“At around 1 P.M. today, a group of monsters appeared in Seoul, leaving 500 wounded and 8 dead.”

Switch.

“Through the heroic sacrifices of Cube Cadets, the museum terrorism has not been exacerbated."

Switch.

"One Cube Cadet Dead. One Cube Cadet Injured. The Djinn Attack continues to spread fear to the masses. They are asking. Who is next?”

Switch.

“The young chaebol Chae Nayun is currently in intensive care—”

Switch.

“According to investigations, the monsters are led by an intermediate rank, grade 1 monster called Beast Inciter. This man-sized, badger-shaped monster has never before appeared in Korea. The association believes a third party brought it in through illegal channels and has set out a search.”

I turned off the TV, feeling a strange calmness despite the chaos. It was like my mind was in "calm disarray"—a contradiction that somehow fit perfectly. A weirdly accurate way to describe it, I guess. I was shaken, yet too still. Numb, maybe. But I couldn’t afford to let myself get more unhinged or quiet at the same time.

Suppressing the storm inside me was this cold, hard reasoning: whatever this is… it’s one of those unforeseeable events. One you can never truly prepare for. Not fully. Not in a world like this. Heck, even Kim Hajin, the protagonist of The Novel’s Extra, wouldn’t have been ready for this. Not this twist.

No amount of preparation could’ve stopped what happened back then.

We weren't ready. I wasn’t ready.

This future had become tangent, separate from the tales of the original The Returnee Hero by Kim Hajin and the remake The Novel’s Extra by Jee Gab Song. From now on, I could only move forward without relying too much on the plot developments of the prior timelines.

Still, this didn’t change what I had to do. I had to continue getting stronger.

For someone like me—weak and underprepared—safe choices were a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had no resources, and that was my biggest weakness. I could only hope that Yeonha might be a bit kinder in the future and throw me some cash.

But honestly, it was probably better to save that favor for later. Let it appreciate over time. Still, there was no guarantee she’d even remember me by then.

Lying there in the hospital bed, I found myself reflecting on my first real combat experience. Yeah, I made mistakes—plenty of them. But that was to be expected. I was a beginner, after all. The good thing was that I’d managed to stay alert, to adjust mid-fight, which ultimately kept me alive. My ability to dodge attacks was definitely a lifesaver. No matter how slow I seemed to move, I always found a way to slip away, thanks to the quirks of my Gift. Invisibility had its perks, both offensively and defensively. Not to mention the power to distort perception.

For now, though, I knew what I needed to work on—my magic power and my stamina. If I could improve my magic, I’d be more effective in combat. And stamina? That would keep me alive longer. But with my arm in a cast and my legs feeling like jelly, training wasn’t exactly on the table. Even walking seemed out of reach for a while.

So instead of forcing it, I decided to focus on something else—mental training. I figured I could improve my magic through meditation and mental exercises. I needed to get stronger, one way or another. And hard work? It never betrayed anyone.

***

Kim Hajin stood frozen, watching in silent disbelief as Chae Nayun became engulfed in the flames of the Djinn. How could this be happening? It was unfair, and it infuriated him to no end. His frustration boiled over, and without hesitation, he unleashed a barrage of bullets.

~Bang! ~Bang!

The Djinn was hugging Nayun, unleashing waves of demonic flames that threatened to consume everything in their path. Hajin didn’t know what to do—he felt powerless. The headless Djinn clung to Nayun with a hateful grip, its flames growing stronger. Desperately, Hajin spent the last of his SP to reinforce a bullet, then dashed forward, determined not to miss. He maneuvered to the side, aiming for the Djinn’s exposed ribcage. With a swift motion, he loaded a light attribute bullet and fired.

The bullet pierced through the flames and the Djinn’s defenses, striking where its heart should have been. But even with that, the Djinn refused to release Nayun. It collapsed to its knees, still clinging to her with its fiery embrace.

Hajin, blind with helplessness, ran into the flames. His legs and arms suffered searing burns, but he ignored the pain, gritting his teeth as he dragged Nayun from the inferno. He carried her to safety, the agony in his limbs intensifying with each step. Her burns weren’t as visible as his, but he knew she had been using her vast [Sea of Magic Power] to shield herself from the demonic flames. Despite her best efforts, the disparity in power left her drained.

“You’ve done well…” Hajin whispered, relieved that she was still breathing.

Nayun stirred, her eyelids trembling as she regained consciousness. “H-Hajin?”

He gently placed her down, far from the flames. She glanced at his arms, horrified by the sight of his burns. “I… I’m sorry…” she said, her voice shaking with guilt.

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For some reason, her concern warmed his heart. “Apology rejected,” he replied with a small, teasing smile. And with that, Nayun slipped into unconsciousness again.

The events had unfolded so differently from what Hajin remembered. No—this world had deviated too far from the plot he had written. It boded ill for the future. His realization struck him hard. The Returnee Hero had always seemed lenient, with Kim Suho overcoming challenges with relative ease. But now, Hajin saw how naive that thinking was. The world was far more unforgiving.

His thoughts were interrupted by the grotesque laughter of the remaining Djinn. “Heh~! What fun! Kekekekeke~”

Disgusted, Hajin approached the decapitated head. His hand trembled slightly as he aimed his gun at it, point-blank. “Any last words?”

The Djinn snickered. “Pfft… What’s the point? Listen closely—the end of the world is near! I AM JUST THE BEGINNING!”

~Bang!

Hajin silenced the Djinn with a single shot.

The memory faded, but the ringing in his ears didn’t stop. ~Triing! Riiiing! The haunting recollection of those events woke him up abruptly. It was a terrible memory, one that kept invading his thoughts every time he drifted to sleep.

