CHAPTER 3: SEOUL STATION ( 1 )
The young man walked through the effervescent streets of Seoul, each step echoing in the city's turmoil. His suitcase rolled behind him, and in his other hand, he held his phone.
Earphones jammed into his ears… but no music.
No need.
The blaring horns, the hurried footsteps on the pavement, the loud conversations bursting from every direction… this urban cacophony of the concrete jungle was enough.
In the middle of this turmoil, he remained, marble-like and indifferent, moving at his own pace in his own imaginary world.
No rush.
He never rushed. The world, anyway, was already running fast enough without him.
Suddenly, Ken stopped for a moment in front of a wall covered in posters showing photos.
Men, women, children… Faces frozen in time.
Missing persons.
Names scribbled, messages underneath, some faded by time, others replaced by fresh, recent photos covering most of the wall.
For the past two years, the world had been facing a phenomenon as absurd as it was inexplicable.
Hundreds of people mysteriously vanished, all over the world, overnight, without leaving a single trace.
Rich, poor none were spared.
Major global organizations like the UN and INTERPOL gathered the best scientists and researchers from around the world to understand this scourge.
But nothing. Powerless, unable to comprehend, let alone explain it.
The media screamed horror.
Almost every day, someone somewhere in the world was reported missing.
Populations across the globe drowned in waves of rumors.
It was chaos—forums and social media exploded with theories, each more far-fetched than the last.
Alien abductions, secret experiments…
Governments increased patrols, surveillance cameras. Specialized units tried to understand the phenomenon.
But nothing.
In the end, once the euphoria passed, the most terrifying thing wasn't the disappearances.
The most terrifying thing was that everyone had gotten used to it.
Ken resumed his walk.
He barely crossed a small alley when whispers, hurried conversations, glances, intense stares followed him.
It was a tempo Ken Jinheon knew all too well.
For him, it had become a habit to be watched like that the opposite would've been surprising.
Those persistent.
He was used to them, pretending not to notice.
But their insistence… it weighed in the air.
Since childhood, it had always been the same—every time he went out, people looked at him like he was some kind of sideshow freak.
"Am I a monster?"
He'd asked himself that question countless times. But the truth was something else.
No!
You don't look at a monster like that not with those eyes, not with that expression on your face.
Not with such intensity.
It wasn't fear, not really rejection either.
It was like fascination.
As if they were seeing something unreal. A myth lost in modern streets. A fictional character, straight out of a novel or a tale.
And they had reason to believe it—it was obvious at first glance. You just had to look at Ken to see it.
Ken Jinheon was excessively beautiful.
An unreal beauty the kind of charm you only find in fiction or novels.
Jet-black hair, the perfect mix of waves, straightness, and soft curls. Rebellious, swept back, with two long strands falling gently on either side of his forehead.
Eyebrows shaped like blades, a perfect jawline, a face with disturbing symmetry. Smooth lips, a delicate pink.
But the detail that truly left no one indifferent… was his eyes.
Eyes straight out of a fantasy novel.
Scarlet ruby red, unique in this world. Shining like jewels, they seemed unreal.
A supernatural glow, caused by a genetic mutation so rare that even science struggles to explain its origin.
He had a piercing, captivating, almost hypnotic gaze.
You could easily get lost in it… As if a fallen angel or a demon destined to rule the world was staring at you, with the cold certainty of his power.
His skin, a rare light brown in this region, contrasted with the majority and made his eyes stand out even more. A warm, soft complexion, almost golden under certain light reflections.
And then, there was his build—taller, more defined, naturally magnetic. A silhouette made to stand out, even in a crowd.
The young man kept walking, following his path, paying attention to no one, as if nothing mattered.
And it didn't.
The young man was always discreet. Suddenly, a shrill voice rang out like thunder in the alley.
"WATCH OUT! THAT TRUCK'S OUT OF CONTROL, THE BRAKES FAILED!!!"
Someone shouted in the alley.
The street filled with panicked screams.
Then
A piercing rumble.
The sharp screech of tires followed.
HONK! HONK!!
A white truck appeared out of nowhere.
It barreled down the slope at full speed, uncontrollable.
The screeching tires tore through the air, accompanied by the screams of passersby trying to warn Ken.
But too late.
When Ken realized it The white truck was already in front of him.
Huge.
Imposing.
A deadly threat.
He barely had time to understand what was happening…
Before it lunged straight at him.
The crowd packed into the alley froze, horrified.
Some screamed.
Others turned away, unable to bear the sight.
But suddenly…
Something improbable happened.
***
They say we humans are incapable of using 100% of our body's capabilities. Not because we're weak, no…
But because our brain is riddled with locks.
Biological, psychological locks.
Invisible chains that limit our true power.
Unconscious barriers…
That prevent us from reaching our full potential.
Some people, no matter how much they train, no matter how much they sacrifice, will never reach that potential.
Because those locks… are too deep.
But…
There's an exception to that rule.
A moment.
A suspended instant in time.
A situation that short-circuits all those locks.
An experience only those who've brushed with death understand.
Yes…
You guessed it.
The exception is death.
Or rather…
a face-to-face with it.
When your life hangs by a thread.
When your heart beats so hard it might explode.
When your body, pushed to its limits, refuses to die…
Only then, a spark ignites.
One lock breaks.
Then another.
Then all.
And at that precise moment…
your true power is revealed.
***
Ken's eyes widened.
And suddenly… time froze.
Just for a moment. But it was enough.
Something triggered inside him.
A sixth sense. Brutal. Instinctive.
His body moved before he had time to think.
Like an animal guided by urgency.
It wasn't just a reflex.
It was perfect coordination.
His nerves. His muscles. His bones.
Everything aligned to the millisecond.
In barely a second,
He threw his suitcase to the other side of the street with a swift, unhesitating motion.
Then, with a quick pivot, he turned toward a small free tasting table pressed against a shop wall.
His foot pushed off its edge.
And without slowing down, he launched himself backward with inhuman force.
A backflip. A full twist.
A spin mid-air, frozen in motion.
His body sliced through the air, above the speeding truck.
An extreme acrobatic move. Unreal.
Like something out of an action movie.
Below him, the truck crashed head-on into the shop,
in a brutal, metallic smash.
Then, he landed on his feet.
Perfectly stable. Both legs bent.
Unscathed.
Not a scratch.
Not a breath out of place.
He had literally dodged death.
An unreal silence fell over the alley.
No words.
No breath.
Just distant horns,
and the shrill alarm of the truck now crushed against the wall.
The crowd still struggled to believe what they'd just seen. Mouths wide open, unable to process.
Even the cat on the opposite sidewalk had stopped licking its paw, looking dumbfounded.
A high schooler had just pulled off a feat worthy of the greatest Olympic athletes.
And instead of shouting, bragging, or collapsing, he…
…calmly picked up his suitcase.
And resumed his walk.
As if nothing had happened.
The witnesses could only watch him leave, speechless, still stunned by what had just occurred.
Soon, Ken finally arrived at Seoul Station.
It was large, modern, with its glass-and-metal architecture. A true showcase of progress.
Inside, it was the usual chaos. The station teemed with people, like every morning. Normal, for a city as massive as Seoul.
The sound of footsteps echoed everywhere.
Announcements blared from the loudspeakers.
Voices overlapped, collided.
A constant cacophony.
People passed, repassed.
Ken descended the stairs leading to the platforms, soon ready to board.
But a commotion from a corridor to his right caught his attention and forced him to slow down.
"Bastard, you wanna die or what?"
"I told you to bring smokes when you came here."
"You really don't care about your life, huh…?"