The first week after the System appeared was… quiet.
That was the part that confused me the most, looking back. There were no sirens. No emergency broadcasts. No screaming headlines or flashing warnings. The world didn't react the way it was supposed to. Nothing collapsed. Nothing burned. Nothing froze.
We stayed in the apartment.
At first, it felt almost silly, like we were playing with something we didn't fully believe was real yet. I used my fire to boil water without turning on the stove. Held a small flame in my palm just to see if it would burn me. It didn't. It felt warm. Comfortable. Familiar, even. Like it had always been there and I'd just forgotten how to use it.
Hye-Rin tested her power too. She liked making frost creep along the edge of the table, liked watching ice form in patterns that looked intentional, elegant. She laughed more than I expected. Took pictures. Recorded short videos she never posted. She talked about what she could do with it, how amazing it looked, how people would react if they saw it.
I used my fire to heat the apartment when the nights got cold. To cook. To dry laundry faster. Ordinary things. Useful things. It felt grounded. Practical. Almost boring.
I remember thinking that if this was all the System was, then people were overreacting. That maybe it really was just a strange gift. Something extra layered on top of normal life.
There was no countdown. No voice telling us to prepare. No hint that anything was coming.
That normalcy was the most dangerous part.
Hye-Rin changed during that week, but slowly, in ways that were easy to dismiss if you weren't paying attention. She spent more time experimenting alone. Less time sitting with me. When she talked, it was usually about her power, not ours. Not us.
She stopped asking me how work was. Stopped complaining about the apartment, at least out loud. Instead, she stared at her reflection more often. Practiced movements. Posed in the mirror with faint frost clinging to her fingertips.
I noticed. I just didn't think it mattered.
Exactly one week after the System appeared, the temperature dropped.
Not gradually. Not over hours or days. It felt like someone had flipped a switch.
The air turned sharp. Painfully sharp. The kind of cold that steals your breath before you realize you're freezing. Snow fell sideways, thick and heavy, slamming into buildings like thrown sand. Roads vanished under white within minutes. Cars stalled where they were, doors frozen shut, engines useless.
The power went out almost immediately.
Our apartment went from small to suffocating in less than an hour. The windows iced over so fast we could watch the frost spread, spiderwebbing across the glass. The pipes screamed, then went silent. The walls felt like they were closing in, every surface bleeding heat.
Without my fire, we would have died there.
I kept the room warm enough to breathe. Melted ice away from the door inch by inch until we could force it open. Led us down stairwells choked with snow and panicked voices. People crying. People screaming. People begging anyone with warmth to stay close.
We didn't cause the Ice Age.
No matter what people later believed, no matter how many fingers were pointed, it wasn't human error. It wasn't climate change spiraling out of control overnight. It was too sudden. Too complete. Too precise.
I knew it then, even if I didn't want to admit it.
The System did this.
Once the shock wore off, others like us started to appear.
People with abilities came out of hiding because they had no choice. Fire users lighting entire blocks just to keep people alive. Strength users clearing debris. Electricity users trying and failing to bring power back online. And Ice users… hiding. Running. Being blamed.
The collapse was fast after that.
Stores were emptied in hours. Then days later, people started taking from each other instead. Groups formed. Then factions. Those with power rose quickly. Those without learned how to kneel or how to kill.
Fire became the most valuable thing in the world.
I didn't have to chase attention. It found me. Someone always knew someone who knew where I was. Word spread. Safe zones formed around wherever I stayed longest. I noticed the pattern before anyone said it out loud.
I was needed.
That didn't mean I was respected.
It definitely didn't mean I was protected.
The government found me soon after. Or maybe I found them. It didn't feel forced at first. They talked about duty. About stabilizing regions. About how many people would die without someone like me.
I agreed.
I became a generator. A living one. Hooked into systems that barely held together. I powered heaters, shelters, hospitals. They called me essential. They gave me titles. Put me on screens. Smiling faces thanking me for my sacrifice.
Then the experiments started.
They said it was for understanding. For safety. For replication. Maybe if they could recreate my power, humanity wouldn't have to rely on a single person.
It hurt.
Sometimes a lot.
I told myself pain was temporary. That if this helped even a little, it was worth it. I signed forms I didn't fully read. Let them push boundaries I didn't even know existed.
When they realized they couldn't replicate it, their focus shifted.
There were other System users causing problems. Rogue elements. Unstable threats. They needed someone who could handle them.
They needed me again.
So I hunted people like myself.
I told myself it was different. That I was keeping order. That I was preventing worse things from happening. I learned how to fight without burning cities down. How to control heat so tightly it only hurt who it was meant to hurt.
By then, Hye-Rin was gone.
There was no dramatic fight. No goodbye worth remembering. One day she just wasn't there anymore. I didn't ask where she went. I didn't have the energy.
I had people to save. Systems to power. Lines to cross.
There wasn't time to stop and think about what any of it meant.
There never was.