"...You should wake up now. You're going to be late."
The voice was soft. Mechanical, but oddly warm.
Han Juwon's eyes snapped open.
White ceiling. Pale morning light. A distant rumble of trains on overhead rails.
He blinked slowly, his mind slow to catch up, like a machine booting up after too long in sleep mode.
The voice again, only inside his head.
[Welcome back, Han Juwon. System boot: complete. You are now synced with OS-Ai: Arin. Daily sync status updated. Health: 89%. Mana: 43%. Mental Load: 19%. Emotional Residue: Quietly Anxious. Reminder: Academy exam today. Wake-up call delivered. Next scheduled task: Transit departure in 42 minutes.]
Juwon rubbed his face. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that voice since waking up in this world, but it still didn't feel real.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
Not in this room, not in this life, not in this world.
Everything felt like it belonged to someone else.
The futuristic cityscape humming beyond the window. The interface hanging subtly in his vision. The name.
Han Juwon.
He wasn't Han Juwon. But that's who he was now.
This world—half cyberpunk metropolis, half fantasy epic—was terrifyingly detailed. People walked with weapons at their sides and magic in their veins. He'd seen cars hover and dragons fly in the same afternoon. Ancient pagodas sat beside neon towers, temples made of glowing crystal embedded in steel.
And somehow, everyone had a system.
A literal status window floating in their vision, synced with an internal AI.
Each person's AI spoke only to them. No one else could hear it. By default, the AI handled scheduling and alerts, but any deeper functions required direct questions or commands.
Juwon sat up slowly. The bed was too comfortable. The room too neat. This wasn't the shitty apartment from his past life—the one with peeling wallpaper, the one that always smelled like damp laundry.
No. This was...
New.
Clean.
Like a blank page.
But the problem was: he didn't know the story.
He didn't know the rules of this world, not fully. Only faint memories. Glimpses. Impressions. He felt like he'd read something once—maybe a novel, maybe a game walkthrough—but forgot most of it.
Familiar, but distant.
The only clear truth was this:
He had died. In a world much duller than this. And now he was here. In someone else's shoes.
[Reminder: Your sister requires her medication refill within 3 days. Your mother's condition remains stable. Morning sync complete. Awaiting further input.]
Ah. That.
Some things, at least, felt real.
He stood up and glanced at the small photo by his desk—himself, a sickly but smiling woman, and a grinning six-year-old girl with oversized glasses.
Juwon didn't know them.
But he had their memories.
And he felt... responsible.
Thirty minutes later, he stood at the edge of a skywalk platform, watching the mag-rail shimmer to a stop. A dozen other teens stood nearby, each dressed for combat in slightly customized uniforms.
Some were stretching. Others comparing weapons or spell-tech gear. Some just brooded dramatically like they were already main characters.
He stood out for being... too average.
Too quiet.
The AI chimed softly with a mental nudge.
[Your destination: Arcadia Academy. Prestige Index: S+. Academy Ranking: #3 globally. Acceptance Rate: <1%. Prepared?]
He didn't respond.
Juwon stepped onto the train.
The train hummed through the sky, weaving between high-rises and floating garden towers. The city below was a dream—half Seoul, half science fiction.
Inside the car, a few students had already opened their Status Windows—visible only to them—and were mentally conversing with their AIs.
He peeked at his, hesitating.
"Display my current stats," he thought.
[Displaying current status.]
[Status: Han Juwon]
Rank: Unranked (Pending Evaluation)
Magic Type: Unknown (Dormant)
Talent: Spell Stitcher [Rank: C+]
Mana Sync Rate: 31%
Combat Rating: N/A
Physical Assessment: Average
Mental Load: Low
System Notes: Potential Detected
[Talent Overview: Spell Stitcher]
[Combine two spells into one hybrid version. Outcomes may vary. Potential risk: High. Creativity rating affects success.]
Nothing flashy. Nothing OP.
Just potential.
He closed the screen. One of the other kids—a tall girl with lightning tattoos—glanced at him briefly. Then looked away.
Just another nobody.
And that was fine.
The Academy loomed ahead like a fortress built by architects drunk on both tradition and ambition. High marble towers carved with runes. Floating rings of obsidian drifting around lecture halls. Courtyards filled with cherry blossoms and machine-forged sculptures.
It looked... impossible.
Juwon stepped off the train with the others.
[Welcome to Arcadia Academy. Please proceed to the Orientation Hall for initial registration. A test of magical aptitude and combat readiness will follow. Estimated participants: 3,892. Available slots: 137.]
No pressure.
Inside the Orientation Hall, a thousand students packed into the glass dome, a giant holographic display hovering in the center. Names scrolled rapidly. Announcements boomed.
Some students looked excited.
Others anxious.
Juwon stood near the back, his eyes darting across faces. None familiar.
Yet all of them important. Potential rivals. Future allies. Or threats.
Some of them were from powerful clans. Others bore names from countries that controlled gates and monster zones. Many had bloodline magic, inherited talents, and support networks.
He had a sick mom, a little sister, and a middling talent with dangerous risk.
[System Update: Aptitude Testing Begins in 15 Minutes. You will be assigned a simulation chamber. AI assistance will be disabled during active exam periods. Would you like a warmup visualization?]
"No."
He needed silence.
He just needed a second to breathe.
This wasn't his world. But he was here now. In the story. In the background.
And maybe...
Maybe he'd stay there.
Quiet.
Observing.
Stitching together the fragments.
Just surviving was enough—for now.
But deep inside, he had a feeling he wouldn't stay unnoticed forever.
And that scared him more than anything.
[AI Arin Signing Off for Aptitude Phase. Good luck, Han Juwon.]