Kim Juno had always believed that rock bottom had a basement.
Today, he found the sub-basement. And it had monsters.
Juno's lungs burned as he sprinted down the rain-slicked street, his delivery bag bouncing painfully against his hip. Behind him, something that looked like a hairless dog had mated with a garbage disposal snarled and skittered on too many legs. Its eyes—all six of them—glowed an unsettling purple in the dim streetlight.
An E-rank gate fragment. That's what the news would call it tomorrow. A minor dimensional tear, barely worth mentioning. The kind that spat out a single low-level monster before sealing itself. Happened three, maybe four times a week in Seoul. Usually in the shitty neighborhoods where people like Juno lived.
Usually, an Awakener would handle it in thirty seconds flat. Swoop in, flash some cool ability with a dramatic name, collect their bounty from the Association, and leave.
But there were no Awakeners on his street at 9:47 PM on a Wednesday. Just Kim Juno, age 22, college graduate with a useless business degree, non-Awakened, currently running for his pathetic, ability-less life while wearing a bright yellow delivery company vest that screamed "easy target."
He vaulted over a recycling bin with the kind of athleticism that came from two years of running away from angry customers, aggressive dogs, and now, apparently, interdimensional horrors. The creature—was it a Gremlar? A Snaught? A Void-something? He could never keep the stupid monster classifications straight—crashed through the bin like it was made of paper, sending plastic bottles and soju cans flying like shrapnel.
"SOMEONE CALL THE ASSOCIATION!" Juno screamed at the shuttered windows lining the street. Of course everyone had already gone inside and locked their doors. Gate alarms had that effect on people. Why risk your neck when the Awakeners would handle it?
Except the Awakeners weren't here, and Juno was.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably his second part-time job asking where the hell he was. He'd been supposed to clock in twenty minutes ago at the convenience store, but APPARENTLY being chased by an interdimensional horror was not an acceptable excuse for tardiness according to Manager Kim, who had never encountered anything more dangerous than an expired kimbap in his entire life.
Juno's foot hit a puddle wrong. The world tilted sideways in that special slow-motion way that let you know you were completely screwed.
Oh no.
Juno went down hard, palms scraping against concrete that was definitely going to leave scars. The delivery bag spilled open, sending containers of jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk tumbling across the sidewalk in a tragic cascade of wasted food and destroyed tips. Three hours of deliveries. Gone. His phone screen cracked against the pavement with a sound like his future breaking.
The monster's chittering grew louder, closer. He could smell it now—burnt rubber mixed with rotten eggs and something that might have been sulfur. Juno rolled onto his back just in time to see the creature launch itself at him, all teeth and claws and way too many joints bending in ways that violated several laws of physics.
This was it. This was how Kim Juno died. Torn apart by a creature that wouldn't even make the evening news. His sister wouldn't even come to the funeral. She'd probably just send flowers with a card that said "Should have awakened, loser."
The creature's jaws opened wide enough to swallow his head—
Then—a flash of blue light so bright Juno had to squeeze his eyes shut.
"Frozen Cascade."
The temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant. Ice erupted from the ground like a frozen geyser, encasing the monster in a crystalline prison mid-lunge. For a moment, the creature hung there, suspended in perfect clarity, its purple eyes wide with what might have been surprise.
Then a fist wreathed in crackling blue energy came down on the ice like a hammer.
The whole thing shattered.
The monster exploded into black mist that smelled like burnt rubber and regret and every bad decision Juno had ever made. The mist dissipated quickly in the rain, leaving nothing behind but a small purple crystal that clattered to the ground.
Juno stared up at his savior.
She couldn't have been older than nineteen, with sharp eyes lined with expensive-looking makeup and even sharper highlights in her hair—electric blue that matched the energy still crackling around her fists. An Awakener. Obviously. The leather jacket, the confident stance, the way she'd just obliterated a monster without breaking a sweat or even looking particularly interested—all classic Awakener markers.
She glanced down at him sprawled on the ground, took in the ruined deliveries, the cracked phone, the scraped palms, the general patheticness of his existence.
"You okay?" Her tone suggested she was already regretting asking.
"Peachy," Juno croaked. "Living the dream."
