Early morning light filtered in gently through the office windows. Minjae sat by himself at his desk in that quiet space. The city hummed softly outside the glass panels. Inside the tall sleek building, a different sort of calm filled the air. That calm came from focused work and heavy unspoken worries. His recent promotion to senior business analyst rested on him like a weight that pulled both ways. It confirmed his skills in a clear obvious manner. At the same time, it twisted the sense of duty deeper inside. He understood what people expected from him now. He had to guide the team with real efficiency. He needed to spot market shifts early on before anyone else noticed. And he had to explain things with that steady confident tone, as if he always saw the path ahead.
Still, his thoughts drifted to other places right then. They got caught between endless spreadsheets and something ancient compared to business ups and downs. That pull went deeper than old memories could reach. It murmured softly under the steady glow of the overhead lights.
He pressed his fingers to his temples in slow steady motions. Last night brought him only four hours of rest at most. This morning meant acting like the exhaustion came purely from office demands.
---
Seori came over without much noise. Her steps made a gentle pattern on the shiny floor. She paused at his desk and placed a hot cup of coffee next to his keyboard. She stayed silent for a moment at first. Her gaze seemed to take in his face. She noticed the slight tightness along his jawline.
You have been pushing yourself too hard these days. She said that at last. Her tone stayed soft overall. Yet it carried a clear note of concern.
Minjae let out a quiet breath of thanks. Thanks. Just a lot to think about right now.
That is what you always tell me. She answered with a small smile. That look pushed him a bit. It reminded him of something he seldom owned up to. She understood his moods better than almost anyone else did.
He closed his hands around the warmth of the cup. Seori did not linger too long. Her being there helped steady him for that short while. It felt odd how such a basic exchange could ground someone. Especially when his days split so sharply between his current self and the person from before.
Once she headed back to her own spot, Minjae found his eyes fixed on the coffee. He lifted it for a careful sip. The heat moved through his body slowly. It eased a tension built up from so many solitary evenings.
---
A short time later, Yura swept by his workspace with her typical bright energy following close. She gave the edge of his desk a light tap with her papers. Her smile held a playful edge to it.
You saw the newest report already. She leaned in a touch as she said it. Those odd data points keep showing up everywhere. It feels like the market follows some secret cue.
Minjae glanced over the sheets once more. He had nearly committed their quirks to memory by now. I am keeping close tabs on them. A pattern exists for sure. It just has not sharpened into focus yet.
Yura tipped her head with obvious amusement. It is interesting how these small oddities can point to bigger things beyond plain figures. Huh.
Minjae lifted one brow in response. She liked to prod at him that way. Especially on days when she picked up on his restraint. That happened more often than not, for good or ill.
He gave her just a vague smile in return.
Do not wear yourself out completely. She tossed that in with ease. Your mind matters a great deal. It can get pretty intense too, fueled only by coffee and data grids.
A real quiet laugh escaped him then. Got it.
Fine. She showed a pleased grin and kept going on her way.
Alone with the numbers once more, Minjae looked hard at the screen. Those unusual swings in the data caught his eye again. They echoed shifts he recognized from other contexts. Places well away from trading screens and charts. The rises and falls brought back how Vitalia reacted to feelings. Like waves spreading out in water from some hidden push.
Coincidence. Maybe.
Minjae did not put much stock in pure chance these days.
---
He kept a secret none of his coworkers suspected—one that would unravel everything if discovered. A hidden research space outside company grounds, acquired discreetly under an alias, stocked with equipment he cobbled together from both modern technology and memories of another life. A place far from the corporate campus where he could try to coax out something ancient inside him.
Vitalia. The will of life.
The word alone carried warmth, nostalgia, and danger.
His latest experiment in the secluded lab had sparked a faint flicker—just a momentary glow, like a dying ember reigniting before fading. He had watched it pulse weakly in his palm, the sensation threading through him like a distant echo of something vast and powerful.
But the activation remained unstable.
"Why is it so fleeting?" he whispered to himself, alone in the dim lab. His human voice sounded strange amid the sterile equipment—too small, too fragile.
He repeated the initiation cycle again, fine-tuning parameters, adjusting temperature, pressure, and the calibrated sensitivity of the detection device. The faint glow responded, but it was irregular, almost nervous, as though reacting to something emotional rather than mechanical.
