Kenji's eyes opened naturally to the dim gray light filtering through his bedroom curtains—no shrill alarm, no corporate obligations. Sunday. The simple luxury of waking on his own terms should have brought satisfaction, yet as consciousness fully returned, his jaw tightened with familiar concern.
He stretched languidly, joints popping in the quiet morning air, but the moment of peace shattered as his thoughts inevitably drifted to his young neighbor. That reckless kid. The memory of Jiwoo's animated retelling made Kenji's stomach clench—how the boy had thrown himself headfirst into danger against a hostile awakener, all for a cat he'd just met. The sheer stupidity of it would have been admirable if it weren't so potentially fatal.
I need to investigate where exactly Jiwoo encountered that man, Kenji thought grimly, running a hand through his disheveled white hair as he sat up. The implications were troubling. Random awakeners didn't just appear in quiet Seoul neighborhoods without reason.
Padding out of his bedroom in nothing but sleep shorts, his lean, wiry frame moved with unconscious efficiency through his morning routine. The cool air raised goosebumps along his exposed torso as he made his way to the kitchen, messy white hair catching the early light streaming through the windows.
He poured himself a tall glass of water from the pitcher in his refrigerator, drinking it down in steady gulps while filling his Hyundai electric kettle at the tap. The familiar ritual of plugging it in, hearing the soft click of the switch, brought a moment's normalcy to his churning thoughts.
Returning to his room, Kenji grabbed his JBL Flip 6 speaker and carried it back to the kitchen. His phone connected via Bluetooth with a soft chime, and soon the opening notes of "Zombie" by The Cranberries filled the space.
"Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken..."
Kenji found himself singing along, his voice rough with sleep but surprisingly melodic. The irony of the lyrics wasn't lost on him—violence, experiments, children in danger. How perfectly it mirrored his current concerns about Jiwoo.
The kettle's whistle interrupted his brooding. He prepared his coffee with practiced movements—dark roast, no sugar, just enough milk to cut the bitterness—and stepped outside into his front yard, mug warming his palms.
"Linger" began playing as he connected the garden hose to the outdoor faucet, the haunting melody providing a gentler soundtrack for his morning routine. This time he didn't sing along, simply let the music wash over him as he tended to his carefully cultivated sanctuary.
The hostas unfurled their broad leaves toward the morning light, droplets from his watering catching and refracting tiny rainbows. His Japanese maples, still young but promising, rustled softly in the breeze. The camellia bushes were thick with buds that would bloom in a few weeks, and the bamboo privacy screen swayed with a subtle rustling that helped mask the sounds of the city beyond.
It was while watering this natural barrier that Kenji became aware of whispered giggles from the street. His wooden fence, deliberately kept at waist height to maintain the neighborhood's open feel while still defining his property, offered little privacy from curious passersby.
A group of teenage girls had paused on their morning walk, phones barely concealed as they stared at the half-dressed man tending his garden. Their eyes lingered on his lean physique and distinctive white hair, hushed comments about "that handsome older guy" and "is he a model?" carrying clearly in the still air.
Kenji continued his watering with studied indifference, having long since grown accustomed to such attention. But maintaining his civilian identity meant enduring teenage crushes and curious neighbors with equal stoicism.
The girls eventually moved on, disappointed by his lack of acknowledgment, leaving Kenji alone with his thoughts, his plants, and the growing certainty that his quiet Sunday would be anything but restful.
x
The afternoon sun hung heavy behind gathering clouds as Kenji stood in the narrow alleyway where Jiwoo had encountered the man. The distance from his neighborhood to this corner of the city spoke to how far the boy had chased that cat—and how much danger he'd unknowingly courted.
Kenji closed his eyes and extended his awakened senses, searching for any lingering traces of aether in the surrounding area. The concrete and brick should have held some residual energy from yesterday's confrontation, but the space felt frustratingly clean. Either the awakener was more skilled than anticipated, or enough time had passed for the traces to dissipate naturally.
He approached the brick wall Jiwoo had described, running his fingers along the spider web of cracks that marred its surface. According to the boy's account, the red-suited awakener had used telekinesis to slam the gray striped cat against this very wall. The damage was consistent with the story.
But concrete and broken mortar couldn't tell him who had done this, and their identity and whoever their accomplices are.
Kenji straightened, frustration building in his chest as the investigation hit its first dead end.
Why South Korea? The question had been nagging at him since yesterday. Forced awakening experiments weren't just forbidden—they were actively hunted by awakener organizations worldwide. So why conduct them here, in Seoul, rather than somewhere more remote?
The answer, when it came to him, was coldly logical. South Korea was small, relatively isolated from the major awakener power centers. More importantly, it lacked any awakeners in the global top rankings—no major players who might investigate suspicious activity or interfere with illegal experiments.
It was, Kenji realized with growing unease, the perfect testing ground for someone who wanted to operate beneath international notice.
He glanced at his watch: 3:36 PM. Above, dark clouds were massing with ominous intent, the air growing heavy with the promise of rain. A sensible man would head home, avoid getting caught in what looked to be a serious downpour. But Kenji is not that person.
