“Go to sleep, Jung.”

Jagger let the curtain fall back into place as he turned slightly, the faint glow of the streetlights cutting off behind the fabric.

Jung froze mid-step, caught.

“Hyeong-nim…” His voice came out low, uncertain. “I was hoping to have a talk with you?”

Jagger raised a brow, studying him for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.

“Why do you call me that?” he asked. “Pretty sure you’re older than me.”

Jung scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Respect. You saved our lives. And the way you move… it feels like you’ve already been through things we haven’t even seen yet.”

He hesitated, then added, quieter, “Also… I’m nineteen.”

Jagger blinked once.

“…You’re a year older than me?” he said, disbelief flickering across his face. “I thought you’d be older, with all that muscle and being tall and all.” The faint smile he’d been holding back finally broke through.

Jung’s grin widened, relief softening the tension in his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m a power lifter. Or was, anyway. Before all this.” He walks over and stands beside Jagger at the window, then gestures vaguely toward the sleeping forms of the others. “Each and every one of us is far away from home. Just thinking about my family, if they’re okay or not.” He let out a short, humorless breath. “What can I do but to accept the worst outcome… but still hope for the best.” He added quietly.

“You can’t think of them anymore…” Jagger said bluntly. “Right now, all you can do for yourself and the memory of your loved one is to survive.” His gaze hardened slightly. “Do you have what it takes to survive?”

Jung looked at him, the humor gone from his expression now. The question hung in the air between them, heavier than it sounded.

“Do I have what it takes?” Jung repeated, his voice softer, almost like he was asking himself. Then he looked toward the others, at the sleeping forms that had depended on him.

“You already do.” Jagger responded, “Standing at the forefront when facing a monster far out of your league to protect the rest. ” He turned slightly and looked Jung straight in the eye. “That’s proof enough.”

“How can that be enough? I’m not strong.” The question came out quickly, “I froze when I needed to act,” he continued, his voice tightening despite his effort to keep it steady. “I don’t want to stand there waiting for someone like you to save me. I don’t want to be useless.” His hands clenched faintly at his sides before he forced them still. “I want to protect people,” he added, quieter now. “Like you did.”

Jagger didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back against the wall, arms folding loosely as his gaze drifted for a second before returning to Jung.

“Then don’t freeze again,” he said simply.

Jung blinked. “That’s it?”

“You want a speech?” Jagger’s voice was flat. “There’s no secret. You don’t freeze, you don’t die. Simple as that.”

He paused, then added, “I don’t have answers,” Jagger continued. “I’m figuring it out the same way you are. One bad decision at a time.” He paused briefly, then added with a faint, dry edge, “And many of those decisions have put me close to death.” Jagger’s expression settled again, more serious now. “That feeling you had back there… when your body locked up,” he said. “That doesn’t go away.”

Jung frowned slightly. “Then how do you fight through it?”

“You fight anyway, not because you’re not scared, but because you’re more scared of what happens if you don’t.”

Jung held his gaze, something in his expression tightening, then settling into a knowing smile. “That’s… not very inspiring.”

Jagger chuckled, “Not like we’re in a manhwa,” he said. “You don’t suddenly become fearless. You just get used to being afraid and moving at the same time.” He let that sit for a moment. “And sometimes you still mess it up.”

“So, there’s no overpower protagonist?” he chuckled with Jagger, “No shortcut? No special skill that makes everything easier?”

“If there is, make sure to send it my way first,” he shot back. He gave a small nudge, both of them looking over at the other sleeping. “They look up to you,” he said quietly. “Even if they don’t say it.”

Jung’s eyes softened as he watched them. Abdul was snoring softly, one arm thrown over his face, while Nico shifted in his sleep, muttering something incoherent. Soo-min had curled into herself on the couch, her breathing steady, her face free of the tension it carried when she was awake.

“One fight. One decision. One day at a time,” Jung finally repeated softly, as if testing the words. “I think I can do that,” he added quietly, like he was convincing himself as much as he was telling Jagger. He let out a long breath, the remaining tension in his shoulders easing. “One fight at a time. I can do that.”

“Good,” he said. “Because tomorrow you’re getting hit again.”

Jung groaned quietly. “That’s the motivation I get?”

“It’s the only one that matters.” Jagger turned toward the window again, the conversation done. “Now get some sleep. I need you sharp for the morning.”

Jung hesitated for a brief second before nodding. “Alright, Hyeong-nim.” He turned towards Jagger and bowed slightly. “Thank you. For everything.”

