Yoo closed his eyes.
Thought about the monster attacks. The screams. The woman dragged into the alley. The blood on Ji-hye's hands after she'd helped treat wounded survivors.
I need to be safe.
Nothing happened.
I need somewhere the monsters can't reach.
Still nothing.
I need—
Wait.
During birth, he hadn't been trying to access a skill. He'd been trying to survive. The skill had manifested because his desperation demanded it.
Maybe that was the key. Not conscious activation... but need.
Yoo imagined a monster breaking into this room right now. Imagined Jae-sung fighting, dying. Imagined himself helpless in the crib as claws descended—
Reality shivered.
A gap appeared in the air above him. Not large—maybe the size of a dinner plate. Through it, he glimpsed... warmth. Safety. The pocket dimension.
There!
"Dimensional aperture established. Stability: 23%. Size: insufficient for full-body transit. Recommendation: expand aperture through sustained focus."
Yoo concentrated. The gap widened. Dinner plate to manhole cover to—
Large enough.
The pull was gentle this time. Not the desperate yank of emergency, but a welcoming invitation.
Yoo let himself fall through.
Inside Extras World
Silence.
Perfect, absolute silence.
No heartbeat—his body was still in the crib, he was just... consciousness here. No breathing. No external sounds.
Just existence.
The space was larger than he remembered. Maybe ten cubic meters now. Empty. Featureless. But warm. Safe.
This is...
"Host personal pocket dimension. Designation: Extras World. Current properties: three-dimensional space, isolated from external reality, time flow synchronized with base reality, no atmospheric requirements, temperature maintained at 21 degrees Celsius, no biological needs while present."
Can I bring my body here?
"Affirmative. Previous emergency transit included full physical form. Current separation is deliberate—consciousness projection while body remains anchored to external reality."
Why would I want to separate?
"Utility: consciousness can practice skills, process information, analyze situations without physical limitations. Body remains safe in external reality. Useful for learning, planning, recovery."
Yoo absorbed this. So he could... what? Come here mentally while his body slept? Use it as a thinking space?
Can I stay here indefinitely?
"Negative. Consciousness-body separation safe for maximum 8 hours before dissociation risks increase. Recommendation: limit sessions to 4 hours or less."
Still. Four hours of uninterrupted thinking. No infant body limitations. No external distractions.
This was invaluable.
Can I make changes here? Create things?
"Testing required. Attempt: visualize simple object. Focus intent. Channel will."
Yoo thought about his past life. His apartment. His desk. The gaming setup he'd spent six months saving for—
A desk appeared.
Not his actual desk. A crude approximation. But solid. Real.
Holy shit.
"Confirmed: host can manifest objects through will and imagination. Limitation: objects must be based on host's memories. Cannot create from nothing—only reconstruct from experience."
Yoo tried again. Visualized his old gaming chair.
It appeared. Threadbare fabric, squeaky wheels, stain on the right armrest from that time he'd spilled coffee.
He would've laughed if he had a body here.
This is incredible. I can—
The space shuddered.
"Warning: Extras World instability detected. Host consciousness has been separated for 47 minutes. Recommend return to body before threshold breach."
What happens if I breach threshold?
"Unknown. Possibilities range from mild disorientation to permanent consciousness fragmentation. Suggest: avoid experimentation with dangerous unknowns."
Fine. How do I get back?
"Simply will it. Desire return. The connection will pull host consciousness back to body."
Yoo focused on his physical form. His infant body in the crib. The warmth of blankets. The smell of Jae-sung's sleeping presence nearby.
Reality snapped.
Return
Yoo gasped—tiny infant gasp, barely audible.
He was back. In his body. The crib walls around him. Darkness overhead.
That was...
"Successful trial. Extras World access confirmed. Dimensional stability: adequate for regular use. Recommendation: practice daily to improve control and expand capabilities."
Yoo agreed. This changed everything.
He had a sanctuary now. A place to think, plan, process trauma without infant body limitations.
A place the monsters couldn't reach.
One question.
"Query registered."
Can I bring other people here?
"Unknown. Testing required. However, exercise extreme caution. Extras World is bounded to host consciousness. Bringing external entities may cause instability or allow unwanted access."
Noted. But if I could bring Dad here during an emergency—
"Acknowledged. Add to future testing protocols."
Yoo settled into his crib. Closed his eyes.
For the first time since rebirth, he felt a spark of genuine hope.
He wasn't completely helpless anymore.
He had a superpower.
Thump-thump.
Tiny victory. But he'd take it.
Ten Weeks After Birth
The faction made its move on day seventy.
Yoo was at Ji-hye's tent. Four other infants present. Ji-hye was outside, talking to another caretaker about food rations.
A man entered. Thirties, nondescript face, dressed like every other slum resident.
But Yoo's Enhanced Senses—developing passively through Akasha's optimization—detected wrongness.
The man moved too efficiently. Scanned the room too quickly. His eyes lingered on Yoo specifically.
Threat.
"Confirmed. Unknown individual. Elevated hunter rank estimated: Silver 20-25. Purpose: uncertain. Recommendation: remain inconspicuous."
The man approached Yoo's crib. Crouched down. Studied him with clinical interest.
"So you're the anomaly," he murmured. "Delivered yourself. Survived impossible circumstances. Dr. Choi's been tracking your development. Says you're growing too fast."
Oh fuck. They've been watching me.
The man pulled out a small device—cylindrical, covered in glowing symbols Yoo didn't recognize.
"Just need a scan. Won't hurt. Probably."