The S-class Awakening

---

The room was dim, the only light a soft amber glow seeping through half-closed blinds. Jonghyun sat on the edge of his unmade bed, his head tilted back against the cool wall. The ceiling stared back, cracked and silent, as if waiting for him to say something first.

The day had bled into evening, and exhaustion clung to his bones. His guide assignments had been dull—D-rank espers with barely any resonance. It felt mechanical, lifeless. He rubbed his temples, his silver hair catching the faint light. Is this all I am?

Suddenly—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

His phone vibrated, slicing through the stillness. He glanced at the screen.

> Mom

Jonghyun's lips pressed into a line before he answered. "Hey, Mom."

A familiar, warm voice came through, soft but with a subtle edge of concern. "Jonghyun-ah, are you eating properly?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "I'm fine, Mom. You don't need to worry."

"You say that, but you always skip meals when you're busy."

His voice was light but teasing. "You've said that since high school."

A pause—then her voice shifted, gentle but probing. "Jonghyun… have you thought about what we talked about last time?"

His smile faded. His fingers tightened around the phone. "…If you mean quitting my job, no."

"Jonghyun," she sighed, disappointment slipping through her careful tone. "You're wasting your talent. With your skills, you could be working in something more stable. You could work a normal job, not risk your life every day."

Jonghyun's jaw tightened. "I'm fine with my job. I'm a guide, and I want to help people. That's enough for me."

His mother's voice lowered, as if she were trying not to argue. "But what about your future? You're working with low-level espers, constantly stuck in dangerous situations. You can't keep living like this. Have you thought about switching to something else—something safer?"

Jonghyun didn't respond immediately, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. It wasn't just the job. It was his purpose.

A new voice cut in, low and stern. "Hyerin, enough."

Jonghyun froze. "Dad."

Han Jiho's voice was calm but firm, like the weight of the world behind every word. "Don't waste your life, son. You've been a guide for years. But it's not getting you anywhere. You're still stuck, barely scraping by. What are you going to do with your life?"

Jonghyun clenched his fists. "I'm not quitting guiding. I'm helping people. I don't want to work in an office or some other mundane job."

His father's voice deepened with frustration. "You can't keep pretending guiding is your future. You'll never have stability or security. You could get an office job—something normal—and build a life for yourself."

Jonghyun felt his chest tighten, but he stood his ground. "I don't need that kind of job. I'm doing what I love."

His mother, softer now but no less insistent, spoke up. "Jonghyun-ah, please. Think about it. You can do anything. You don't have to risk your life every day."

A sigh escaped his lips. "I'll come home."

"Good," his father said, his tone softening just a fraction. "We'll talk properly, face-to-face."

His mother's voice softened too. "Come home, Jonghyun-ah. I'll make your favorite meal. We miss you."

---

The warmth of the apartment wrapped around him the moment he stepped inside. It smelled of sizzling garlic, fermented kimchi, and pork belly crisping on the pan—home.

"Jonghyun-ah!" Yoo Hyerin emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her silver hair, long and gently curled, shimmered in the kitchen light, and her green eyes—eyes that matched his—brightened at the sight of him. "You've gotten thinner."

Jonghyun smiled softly. "You always say that, Mom."

"You never eat properly," she scolded, but her voice was fond.

From the living room, his father, Han Jiho, lowered his newspaper. His face, weathered and lined, was carved from hard years. Thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jaw gave him the imposing presence of a man who rarely wasted words. "You're late," he said gruffly. "But you're here. That's enough."

Jonghyun bowed slightly. "Good to see you, Dad."

---

Dinner was everything he loved: sizzling pork belly, seasoned spinach, and a bubbling pot of kimchi jjigae that smelled like childhood. His mother, as always, showed love through her cooking, making sure his bowl was never empty.

But as the meal slowed, so did the peace.

"So," his father began, placing his chopsticks down with a soft clink, "how long do you plan to waste your life on scraps?"

Jonghyun's grip on his spoon tightened. "…Dad."

Han Jiho's dark eyes, sharp and unyielding, met his. "You've been a guide for years. But you're still with D-ranks. No progress. No future. You're better than this."

His mother, her voice softer but no less insistent, added, "You could be doing something normal. A stable job. Why not leave guiding behind and work as an office worker or something else? You could have a secure future, Jonghyun."

Jonghyun's chair scraped softly against the floor as he sat back. "I don't care about stability. I want to help people."

His father's gaze was heavy, his jaw tight. "Idealism won't pay your bills. You need to think about your future. What's the point of being a guide if it's not getting you anywhere?"

"I'm not quitting," Jonghyun said, his voice steady but firm.

The silence between them stretched, thick with everything unsaid. His father's face was unreadable, but his mother…

Yoo Hyerin sighed, frustration fading into something rawer—love and helplessness intertwined. "You're so much like your father. Stubborn to the bone."

Then, without another word, she nudged the plate toward him. "Eat more. You've barely touched your food."

Jonghyun's lips quirked faintly. "Yes, Mom."

---

The night air bit cold as he stepped outside, his parents' words still echoing in his chest. The tension sat heavy on his heart, but beneath it… warmth. They never say it, but they care.

But then—

BOOOOM!

The earth shuddered, a concussive wave that rattled windows and sent car alarms screaming.

Jonghyun's head snapped up. A plume of smoke and debris erupted down the street, and a monstrous, bone-chilling roar tore through the night.

His heart pounded. A dungeon break. Here?!

People ran—screaming, scattering like leaves before a storm. And there—

A child. Alone. Frozen in terror, barely a few meters from where the creature's jagged claws were descending.

Jonghyun didn't think. He moved.

"HEY!" he shouted, sprinting, hoping to draw the monster's attention—

But—

The air cracked.

A rip through reality, space folding—

And he appeared.

A man.

No—an esper.

Tall. Powerfully built. His black hair tousled from the sudden arrival, and his sharp, devastatingly handsome features carved from something impossibly perfect. His eyes—cold, dark, and lethal—flicked toward the child, and—

The child was gone. Scooped into his arms and placed beyond danger in less than a blink.

Jonghyun's breath hitched. "He… teleported?"

But there was no time to process—

The beast lunged, claws cutting through the air.

Yet—

The esper didn't move.

The air moved for him.

Space folded, and he was gone—reappearing above the monster's head. His fist, wrapped in the unseen pressure of compressed space, crashed down. The earth beneath them shattered, spiderweb cracks ripping through the pavement from the sheer impact.

The beast howled, staggering.

But the fight wasn't over.

It swung wildly, but every strike hit nothing. He flickered—a ghost in reality, here—no, there— slipping through folds in space with perfect precision.

And then—

The air around his fist twisted, collapsing into a singularity—raw, crushing pressure—

With one final blow—

The monster imploded, folding into itself with a sickening crunch.

And silence—

Sudden. Absolute.

The esper straightened from his stance, the folds of reality snapping back into place as if nothing had happened.

Jonghyun's pulse roared in his ears. His body screamed for him to move—to run—to do anything. But he was frozen.

Because the esper turned.

And their eyes met.

The man's gaze, cold and unreadable, locked onto Jonghyun's green eyes.

And in that charged second—

Jonghyun felt it.

A pull.

An unseen thread, tightening between them—something instinctive, something raw.

His breath hitched.

Because this wasn't normal.

This wasn't chance.

It felt like fate.

---

End of Chapter 2.