She snorted, already turning away to pick up the mana stone—because of course she got to keep the loot too. "Next time, don't run in a straight line. Monsters are stupid, but they're not that stupid. Serpentine pattern. Makes it harder for them to predict your movement."
"I'll add that to my non-Awakener survival guide," Juno muttered, but she was already walking away, probably off to do actually important things with her actually useful abilities. The mana stone disappeared into her jacket pocket. Easy money for her. Death sentence barely avoided for him.
Fair trade, apparently.
Juno lay there for another thirty seconds, staring up at the dark sky. Rain pattered on his face, mixing with what definitely wasn't tears because he'd stopped crying about his situation months ago. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm wailed. Someone's window slammed shut.
He started laughing. Couldn't help it. The sound came out broken and slightly unhinged, echoing off the buildings like the world's saddest comedy show.
Twenty-two years old. Business degree from a mid-tier university that had cost his parents a fortune they didn't have. No job prospects beyond part-time delivery and convenience store shifts. No abilities despite trying every meditation technique, extreme sport, and sketchy "awakening seminar" Seoul had to offer. No friends who still kept in touch after they all awakened or got real jobs. A sister who'd changed her number rather than deal with her useless older brother. A mother in the hospital with Thaumic Rejection Disorder, her body literally attacking its own mana because she'd awakened too late in life, now costing more in medical bills than Juno could make in five years.
And a dad who—
Juno cut that thought off hard. Not going there tonight. Not going there ever if he could help it.
His phone buzzed again despite the cracked screen, which seemed unfair. The phone should at least have the decency to die and put him out of his misery. Manager Kim's name flashed across the broken glass.
Juno didn't answer.
Thirty seconds later: a text message. "You're fired. Don't bother coming in."
"Whatever," Juno muttered, hauling himself to his feet. His palms stung. His knees hurt. His pride had died approximately three years ago so that didn't even register anymore. "Whatever. Cool. Great. Fantastic."
He gathered up the spilled containers—completely unsalvageable—and stuffed them back into his delivery bag. The company would dock his pay for the lost orders. Or they would have, if he still worked for them. He'd probably have to give back the vest and the scooter tomorrow.
Another problem for future Juno.
Present Juno just wanted to go home, peel off his wet clothes, and stare at the ceiling until sleep or death claimed him. Whichever came first.
_____________________
The apartment was exactly as depressing as he'd left it.
Studio-sized, which was generous. "Closet with delusions of grandeur" would be more accurate. One window that faced another building exactly three meters away, offering a spectacular view of someone else's bathroom window. A bed that was also his couch that was also his dining table because furniture was a luxury for people with money. Walls thin enough that he could hear his neighbor's TV through them—some drama about Awakeners saving the world and getting the girl and living in penthouses, because of course it was.
The whole place smelled like mildew and instant ramyeon. Home sweet home.
Juno peeled off his soaked clothes and collapsed onto the bed in his boxers, not even bothering to shower. The water would be cold anyway—the building's heating system was "under maintenance" which was landlord-speak for "broken and we're not fixing it."
The ceiling had a water stain shaped like a duck. Or maybe a rabbit. He'd been staring at it for six months and still hadn't decided. Sometimes it looked like his future—shapeless and slowly spreading.
His phone lay on his chest, screen spiderwebbed with cracks but still somehow functional, which felt like a metaphor for his entire life. Three missed calls from the convenience store. One text from his landlord about next month's rent, due in five days. Zero messages from anyone who cared if he lived or died.
He opened his banking app, already knowing what he'd see but unable to stop himself from checking.
₩127,000.
That would cover maybe a third of rent. A quarter if the landlord raised it again, which he'd been threatening to do.
Juno closed the app and opened his job search instead. Scrolled through listings he'd seen a hundred times. Entry level positions requiring five years of experience. "Exciting opportunities" that paid minimum wage. Warehouses looking for "motivated self-starters" to work overnight shifts moving boxes.
He closed that too.
Opened his messages instead. Scrolled up to the last conversation with his sister. Six months ago. Right after their dad's funeral.
Minji:Don't contact me again.
Juno:Minji, please, I'm sorry—
Minji:You should have awakened. You should have been able to help. But you're useless. Just like always.
Juno:I tried. I'm still trying. Please. Its not like I can control it!!!.
Read. Never answered.
He'd tried calling twice after that. Blocked. He'd gone to her apartment once. The doorman had escorted him out.
His baby sister, who he'd walked to school every day until she was twelve. Who he'd taught to ride a bike. Who'd cried on his shoulder when her first boyfriend dumped her.
Now she was B-rank fire manipulation, 5 sub skills, recruited by the Golden Phoenix Guild, making more money in a month than he'd see in five years. Living in a high-rise in Gangnam. Dating some A-rank tank from the same guild.
And he was... this.
"I should awaken," he said to the duck-rabbit on the ceiling. His voice sounded hollow in the small room. "That's what I should do. Just... awaken. Like it's that easy. Like it's a choice."
Some people awakened during extreme stress. Near-death experiences were common triggers. Others awakened during deep meditation, finding some inner well of power through spiritual enlightenment or whatever. His sister had awakened while taking her college entrance exam—apparently the stress of potentially disappointing their parents had unlocked fire manipulation and a free ride to success.
Juno had tried everything. Meditation retreats he couldn't afford. Extreme exercise until he'd passed out. That sketchy "awakening seminar" run by a guy who claimed to be a former S-rank but was actually just a con artist with good Photoshop skills—₩50,000 gone and nothing to show for it but a pamphlet about "inner potential."
He'd even put himself in dangerous situations, hoping stress would trigger something. Picked fights with guys twice his size. Jumped off progressively higher places into water. Nearly drowned once.
Nothing. Some people just didn't have it in them.
He was one of them. The statistics were clear: 80% of the global population had awakened since the first gates appeared twenty years ago. That meant 20% were like him—normal. Powerless. Irrelevant.
The world had split into two groups: those who mattered and those who didn't.
Guess which group Juno belonged to.
"I could start a business," he mused, eyes drifting shut. The exhaustion was hitting him now, pulling him down like an anchor. "Something simple. Something... peaceful. Something that doesn't involve running from monsters or getting yelled at by managers or watching Awakeners save the day while I cower in the corner."
The image came unbidden: a tea shop. Traditional style, like the ones he'd seen in documentaries about Japan. The cha-no-yu tea ceremony. Tatami mats, low tables, the quiet ritual of preparing matcha. The kind of place where everything moved slowly and deliberately, where every gesture had meaning and purpose.
Where stress went to die.
He'd wanted that today. After the second delivery customer had yelled at him for being two minutes late because of traffic. After his manager at the convenience store had "forgotten" to pay him for last week again. After running for his life from a monster while Awakeners like that girl handled it without breaking a sweat, without even caring that someone had almost died.
He'd wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere his. Somewhere he could make the rules and nobody could take it away from him.
"Yeah," he whispered to the darkness. "A tea shop. Traditional. Peaceful. No gates. No monsters. No Awakeners making me feel like garbage just by existing. Just... tea. And quiet. That'd be nice."
Sleep pulled at him, heavy and dark and welcome.
And then—
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT SYSTEM ACTIVATING...]
[SCANNING USER...]
[WELCOME, USER: KIM JUNO]
Juno's eyes snapped open.
Glowing blue text hung in the air above his face. Not on a screen. Not a hologram. Just... there. Floating in midair like something out of a video game. Three-dimensional letters that cast a faint light across his cramped apartment.
He blinked. The text remained.
He blinked again, harder. Still there.
"...The hell?"
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED AS THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT]
[ANALYZING USER DESIRES...]
[DESIRE DETECTED: "TEA SHOP - TRADITIONAL STYLE"]
[DESIRE INTENSITY: HIGH]
[EMOTIONAL RESONANCE: EXTREME]
[GENERATING INITIAL SHOP SETUP...]
"Okay, I've finally lost it," Juno said to the empty room. "This is a mental breakdown. I'm having a stress-induced psychotic episode. That's fine. That's totally fine. At least hallucinations don't charge rent."
[THIS IS NOT A HALLUCINATION]
[PERSONAL DIMENSION CREATED: 100M² BASE SPACE]
[SHOP TYPE: TRADITIONAL TEA HOUSE (JAPANESE STYLE)]
[BASIC FURNISHINGS PROVIDED]
[DIMENSIONAL STABILITY: 100%]
[SHOP RULES ESTABLISHING...]
