NOVEL WEB Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Invisible at Home
The spoon in Dae's hand had stopped moving twelve minutes ago.
It hovered above his plate like it had lost its will to live. The half Bread on the side had curled up at the edges, clearly trying to escape the conversation. The rice? It had given up on life entirely. Cracked and dry, like his soul.
Across the table, the chaos of perfection continued.
His sister~polished like an award trophy, was deep into another TED Talk about her mock exam results. She sounded like a motivational speaker sponsored by God.
"…And then sir said I was the only one who got full marks. He even asked me to tutor the others! Can you believe that?"
Their mom clasped her hands together like someone had just proposed marriage. "Of course, baby! I told you. your mind is a gift. You're meant for great things."
Their dad, still glued to his phone, didn't even glance up. "Just don't lose focus. That's what matters."
Focus. Sure. Meanwhile, Dae was focusing on the existential decay of his rice.
Another compliment. Another round of applause. Another perfectly curated episode of The Golden Daughter Show, now airing live across their dining table.
And Dae?
Dae sat like a ghost nobody had the courtesy to exorcise. Quiet. Background noise. The chair creaked beneath him like it was the only one acknowledging his existence.
No one asked how school was.
No one asked how he was.
He had passed his last exam. Barely. But passed. And not even a "congrats" emoji.
He cleared his throat. barely audible.
His mother flicked her eyes in his direction, not at him, just through him. Like a sound glitch she didn't want to debug.
Her attention swerved back to his sister, who had now moved on to future college plans and the number of teachers who called her a "rare talent."
Dae swallowed a dry bite. It stuck to the roof of his mouth like guilt. Or shame. Or both.
He looked at the Bread again.
It understood him.
...…..
Later that night, he lay in bed like a crime scene outline.
The ceiling fan ticked overhead like a lazy guillotine counting down. Each rotation whispering: no one asked, no one noticed, no one cared.
This wasn't just boredom. It was the kind of emotional erosion that made you feel allergic to your own name.
Only one person existed in his memory who made the silence feel survivable.
An.
The boy who showed up in first standard carrying his bag like it held his only friend. The teacher had pointed to the seat next to Dae.
And that was that.
An sat. Dae smiled. And life got 0.2% less unbearable.
They were perfect opposites.
Dae, nervous, sarcastic, and already developing trust issues at age seven.
An, quiet, precise, always five steps ahead of the syllabus and seven steps ahead of reality.
But he never made Dae feel stupid. Or slow. Or small.
He made him feel… real.
They walked to school together. Shared tiffins. Hid comic books inside math textbooks. Had long arguments about whether aliens would wear pants or just live commando.
They built secret handshakes that made no logical sense.
They made up conspiracy theories about invisible planets watching Earth through cosmic binoculars.
They were idiots.
Happy, weird, soft idiots.
And for Dae, An wasn't a friend.
He was a constant.
The last piece of gravity in a world trying to float him away.
...….
A knock.
No.. worse.
The door just swung open like privacy was on summer break.
His mom walked in with the posture of a judge mid-verdict. "Start packing. We're leaving tomorrow."
Dae sat up like someone had rewound him. "What?"
"Your sister got into a prep school in the city. We're moving."
"What do you mean we?"
"You're coming too."
"Why?! What about school here? My friends? My…"
"There's a hostel. They had an empty spot."
That wasn't an answer. That was a prison sentence wrapped in bullet points.
Dae stood now, breath hitching. "At least let me say goodbye to An…"
"No."
Sharp. Final.
"You're not contacting anyone. Don't make this dramatic."
She fished into her purse and tossed a tiny packet on the table like she was dealing drugs.
Inside: a new SIM card.
"You'll delete your contacts. Change your number. Tonight."
He stared at it like it had fangs.
"This isn't a request."
His throat dried up. "You're serious."
She didn't even blink. "You'll do as you're told. You always do."
And with that, she turned and left.
Not even a backward glance.
At the door, she paused. "Start packing. Don't be difficult."
As if he was the difficult one.
...
The glow of his phone was the only light in the room now.
His contact list felt like a museum. A place full of names he wasn't allowed to visit anymore.
An was right at the top.
Dae tapped. Opened the last chat.
A dumb conversation about whether quantum particles had favorite colors.
He typed:
"I have to leave. Can't explain. I'm sorry."
Paused.
Stared.
Deleted it.
He knew what sending it would do. It would tie a string to something he wasn't allowed to hold onto.
He opened settings.
Pressed "Delete All Contacts."
The prompt blinked like a dare.
He pressed yes.
Then slotted in the new SIM.
The screen rebooted with the same dead enthusiasm as his parents at parent-teacher meetings.
"Welcome to your new number."
No chats.
No call logs.
No memories.
Just… nothing.
He stared at the empty screen until the battery died.
Then crawled under the blanket and didn't move.
...…..
No one said goodbye the next morning.
Not even by accident.
His sister was too busy complaining about the playlist in the car. His mother checked the lock twice like the house was something she wanted to forget. His dad didn't even bother showing up. apparently had an early meeting. Right.
Dae slid into the back seat like a convict waiting for extradition.
As the car pulled away, he stared out the window, watching the only neighborhood he ever knew shrink into a glitchy blur of houses, potholes, and trees that probably knew too much.
He whispered one last name.
"An…"
It hung in the air like a deleted text he didn't have the guts to send.
He closed his eyes.
In his lap, his phone buzzed once. A system alert.
[Welcome to your new number.]
It glowed like it was proud of itself.
No contacts.
No chats.
No proof he'd ever existed in someone else's world.
Dae stared at it. Then smiled. Just a little.
The sad kind.
The screw-you-universe kind.
"Cool," he muttered. "Guess I'm a ghost now."
Then just as he locked the screen, something flickered for half a second.
A name. Glitchy. Corrupted.
Incoming message: [UNKNOWN SOURCE]
"Dae…?"
He blinked.
Gone.
The screen went black.
No trace. No log.
Just his own reflection in the glass.
And somewhere deep in his chest, buried under rage, grief, and unspoken things.
a warmth stirred.
Small.
Quiet.
Like a match lit in a cave.
The world moved on.
But something inside him?
Refused to.
{End of Chapter 1}
Next Chapter 2 : City of Silence