It wasn’t just another ordinary day.

It was a storm.

Mujin finished washing his face, walked into his room, and sat down in the chair.

It hadn’t been the confession he was hoping for—but it still marked a turning point in his life.

He had once promised himself he’d live a peaceful life, just like his father wanted.

Then again, living a “normal” life was never exactly easy.

Just look around.

In a world where chaos breaks out every other day, it’s hard to argue that living like everyone else is all that simple. If it were, there wouldn’t be so many accidents and incidents in the first place.

“She asked me to be her comrade… Ha.”

To some, that might sound like childish nonsense.

But Mujin took it seriously.

Jisoo’s presence today had been unlike anything he’d seen before. It was on a different level than her usual awkward immaturity.

Besides, Jisoo was the type who’d rather die than beg.

Behind that spacey exterior was an iron will.

Of course, he hadn’t decided to enroll in the Academy just because of her desperate plea.

“It’s a debt I need to repay.”

From the moment he was born, Mujin had known he was different.

No one taught him how to survive, how to grow stronger—he just figured it out on his own.

Even among so-called prodigies, he stood apart.

He hadn’t realized it as a newborn, but the older he got, the clearer the gap became.

While other toddlers were just learning to walk, he was already mentally mature.

He grew faster than others—literally and figuratively—always a head or two taller than his peers.

Naturally, his father grew more and more concerned.

So Mujin learned to control his body and mind, to suppress and manage his power.

Then, at age six, everything changed.

He had trained his body using books, videos, and media.

But it was seeing Jisoo in kindergarten that truly shocked him.

She had power—different from his.

It wasn’t physical. Through Jisoo, he sensed internal energy.

Looking back, it might not seem like much.

It was only a basic form of the commonly known Three Element Energy Technique—nothing special.

But it became the foundation of his inner force and gave him the insight to perceive the world’s true nature.

That’s why he saw Jisoo as different from the others.

Once he understood the flow of all things through internal energy, he began to grasp a power entirely unlike mere physical training.

Before long, he had built up internal energy and mastered martial arts.

To a fully awakened warrior, this would’ve been earth-shattering news.

To Mujin, though, it was no big deal.

What mattered was the energy itself—and he had the ability to shape how it was used.

And through that power, he was able to heal his father’s broken heart.

Though his father never showed it outwardly, the loss of Mujin’s mother had taken a heavy toll.

The burden had piled up until it manifested physically.

Had Mujin been even a little late, that emotional wound could’ve torn his father’s body apart from within.

Since then, he had quietly used his internal energy to strengthen his father whenever he could.

Not long ago, he’d even helped him undergo bone-deep transformation.

During the process, Mujin had carefully manipulated his father’s meridian flow, so his father never truly understood what had happened.

Nowadays, when they walked side-by-side, people often mistook them for brothers.

In fact, when they were surrounded by older girls, Mujin would sometimes jokingly call his dad “hyung” just to help him out.

This current peace—Jisoo had played a big part in that too.

Sure, he might’ve figured it out later from some cheap martial arts manual.

But if he’d been even a little slower, he might not have been able to stop the worst.

“I wonder how far this power can take me…”

If he’d gone to college, gotten a job…

He would’ve never had the chance to take on a challenge like this.

Rivalries. Combat.

Unexpectedly, his blood was starting to boil.

He couldn’t help but wonder: just how far could he go with this power?

He always thought he had cold blood.

But maybe not.

“I should be grateful, actually.”

If Jisoo hadn’t asked him to join the Academy, he would’ve never rediscovered this burning desire to fight.

Maybe, deep down, he’d been waiting for a moment like this all along.

“It sounds ridiculous… but what if it’s true?”

The Apocalypse!

Once dismissed as fantasy—just something from novels or movies…

But those days were gone.

Awakened beings were real.

Towers had appeared.

Constellations existed.

And the world had become a place of dungeons and monsters.

So really, if the world ended tomorrow—it wouldn’t even be surprising.

The more he thought about it, the firmer his resolve became.

At this point, all that was left was to test it for himself.

—Ah!

He’d been lost in thought too long.

It was almost time for his father to come home.

For once, he felt like doing something.

He wouldn’t give up before even trying.

Do your best, and leave the rest to fate!

He would give it everything he had—and follow his father’s wishes.

As a dutiful son.

Mujin quickly headed to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and took out the ingredients.

Dadadada!

On the cutting board, vegetables—starting with zucchini—were sliced with mechanical precision, as if guided by a ruler.

The scene wasn’t something a beginner could pull off.

It had the finesse of a seasoned chef.

If he uploaded this on YouTube, it’d easily hit a million views.

“Yeah… This is kind of my fault.”

He started cooking after noticing how poor his father’s nutrition was—despite the man being a legendary self-made salaryman.

At first, that motivation had been enough.

But now, his father couldn’t eat food cooked by anyone else.

You could say he brought this on himself.

Still, just seeing his dad enjoy the meal made him happy.

There was as much joy in making food as there was in eating it.

Honestly, Mujin’s cooking had become so good, they hardly ever ate out.

He’d started with common recipes he picked up from various media and gradually improved on them until he developed his own style—unique to him.

He didn’t need to write it down, but—

[Mujin-Style Signature Recipes]

He recorded them anyway, just in case.

It’d also come in handy when teaching his father how to cook here and there.

Any half-decent chef would struggle to replicate his results.

That’s how committed he was to precise measurement and balance.

“There’s no such thing as taste coming from your hands.”

The very idea of “hand flavor” was nonsense to Mujin.

Only perfect ratios and temperature control produced perfect flavor.

Follow the Mujin-Style Recipe, and the result was guaranteed.

And cleanliness was a given.

No matter how tasty it might be, dirty food wasn’t food—it was trash.

Chop chop chop!

Bubble bubble!

On the table, braised beef and soybean paste stew sat at the center, with kimchi and assorted namul laid out in balanced harmony.

Even the spoons and chopsticks were positioned to avoid crossing or bumping into each other.

Maybe it seemed obsessive—but for Mujin, this was easy.

He knew the layout of the house down to the last object.

Nothing went untouched by his hands, which meant his father always came home to a spotless space.

If there was one thing he couldn’t stand—it was people calling his father a lonely old man.

Mujin made sure to cultivate a clean, gentlemanly image for his dad.

“Divorced ladies aren’t too bad, honestly…”

Jisoo could be a little over the top, but overall she wasn’t lacking.

She had decent looks, too.

Still, it was hard to be enthusiastic, knowing she’d been alone for that long.

“Looks matter.”

It’s not like his dad was lacking in any way.

He was a high-ranking department head at a major corporation, had inherited a decent sum from Mujin’s mother, and his investments had all paid off.

If age was the only issue, his recent bone-deep transformation made him look like he was in his early thirties.

Though… in society’s eyes, would that make him a cradle robber?

Clack—beep-beep-beep!

The door opened. His father was home.

Mujin didn’t rush to take his coat, socks, or bag.

His father insisted on doing those things himself.

He was proud of his son—who had matured so early—but it made him a little sad, too.

That’s why they shared most of the household chores equally—except for cooking, which Mujin handled entirely.

“Wash up before dinner.”

“Alright.”

Unless it involved Hunters, his father rarely interfered.

And really, he didn’t need to.

Even without pressure, Mujin had always ranked first in his class.

Now, if he had spent all day locked in his room playing games?

That’d be a different story—and probably a smack on the back.