The air in front of Juno rippled like heat haze, distorting the view of his tiny kitchenette. Reality bent. Folded. Twisted in a way that made his eyes hurt and his stomach lurch.
A door appeared—not in the wall where a door should be, just floating in the middle of his crappy apartment like someone had copy-pasted it from a completely different world.
Wooden, traditional, beautiful. Dark wood polished to a subtle gleam, with a small sliding panel near the top made of rice paper that glowed with warm light from the other side. The kind of door that belonged to a historical temple or a rich person's traditional house, not a shitty studio apartment in a shitty neighbourhood.
The kind of door that definitely, absolutely should not exist.
Juno sat up slowly, his heart hammering. This was real. The door was real. He could see it, solid and impossible, standing in his apartment like it had always been there.
[FIRST QUEST RECEIVED]
[QUEST: SERVE YOUR FIRST CUSTOMER]
[TIME LIMIT: 24 HOURS]
[REWARD: BASIC ABILITY UNLOCK, ₩100,000]
[PENALTY FOR FAILURE: DEATH]
Juno read that last part three times.
"Death," he said aloud, his voice cracking slightly. "The penalty is death. As in, I die. As in, I stop existing."
[CORRECT. THE SYSTEM REQUIRES COMMITMENT.]
[HALF-MEASURES BREED FAILURE.]
[FULL COMMITMENT BREEDS SUCCESS.]
[YOU WISHED FOR POWER. POWER DEMANDS SACRIFICE.]
"I could just... not open the door," Juno said, staring at the impossible thing. "I could ignore this. Go back to sleep. Wake up and it'll be gone and I'll just be regular crazy instead of magical-system crazy."
[INCORRECT.]
[THE BOND HAS BEEN FORMED.]
[THE QUEST HAS BEEN ISSUED.]
[FAILURE TO COMPLETE THE QUEST WITHIN 24 HOURS WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION.]
[YOU HAVE 23:58:47 REMAINING.]
A timer appeared in the corner of his vision, counting down. Persistent. Undeniable.
Juno looked at the floating door. Looked at his cracked phone showing Manager Kim's firing text. Looked at his banking app showing ₩127,000 and a future that consisted of more monster attacks, more part-time jobs that fired him, more watching Awakeners get everything while he got nothing.
More of this.
His sister's face flashed through his mind. The last time he'd seen her, at the hospital, standing over their mother's bed. Their mother was unconscious, hooked up to machines that beeped and whirred, trying to filter the mana that was slowly killing her from the inside.
Minji had looked at him across that hospital bed, her eyes red from crying but hard with something else. Something like contempt.
"If you had awakened," she'd said, her voice quiet and cold, "you could have helped when the gate broke. You could have fought with Dad instead of hiding behind him like a coward. Maybe he'd still be alive."
"That's not fair," Juno had whispered. "I tried. I didn't choose to be—"
"Useless?" Minji finished. "Yeah. You didn't choose it. But you are. And Dad paid the price."
She'd walked out. Changed her number that night.
And Juno had been alone ever since.
He stood up slowly, his legs shaky. Walked toward the door on bare feet, the floor cold beneath him. Put his hand on the handle.
It was warm. Smooth. Real. Solid wood under his palm, worn smooth by use despite being brand new.
"Okay," Juno said quietly. "Okay. If this is real, then I do it. If I'm crazy, then I'm crazy and it doesn't matter anyway. And if I die..." He laughed, the sound bitter. "Well. At least it'll be different than just existing."
He pulled the door open.
The dimension beyond took his breath away.
Juno stepped through onto polished wooden floors that gleamed in soft, sourceless light. The space was... impossible to describe. It felt both enclosed and infinite, like standing inside a building that existed in its own bubble of reality.
The walls were made of traditional shoji screens, rice paper stretched over wooden frames, glowing with gentle illumination that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The ceiling was high, crossed with dark wooden beams that gave the space structure and elegance.