"Emotion?" he muttered. "That can't be the catalyst… can it?"
His fingers twitched involuntarily when the glow flickered out. The sudden absence of warmth left an emptiness he couldn't shake.
Each attempt brought him closer, yet the key remained out of reach. Like chasing a shadow that moved only when he blinked.
---
Back in the office, the market's behavior seemed to mimic his experiments: unpredictable, erratic, resistant to existing models. Consumer trends shifted without clear external triggers, and logistics networks behaved in ways that analysts couldn't explain.
The anomalies fascinated him—not because of financial implications but because they felt strangely familiar.
Almost alive.
But he couldn't be certain if that connection was real… or simply the projection of someone desperate for answers.
---
Later that afternoon, Yuri paused by his desk. She had a clipboard under her arm, but her eyes drifted to the dark circles under his.
"Long hours aren't new for you," she said with a note of gentle reprimand. "But make sure you don't overdo it."
Minjae leaned back slightly, trying to look less worn than he felt. "I appreciate the concern."
"You should," she replied, lips curling into a soft but sincere smile. "You're an important part of the team. We can't have you collapsing on us."
He let out a breath somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. "I won't collapse."
"Good." She tapped the clipboard lightly as if sealing the statement. "But try to pace yourself, okay?"
Her concern reminded him—more sharply than he expected—of the delicate balance he was walking. His coworkers saw stress and long hours; they didn't see the fractured nights, the flickering Vitalia, the constant effort to control the remnants of a past life simmering beneath his skin.
And he hoped they never would.
---
As dusk settled over the city, the office slowly emptied. Conversations faded. Lights dimmed. Keyboard clacking dwindled to a few isolated clicks.
Minjae remained at his desk, the quiet forming a cocoon around him. Solitude, strangely enough, felt both comforting and suffocating.
He stared at the small device he kept partially hidden under his folders—a compact monitor designed to detect energy shifts. He brushed his fingers over its surface, hesitating before lifting it slightly.
"What exactly triggers it?" he murmured. "What am I missing?"
He remembered the last flicker clearly. The warmth. The pulse. The moment his focus sharpened into something beyond human logic—an instinct, almost. But every time he tried to recreate that sensation mechanically, it failed.
Vitalia wasn't data to be computed. It wasn't code to be executed.
It responded to something else… something he couldn't name without acknowledging parts of himself he had spent this life trying to suppress.
His eyes drifted toward the darkened window. His reflection stared back—human on the surface, but concealing a secret history beneath.
A deep breath. One more attempt.
He placed the device on his palm and closed his fingers gently around it. The metal felt cold, indifferent.
"Focus," he whispered. "Calm."
He inhaled slowly, reaching inward. Past the fatigue. Past the tangled stress. Past the fear that he might never understand this part of himself again.
Nothing happened at first.
Then—
a faint warmth.
A pulse.
A spark just beneath the skin.
He opened his eyes.
The device glimmered faintly. Not bright, not strong—but steady.
His heartbeat quickened. This was different. Stable. Controlled. A spark responding not to emotion alone but to… clarity.
He maintained the focus, breathing deliberately. The glow remained, flickering like a timid flame testing the air.
But then—someone's footsteps echoed down the hallway.
In an instant, the warmth vanished. The glow snapped out like a flame extinguished by wind.
Minjae straightened, pulse racing. He slipped the device back under his folders just as Yura appeared around the corner, a half-eaten sandwich in hand.
"Oh, you're still here?" she asked, surprised. "You didn't even take a dinner break."
Minjae forced a calm smile. "I lost track of time."
Yura narrowed her eyes suspiciously—though not for the reasons he feared. "You really need hobbies outside of work."
He chuckled softly. "I'll work on that."
"Do that." She waved casually and strolled off.
Only once she disappeared did Minjae let out a long breath.
The spark. The brief stability. It meant something.
He wasn't imagining patterns or chasing ghosts.
He was close.
Too close to stop now.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the quiet settle over him again. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the city lights flickered like distant stars.
Vitalia. The life force. The will.
It responded when he aligned something inside himself—something he barely understood.
And if tonight's flicker meant anything…
He might finally be on the verge of bringing that ancient power back into the modern world, one controlled breath at a time.