Kenji pulled his jacket closer and continued walking. The investigation was far from over.
Meanwhile at Jiwoo's House
Jiwoo emerged from his bedroom like a zombie, hair sticking up at impossible angles and his moon-patterned pajamas wrinkled from restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, still caught in that hazy space between dreams and wakefulness, when an unexpected sight brought him to full alertness.
Five food bowls were arranged in a neat line across his living room floor, and Kayden in his rotund orange cat form was methodically opening a bag of cat food with his claws, the plastic crinkling with each precise tear.
"Hey there, kid," Kayden said without looking up, his voice carrying that particular brand of casual authority that made it easy to forget he was technically a cat. "I've taken the liberty to feed them since I figured you'd wake up late." He hefted the food bag with surprising dexterity for someone working with paws, pouring measured portions into each bowl with the efficiency of long practice.
"Good morning, Kayden," Jiwoo mumbled, still processing the domestic scene before him. After a jaw-cracking yawn, he added, "Thanks. I think I got more tired from yesterday than I realized—couldn't seem to wake up at my usual time."
"Of course you're tired, kid." Kayden's tone carried the patience of someone explaining the obvious to a particularly slow student. "You expended way too much aether yesterday, and then you pushed your super speed to maximum just to save this cat." He gestured with one orange paw toward the gray striped cat still curled in a tight ball on the far sofa, sleeping with the deep exhaustion of recent trauma.
After finishing his feeding duties, Kayden padded across the room to the opposite sofa, settling himself with feline grace. "I'll eat after the others are done," he announced, though his eyes never left the sleeping rescued cat.
Jiwoo, now fully awake and alert to the subtle tension in Kayden's posture, crossed the room and settled beside the orange cat. "Um, Kayden? What's wrong? You don't look well."
"Of course I don't look well!" Kayden's paw connected lightly with Jiwoo's head in an affectionate but pointed tap.
"Ugh." Jiwoo rubbed the spot, more surprised than hurt.
"You created problems by taking on a hostile awakener yesterday!" Kayden's voice carried the weight of genuine anger now, his comfortable cat facade cracking to reveal the powerful awakener beneath.
"I didn't want to do it either, but I had to," Jiwoo protested, his voice small but determined. "You saw what that man was doing. If we'd left the cat alone, he would've died for sure."
"Why you did it doesn't matter!" Kayden snapped, an anime-style anger mark practically visible on his furry forehead as Jiwoo flinched back. "What matters is that awakener now considers you an enemy!"
The words hung heavy in the morning air, weighted with implications Jiwoo was only beginning to grasp.
"And you ran away with his cat," Kayden continued relentlessly. "He won't stop chasing you until he gets it back."
But Jiwoo, in his fundamental innocence about the awakener world, couldn't fully process the magnitude of his situation. "What? He's mad, sure, but he wouldn't chase me that long, right?" The question came out hopefully, almost childishly naive.
"What?!" Kayden's voice cracked with disbelief.
"I only saved a cat..." Jiwoo said, as if this simple fact should make everything else irrelevant.
Kayden stared at him with an expression of pure flabbergastation. This kid doesn't even understand what he's done, he thought grimly. I tried to warn him, but everything I said went right over his head.
The truth was more complex and more dangerous than Jiwoo could imagine. Forced awakening experiments were strictly forbidden by every major awakener organization—the kind of crime that brought down swift and brutal retribution. But this man had succeeded, and now he'd lost his only evidence of that success: the gray cat sleeping peacefully on Jiwoo's sofa.
He's going to come looking for it, Kayden thought. And that man and his accomplices won't hesitate to kill Jiwoo to get it back.
Looking at the boy—head now hanging down, shoulders hunched not from fear of his situation but from the worry that Kayden might be mad at him—only deepened the awakener's internal conflict. This kid just found out he's awakened, and he's already in way over his head.
Should I explain all of this to him? Kayden wondered, watching Jiwoo's dejected posture. No. He's only just beginning to understand what he is. Besides, and here Kayden felt a flicker of relief, that neighbor of his is more than capable of resolving whatever mess Jiwoo's gotten himself into. The kid's better off not knowing. Even if he did know, nothing would change, so what good would it do?
"Kayden, are you mad?" Jiwoo's voice was small, uncertain. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to what you said, and I'm sorry for making you worry."
The simple earnestness of it hit Kayden harder than he expected. "Why would I be worried about you?" he snapped in immediate denial, his paw slamming against the sofa cushion with more force than necessary. The protest was automatic, defensive—even though worry was exactly what he felt.
Kayden sighed, a sound that seemed far too deep for his small feline frame. "How about you make me an omelet, kid?"
Jiwoo's face brightened immediately, the simple request dissolving his anxiety like sunshine through clouds. "Okay! Hehe, I'll make one for myself too." He bounced up with renewed energy, padding toward the kitchen with the resilience that only the teen possessed.