In the center of the room sat a low table made of rich, dark wood, surrounded by cushions that looked hand-embroidered with simple but beautiful patterns. Beside the table, a small preparation area held everything he could possibly need for the tea ceremony: a kettle made of cast iron, its surface textured with raised patterns; bowls of different sizes, each one slightly different in glaze and shape; containers of tea that he somehow knew held sencha, matcha, hojicha, and more.
A bamboo ladle rested beside a water basin carved from a single piece of stone. A small shelf held tea utensils—a whisk made of bamboo, a scoop, a cloth for cleaning.
Everything was pristine. Perfect. Like someone had reached into his mind, found that documentary he'd watched three months ago when he couldn't sleep, that image of peace and purpose and beauty he'd desperately wanted, and made it real.
The air smelled like bamboo and fresh tatami and something he couldn't quite name. Something clean.
[WELCOME TO YOUR DIMENSIONAL SHOP]
[CURRENT FEATURES:]
- 100M² INTERIOR SPACE
- BASIC TEA PREPARATION EQUIPMENT (TIER 1)]
- SELF-CLEANING FUNCTION (AUTOMATIC)]
- TEMPORAL STASIS (FOOD/DRINK REMAINS FRESH INDEFINITELY)]
- TRANSLATION FIELD (ALL CUSTOMERS UNDERSTAND/SPEAK YOUR LANGUAGE WITHIN THE SHOP)]
- DIMENSIONAL STABILITY FIELD (SHOP CANNOT BE DAMAGED BY CONVENTIONAL MEANS)]
-DISGUISE ( YOU DON'T HAVE TO WEAR IT)
[SHOP RULES ESTABLISHED:]
NO VIOLENCE WITHIN THE SHOP (VIOLATORS WILL BE AUTOMATICALLY EXPELLED)] PAYMENT MUST BE RENDERED FOR SERVICES (AMOUNT DETERMINED BY MERCHANT)] THE MERCHANT'S WORD IS LAW WITHIN THEIR DIMENSION CUSTOMERS CANNOT REMAIN IN THE SHOP FOR MORE THAN 6 HOURS WITHOUT MERCHANT PERMISSION THEFT IS IMPOSSIBLE (ITEMS CANNOT LEAVE THE SHOP WITHOUT MERCHANT APPROVAL)]
[ADDITIONAL FEATURES LOCKED]
[COMPLETE QUESTS TO UNLOCK ABILITIES AND EXPAND YOUR SHOP]
Juno turned in a slow circle, his bare feet warm against the wood. This was insane. This was impossible.
This was beautiful.
For the first time in three years—since his dad died, since his sister stopped talking to him, since the world split into Awakeners and everyone else—something was actually his.
Not rented. Not borrowed. Not something that could be taken away by a landlord or a manager or the universe's cruel sense of humor.
His.
"Okay," he breathed, his voice shaking slightly. "Okay. I can do this. I can serve one customer. How hard can that be?"
[GATE PLACEMENT AVAILABLE]
[GATES ALLOW CUSTOMERS TO ENTER YOUR SHOP FROM OTHER DIMENSIONS/LOCATIONS]
[CURRENT AVAILABLE GATES: 1]
[PLACE YOUR FIRST GATE NOW]
A new window appeared, showing a 3D map of Seoul. His apartment building was marked with a pulsing blue dot. The surrounding neighborhood spread out in intricate detail—every street, every building, every alley rendered in perfect clarity.
A blinking cursor hovered over his location, waiting for input.
"Can I make it... inconspicuous?" Juno asked the system. "Like, not screaming 'mysterious dimensional portal here, come get murdered by whatever's inside'?"
[GATES CAN BE DISGUISED AS ORDINARY DOORS/ENTRANCES]
[ONLY THOSE WITH POTENTIAL WILL NOTICE THEM]
[ONLY THOSE IN NEED WILL BE DRAWN TO THEM]
[YOUR FIRST CUSTOMER WILL FIND YOU]
"Right. Okay. Ominous but helpful." Juno studied the map, zooming in on his neighborhood. There—an old house about two blocks from his apartment. It had been empty for months, scheduled for demolition but stuck in some kind of permit hell. Nobody paid attention to it anymore.
Perfect.
He selected the location. The map blinked in confirmation.