Jagger didn’t reply, giving only a small, dismissive wave. “Yeah,” he replied. “Don’t mention it.”

Jung moved to a quiet corner, sitting with his back against the wall, arms resting on his knees.

Jagger stood there for a moment, watching the faint glow of the lantern cast long shadows across the room. The quiet breathing of the others filled the space, a fragile calm settling over them.

‘You give him hope,’ Ophilia murmured.

Jagger didn’t look away. “Hope is all we humans have left,” he said, the words barely audible.

He turned and headed for the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him off from the faint sounds of breathing and the dim glow of the lantern. The space was smaller, colder. The mirror above the sink was cracked down the middle, splitting his reflection into uneven halves.

For a moment, he just stared at himself.

Then he reached up and grabbed the edge of his shirt.

He pulled. The fabric peeled away with a faint, sticky resistance, dried blood cracking as it separated from his skin. He tossed it aside without looking. His gaze dropped to his torso.

Clean. No bite mark, torn flesh, or split skin.

His hand came up slowly, fingers brushing across where the Skitterer’s teeth had sunk into his shoulder. Then lower, across his ribs, where the blade-like strike had carved into him.

“…That’s insane,” he muttered quietly. “Maybe I do have an overpowered MC skill.”

He turned on the tap for the shower. Water sputtered for a second, then ran.

Jagger rolled his eyes and stepped into the tub. He tilted his head back, letting the water cascade over his face and shoulders. It was hot, almost scalding, steam quickly fogging up the small bathroom, clinging to the cracked mirror. He stood still for a long moment, eyes closed, letting the heat soak into tired muscles, washing away the grime and the dried blood in rivulets that swirled around the drain.

Ophilia’s presence sharpened in his mind. ‘You are enjoying this,’

Jagger let out a slow breath as the hot water ran down his face, tracing along the lines of his jaw before dripping from his chin. “Enjoying what?” he asked, voice low, almost lost beneath the steady hiss of the shower.

‘The pain. The survival. The growth.’ Her tone was quiet, but there was something beneath it now. Not mockery. Not quite. ‘You are adapting faster than you should.’

He dragged a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back as he leaned one palm against the tiled wall. The heat seeped into his muscles, loosening the tension that had coiled tight after the fight.

“I’m not enjoying it,” he said after a moment. “I’m just not dying.”

‘That is not the same thing.’

Jagger didn’t respond immediately. The water continued to run, steam thickening the air until the edges of the room blurred. His reflection in the cracked mirror was barely visible now, fractured shapes behind fog.

“…You said I was a vessel,” he muttered. “A convergence point.”

‘Yes.’

“And this… Entity Resonance thing,” he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s how I find the others. The ones like you.”

A pause. Then, simply, ‘Yes.’

Jagger exhaled through his nose. “So, the more I find… the stronger I get.”

‘Strength is not guaranteed,’ Ophilia said. ‘You are not collecting tools. You are inviting wills into yourself. Each one will want something. Each one will push back.’

The water continued to run, but it suddenly felt colder.

‘Too many,’ she continued, ‘and you fracture.’

Jagger’s fingers curled slightly against the tile. “So… The more of you, the less control I have over myself, sounds fun.”

Jagger reached forward and turned the water off. The sudden absence of sound made the room feel smaller. Tighter. Only the faint drip of water remained, echoing softly against tile.

He stepped out, grabbing a towel and running it through his hair before wiping down his arms and torso. His skin was clean now. No blood. No grime. No wounds.

He glanced at the mirror again. Split reflection. Two halves that didn’t quite align.

“…Splintered One,” he muttered.

‘Fitting, isn’t it?’

Jagger didn’t answer. He changed into the clothes stored in his inventory, pulling on a pair of black shorts and a black shirt. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he walked over and sank back into the armchair. Soo-min slept soundly beside him on the couch. On the other side, Nico and Abdul were already out, Nico clutching Abdul’s hairy calf and using it as a pillow. Across from them, Jung sat with his head bowed onto his arms, resting on his knees, the faintest hint of snoring slipping out.

Jagger sat there in the near-darkness, awake, watching and listening.

The faint hum of the electric lantern filled the space alongside the slow, steady breathing of the others, while beyond the walls, the city remained hollow and unmoving.

“If you’re tired, you can rest. I can keep watch,” Soo-min whispered, her eye fluttering open.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep