Roughly the size of a large cat, it had a translucent, almost ghostly body, shaped vaguely like a wisp of smoke given form. Two glowing blue eyes blinked at him from what might have been its head.
The thing gave a small, almost bashful bow in the air.
"I commend you for your honesty," it said, voice light and musical. "And your sentiment. Truly rare qualities in a soul born of blood such as yours."
Jae-Hyun stared, frozen.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"What the hell are you?" he croaked.
The being straightened in the air, puffing itself up proudly.
"I am the Herald of the Covenant," it announced, voice ringing faintly through the room like a bell.
The light around it pulsed once, casting long, rippling shadows across the table and walls.
"I am here to guide you."
Jae-Hyun didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
His brain scrambled to catch up with what was happening.
And then—
The creature smiled, or at least, he thought it did.
"Nice to meet you, Min Jae-Hyun."
Jae-Hyun took a shaky step back, nearly tripping over the chair lying on the floor. His heart thundered against his ribs, adrenaline flooding his veins.
"What do you mean 'guide me'?" he demanded, voice rough. "What are you talking about? What covenant?"
The glowing creature tilted its head, its wispy body undulating gently, almost like smoke caught in a breeze.
"I understand your confusion," it said pleasantly, as if they were chatting over tea. "Allow me to clarify, you are a recipient of an extraordinary opportunity. I have been assigned to assist you on this journey, as per the Covenant of Second Light."
"Covenant of... Second Light?"
The Herald floated a little closer, its bright eyes shimmering like twin stars.
"It is not for you to understand everything at once," it said cryptically. "In time, all will become clear."
Jae-Hyun stared at the creature, still struggling to piece together what was happening.
He had just come back from the dead.
That alone was enough insanity for one lifetime.
But now there was… this.
This talking... thing.
This floating smoke blob telling him he had a destiny.
He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down in frustration.
"This is insane," he muttered under his breath.
Then he squinted at the Herald.
"...Why do you look like that?"
The creature blinked, genuinely surprised.
"Like what?"
"Like..." Jae-Hyun gestured vaguely. "Like a haunted dumpling or something."
There was a pause. And then, impossibly, the Herald let out a sound — a tinkling laugh, like chimes in the wind.
"If my appearance troubles you, I can adjust."
Before Jae-Hyun could even react, the Herald's body began to shift.
The smoke condensed, swirling faster and faster, until it reshaped itself.
The form grew sharper, more defined.
When it stopped, floating there was a creature that looked vaguely humanoid — around the size of a child, with a robe of shimmering blue fabric that seemed stitched from starlight. Its "face" remained simple, two bright eyes and a gentle curve where a mouth might be, but at least now it had arms, legs, and something resembling a body.
"Is this more to your liking?" it asked, spreading its arms wide as if showing off a new outfit.
Jae-Hyun just gawked.
"...You look like a mascot from some MMORPG."
"I shall take that as a compliment."
He blinked again.
This wasn't a dream.
He was sure of that now.
The sharp smell of the noodles still lingered. His mother's slippers were still by the door. The sunlight was still creeping across the floor.
This was real.
All of it.
He swallowed hard.
"Alright," he said finally, sitting down heavily on the couch. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say you're real. What's your name?"
The Herald floated down slightly, coming closer to his eye level.
"You may call me Herald," it said simply. "Or if you prefer something more personal... Hae-Lin."
"Hae-Lin?" Jae-Hyun echoed, eyebrows raising. "That's... surprisingly normal."
The creature shrugged, or made a motion close to it.
"I took it from your language records. I thought it fitting."
Jae-Hyun pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So you can read my mind too?"
"Not entirely," Hae-Lin said, voice gentle. "Only enough to interpret your intentions. Consent matters, even to us."
"Great," Jae-Hyun muttered. "Privacy's officially dead."
He leaned back against the couch, feeling the worn cushions press against his back, and stared at the ceiling.
"So what now? You just... hang around me? Give me advice? Act like some fairy godmother?"
Hae-Lin chuckled again, the sound light and musical.
"Not quite. I am not here to live your life for you. I am merely a guide. You will walk the path yourself."
"And this path is...?"
"Redemption," Hae-Lin said simply. "Growth. Change. All the things you seek — and fear."
The words settled over Jae-Hyun like a second skin, heavy but strangely comforting.
He wasn't being dragged into some grand prophecy.
He wasn't being handed power for free.
It would still be him, every step of the way.
And somehow, that made it easier to accept.
He rested his head against the back of the couch, exhaling slowly.
"So… you're like a system, aren't you? One of those things from games. Missions, rewards, stats?"
"An apt comparison," Hae-Lin said. "Although I am... more refined than a crude game mechanic."
"Right," Jae-Hyun said dryly. "Of course. Forgive me, O Mighty Herald."
The little being floated in a slow circle, seemingly amused.
"You will see soon enough."
Jae-Hyun closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing.
It was a lot.
Too much.
But strangely, it wasn't unbearable.
He felt... grounded.
Like he had something solid to hold onto, even if he didn't fully understand it yet.
When he opened his eyes again, Hae-Lin was still there, patiently waiting.
Jae-Hyun chuckled weakly under his breath.
"Well, Hae-Lin," he said, "I guess we're stuck together, huh?"
The Herald dipped in the air, almost like a bow.
"Until the journey ends."
"And when will that be?"
"When you are ready," Hae-Lin said. "And not a moment before."