[GATE PLACED: HANNAM-DONG DISTRICT, EMPTY RESIDENCE]
[GATE DISGUISE: TRADITIONAL ENTRANCE]
[GATE STATUS: ACTIVE]
[QUEST TIMER: 23:47:33]
[GOOD LUCK, MERCHANT KIM JUNO]
The system windows faded, leaving Juno alone in his tea shop. His impossible, dimensional, possibly-going-to-get-him-killed-if-he-failed tea shop.
He stood there for a long moment, just breathing. Taking it in.
Then he looked down at himself—still in his boxers, covered in scrapes and bruises from his earlier chase, his hair a mess, probably smelling like rain and fear and failure.
"Right," Juno said to the empty shop. "Probably should put on pants before my first customer arrives. And maybe learn how to actually make tea. That seems important."
He went back through the door to his apartment—which was still there, still depressing, reality not having gotten the memo that his life had just become weird—and grabbed the cleanest clothes he had. Black pants, a simple gray shirt. Not traditional, but clean.
He washed his face and hands in cold water, wincing as the scrapes stung. Ran wet fingers through his hair to tame it slightly.
Then he went back through the door, and it closed behind him with a soft click.
The shop waited, perfect and serene.
Juno walked to the preparation area and picked up one of the tea containers. Matcha. He knew the basics from that documentary—he'd watched it five times because it was free and soothing and made him feel like maybe there was a world where things moved slowly and purposefully instead of spiraling constantly into chaos.
Boil water. Measure tea. Whisk until frothy. Serve with both hands, with respect.
He could do this.
He had to do this.
The alternative was death, and he'd had enough of that in his life already.
[ELSEWHERE - 11:47 PM]
Park Minho was having a pretty good day, all things considered.
The C-rank gate had been a joke. Fifteen Gremlars and one Corrupted Hound, handled in under twenty minutes by his five-person party. He'd barely needed to use his defensive skills—his party's DPS had shredded through the monsters like they were made of tissue paper.
The loot had been decent too. A few mana stones, some crafting materials that would sell well on the Exchange. His share came out to about ₩340,000 for less than an hour of work.
He'd even leveled up. C-rank to C+. The system notification had been satisfying:
[LEVEL UP! C+ RANK ACHIEVED]
[NEW SKILL AVAILABLE: IRON FORTRESS (TIER 2)]
Not bad for a Wednesday night raid.
Now he was walking home through his neighborhood at nearly midnight, still riding the high of a successful gate closure. His phone buzzed constantly with congratulations from his guild mates. His bank account had just received the automatic deposit from the Association for the gate closure bonus. Life was good.
His apartment was only two blocks away. Tomorrow he'd sleep in, maybe hit the gym, check in with his guild about the B-rank gate scheduled for the weekend. Easy money. Easy life.
Then he saw it.
A house he'd passed a hundred times before. Empty, abandoned, scheduled for demolition. One of those sad places that reminded everyone that not everything survived Seoul's constant construction and reconstruction.
Except now there was a door.
Not just any door. A traditional entrance, beautiful in its simplicity. Wood and rice paper, glowing with warm light from within. And beside it, a small sign written in elegant calligraphy that he could somehow read despite the darkness:
"Tea House. Open."
Minho stopped dead in his tracks.
He'd lived in this neighbourhood for three years. That house had been empty the entire time—broken windows, overgrown yard, "Keep Out" signs posted by the city.
And that door... it didn't match. Everything about the old house was modern Korean construction from the '90s, concrete and cheap materials slowly falling apart. But that door looked like it belonged to a historical preservation site. A temple. Something important.
He should keep walking. It was late. He was tired. He had training tomorrow.
But something about the warm light, the quiet invitation of that sign, the way the door seemed to exist in its own bubble of calm despite the urban chaos around it...
"One cup," Minho muttered to himself. "Just to see what this is about. Probably some hipster pop-up thing."
He walked up to the door, his hand reaching out almost on its own.
The moment his fingers touched the handle, something shifted. A tingle ran up his arm, not unpleasant but definitely not normal. His Awakener senses, usually quiet in non-combat situations, suddenly perked up.
This was not a normal door.
But his curiosity was stronger than his caution. He was C+ rank. He could handle whatever weird thing this was.
Park Minho opened the door.
And stepped into somewhere else entirely.