He felt weak, not just physically, but in a deeper, more unsettling way. The future loomed over him like a storm cloud, filled with uncertainties and changes he couldn’t predict. It was suffocating. For the first time, Kim Hajin felt truly and desperately helpless.

Chae Nayun had grown stronger, but so had their enemies. There were more changes to come, and Hajin knew he had to prepare for the worst. He couldn’t rely on the plot anymore; this world had already veered off course.

With determination, Hajin stood up from his hospital bed, despite the bandages covering his arms and legs. His body was battered, but it would heal. What mattered now was that he needed to leave—there was no time to waste. He had to grow stronger, to prepare for the challenges that lay ahead. He couldn’t afford to stay here, idle, while the world moved on without him.

***

"Die." The word echoed in Kim Suho's mind, just as it had when he drove his sword into the Djinn. That memory kept surfacing, pulling him into a daze. "Die." The thought returned again as he took another left on his way to the auditorium, his footsteps heavy.

He wasn’t fully healed yet; the puncture wounds on his body still stung with each step. But none of that mattered now. He had to go. He’d never experienced dread like this before. He knew death—he’d fought it, faced it—but a funeral? That was unfamiliar territory. The weight of it felt different.

As he entered the auditorium, the first thing he saw was the hologram of Ryeo Dae. Her face, projected for everyone to see, seemed almost unreal. The room was filled with cadets and instructors, all dressed in black. The atmosphere was suffocating in its silence, broken only by hushed whispers and the occasional sniffle.

Kim Suho wandered aimlessly through the crowd, his mind grappling with the purpose of a funeral. What was it for? A celebration? That thought seemed morbid. He sighed as he approached the grieving family, unsure of what he should say. What could he possibly say that would ease their pain?

"Hey, you..."

A small voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned and saw a little girl, her resemblance to Ryeo Dae striking. His heart clenched, not from his physical wounds, but from something deeper. What was he supposed to say? How could he comfort her when he could barely understand his own feelings?

"I want to blame you." Her voice was flat, emotionless. The words were cutting, each one landing like a sharp blade. "Why is my sister dead? Why are you alive? Why didn’t you save her? Why did that have to happen?"

Kim Suho stood there, speechless. Every question she asked felt like a direct blow to his already aching heart. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

"I want to bawl, cry, blame you..." The little girl’s head bowed as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. "But I won’t." Tears spilled down her cheeks, even as her voice remained eerily calm. "Because..."

She tried wiping her face, though her head stayed lowered, hiding her tears from him. "Because..." she repeated, her voice shaky as she struggled to continue. "Because this is a farewell for my sister... I won’t blame you... This day... This day is only for my big sister..."

For a little girl, she was surprisingly eloquent.

Kim Suho felt like he was being crushed as if the weight of her pain was too much for him to bear. It was worse than any wound, worse than any fight he’d ever been in. The guilt and sorrow wrapped around him, suffocating him.

The little girl raised her head. Her cheeks were still wet, her eyes red and puffy from crying, but there were no more tears. She had a look of forced composure, the kind that only came from experiencing loss far too early in life.

And then, it hit him. Funerals weren’t just about death. They were about saying goodbye. "Ah... so that’s what funerals are for..." Suho realized, bitterness creeping into his thoughts. A farewell.

He hadn’t come here to mourn death. He’d come to say goodbye.

And Kim Suho, standing amidst the grief, wanted to say goodbye too. But the words caught in his throat, just as they had before.

***

Shin Jonghak wasn’t there when it happened. By the time he learned of the incident, everything had already unfolded. The Djinn attack, the battle, Chae Nayun’s injury—it all reached his ears like a distant, surreal nightmare. His heart pounded with dread and anger. He couldn’t believe it. Nayun? Injured? Comatose? He had to see her. Now.

Without wasting a second, Jonghak stormed out of Cube, rushing to the hospital where Chae Nayun had been taken. His thoughts were in turmoil. She was supposed to be invincible, just like him. The idea of her being hurt felt like an affront to everything he believed in—like the world itself had gone mad.

When he arrived at the hospital, he was greeted by an unexpected blockade: bodyguards. They stood in front of the entrance, a silent wall of authority preventing anyone unauthorized from getting through. Jonghak’s frustration flared instantly. He wasn’t just anyone. He was Shin Jonghak.

“I’m here to see Chae Nayun,” he announced, stepping forward with all the confidence of a man who never accepted ‘no’ for an answer. “Move.”

The bodyguards didn’t budge. “We have strict orders not to let anyone in,” one of them said flatly.

Jonghak’s eyes flashed with indignation. “I am Shin Jonghak! Do you know who I am?”

The guards exchanged a glance, unfazed by his outburst. “We do, sir,” one of them replied coolly, “but Miss Chae’s condition is critical. No visitors allowed.”

Jonghak clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. How dare they? How dare they stand between him and Chae Nayun? He had known her since they were children. If anyone had a right to be by her side, it was him. Not some strangers in suits.

“I said, move!” he repeated, his voice rising as he stepped closer to the guards.

One of them raised a hand, blocking his advance. “Please, don’t make this difficult. We’re just doing our job.”

Jonghak’s temper flared. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to push past them, to force his way inside. But he hesitated, not because he was afraid of a fight, but because deep down, a small voice of reason whispered that this wasn’t the time. Chae Nayun was hurt—seriously hurt—and as much as it stung his pride, barging in wouldn’t help her.

For a moment, he just stood there, seething in frustration. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his heart heavy with a bitter mix of worry and anger.