The next day, Hanwol High felt different.
Not like after a fight or a fire drill—but like something sacred or cursed had taken root in its bones. The kind of quiet that settles in churches or cemeteries. Heavy. Watching.
Everyone had heard what happened in the hallway.
Everyone had seen Jaeho collapse.
And no one could explain it.
The rumor mill was in overdrive, but none of the whispers made sense.
"He activated a hidden artifact—"
"No way. He's secretly a Rank B who was hiding his power."
"You guys don't get it. It was a demon curse. A real one."
But Suho didn't say anything.
He sat in his usual seat at the back of Classroom F-3. Head down. Silent. Still.
No one threw paper balls at him. No one snapped gum or whispered insults behind his back. No one even looked directly at him.
Because they were afraid.
Jaeho hadn't returned to class.
Word was, he was holed up in a private healing facility. He hadn't spoken since yesterday. Just curled up, eyes wide, mumbling about thrones and stars.
The teachers had no answers. Mr. Go walked into class like usual, but his eyes flicked toward Suho—and then quickly away, like looking too long might invite something unnatural.
Even the air near Suho's desk felt heavier. Thicker. Like gravity bent around him.
When the lunch bell rang, no one invited him to eat.
Not because they forgot him.
But because no one dared.
That night, Suho stood alone on the rooftop of his apartment building.
The city below shimmered like constellations trapped in glass. Cold wind tore through his hair and tugged at his clothes. The sky was wide and empty above, but he felt something watching.
He rolled up his sleeve.
The marks from the book weren't glowing anymore—but they moved.
Living ink beneath his skin, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat.
He didn't know what they meant.
But he felt them. Felt it.
Something inside him had awakened.
And it wasn't human.
"The Trial of Awakening begins."
Those were the words the book had whispered before it vanished.
But what was the trial?
Why him?
Why now?
"Because you wanted it," said a voice in his mind.
Suho staggered back, his heel skimming the rooftop edge. "Who's there?"
"You touched the book. You made the pact. I am bound to you."
The voice wasn't like the whispers. It was clearer now. Stronger. Older.
"I am what was sealed within it. I am what gave you power. I am your blade and your burden."
Suho swallowed hard. "The book? You're... it?"
"I am the thing beyond names. I am your guide—and your executioner."
Suho's hands trembled.
"You should not be alive, Ahn Suho. But because of me… you are now something more."
He gritted his teeth. "Then tell me what this trial is."
Silence.
Then:
"Your trial… is to survive."
The wind howled like it had heard.
"You've stepped beyond the boundaries of mortals. That throne you saw—it only calls to those worthy of it. But power attracts attention. Gods will take notice. Demons, too."
"They will come for you."
"And if you fall, I will take your soul as payment."
Suho's heart pounded like a war drum.
"You're using me," he whispered.
"So use me back."
Suho froze.
"You want revenge. You want to be remembered. You want to rise above them all. Stop fearing the dark."
"Become it."
He stared down at the city—glowing, oblivious, fragile.
He remembered the throne. Jaeho's scream. The silence that followed.
And deep inside…
He didn't feel guilt.
He felt clarity.
The next morning, Suho found something in his locker.
A black card. No name.
Just five words, written in shimmering red ink that gleamed like blood under moonlight:
"We saw what you did."
And on the back:
"Come find us.Beneath the Bell Tower.Midnight."
Suho flipped it over again, his eyes narrowing.
The whispers stirred like something waking in the dark.
"They come."
To be continued...