Fang sat on the edge of his bed, the scolding from his mother fading behind him. The house had returned to its usual noise—utensils clattering, TV murmuring, Minari shouting from the bathroom about hot water—but his mind was locked on only one thing.
The number.
That impossible, endless string of nines glowing faintly beneath his skin.
He rubbed his wrist again. It wasn't a tattoo. It wasn't ink. It wasn't even light. It felt like something alive. Every time he blinked, the number seemed longer, as if it was stretching into infinity.
"Why do I have this…?" he whispered.
There was no answer, only the dull hum of the fan above him.
He leaned back, his heartbeat steady, but his mind racing. In his previous life, he was nowhere near this. He had no powers, no system, nothing special beyond his stubborn will to survive until the end. So why was this number appearing now, after reincarnation?
He stood and walked to the small mirror on his desk. The reflection staring back wasn't different. Same messy hair, same tired eyes, same slightly crooked collarbone from a training injury he never told his mother about. But the wrist glowed like a secret only he was allowed to see.
Maybe… this was the beginning.
In thirty days, the world would break. Monsters would crawl out from places humans never knew existed. Cities would burn. Governments would fall apart within hours. People would awaken strange abilities. Fang remembered all of it—because he had lived through it.
And now he had a chance to prepare.
He lifted his hand once more.
"Is this… my power?"
The number remained silent.
Before he could think further, Minari slammed the door open again without knocking.
"Mom said to bring the bowls down—" She paused when she saw him staring at the mirror. "You look like some dramatic hero right now. Planning revenge? Practicing cool lines? Want me to clap?"
Fang didn't respond. Not this time.
His calm silence was somehow scarier to her than any shouting.
"Uh… you okay?" Minari asked, her tone shifting slightly. "I didn't mean to make fun of you earlier. You just fell like… a legendary idiot."
Fang didn't turn.
"Minari."
"Hm?"
"If you ever enter without knocking again," he said, "I will lock you out of the house. Permanently."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're acting weird today."
"I know," he replied. It was the only answer he could give.
She sighed and left, muttering something about brothers being defective creatures.
The moment she disappeared, Fang opened his drawer and pulled out a notebook. Not just any notebook—the same one he used in his last life. Somehow, it had returned with him, unchanged. Its pages were filled with hurried handwriting, blood stains, and ripped corners.
He flipped to the first page.
Day 1: Don't trust shelters. They collapse first.
Day 2: Food disappears fast. Store more than you think you need.
Day 3: Never depend on survivors. Most become monsters faster than actual monsters.
He read through everything he had written as if memorizing his own past mistakes.
"This time," he whispered, "I'll survive properly."
He took a pen, clicked it once, and began writing a new list.
Buy rice in bulk
First-aid kits
Water filter
Portable stove
Batteries
Heavy clothing
Rope
Knife
Matches
A place safe from crowds
A sudden chill went through his body. Not fear. Something else—something awakening.
He looked at the glowing number again.
"9.9999999999…"
It wasn't just a number.
It was counting something.
Or measuring something.
Or waiting for something.
Just then, he felt a faint warmth under his skin. It flowed from his wrist into his palm, then up his arm like a slow spark running through a wire. He gasped quietly, clenching his fist.
"What… was that?"
The warmth grew sharper, clearer, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
A voice echoed inside his mind—not loud, not dramatic, just a calm whisper:
"You have returned. The limit is removed."
Fang froze.
"What… are you?"
There was no reply. The warmth faded, leaving behind a tingling sensation, as if the power inside him had barely woken up.
He sat still for a long moment, staring at his hand.
"Infinite…" he murmured, touching the number again. "Is this… what the nines mean?"
Before he could understand more, his mother called from downstairs again.
"Faaaang! Dinner is getting cold!"
He held his wrist gently, eyes narrowing.
This wasn't just reincarnation.
This was something much bigger.
And he didn't have thirty days.
He had less.
Fang walked downstairs slowly, still feeling the fading warmth on his wrist. The dining table was already set. His mother placed bowls of soup in front of them while Minari scrolled on her phone, pretending she wasn't stealing glances at Fang.
He sat down, trying to act normal, but every sound felt sharper—the clink of spoons, the quiet bubbling of the soup, even the faint hum of the fridge. It was as if his senses had been tuned up without his permission.
His mother spoke first.
"You have been strange since morning," she said while pouring rice. "Is something bothering you?"
Minari added without looking up, "He's probably stressed because he fell with his pants down."
Fang ignored her.
His mother sighed and waved her spoon at both of them. "You two fight like children. Minari, stop teasing him. Fang, stop plotting whatever dramatic revenge you're planning."
Fang's spoon paused halfway to his mouth.
Plotting?
He wasn't… planning revenge.
He was planning survival.
But he didn't correct her.
After dinner, he helped clean the table, then slipped back to his room quietly. He closed the door and locked it this time. The evening outside darkened, the streetlights glowing like dim stars across the window.
Fang sat at his desk and pulled his sleeve up once more.
The number was still there.
Still glowing faintly.
Still infinite.
He lifted his hand slowly.
"Is this something I can control?"
The number didn't answer—but his body reacted.
A small shock ran through his fingers, like touching static electricity. Fang flinched, and the pen on his desk rolled by itself and fell off the edge.
He stared at it.
"…Did I do that?"
The air felt thicker. Heavy. Almost alive.
He stretched his hand again—nothing happened.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe he didn't understand the trigger yet.
Before he could experiment more, Minari knocked once, then opened the door anyway.
"So," she said, leaning on the frame, "are you going to tell me why you're acting like some mysterious main character today?"
Fang looked at her. "Do you ever knock and wait?"
"No," she said proudly. "I'm your sister. That's my right."
She walked in and dropped onto his bed.
"What are you writing?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"That's suspicious."
"It's really nothing."
"You're lying," she said, rolling like a bored panda. "You look like someone who discovered a secret treasure or something."
Fang paused.
Treasure…
If only she knew how close she was.
He walked to the door, opened it, and pointed out.
"Out."
Minari blinked. "Are you kicking me out?"
"Yes."
She scoffed dramatically and walked outside as if she was the victim.
His mother's voice echoed down the hallway:
"Minari, don't bother your brother! Let him relax!"
Fang closed the door again and leaned against it.
He could feel it.
Something was forming inside him.
Something vast.
Something dangerous.
Something powerful enough to change the world—just like the disaster he remembered.
His fingers trembled—not from fear, but anticipation.
"Infinite limit… infinite number…" he whispered. "What exactly am I becoming?"
The night passed quietly, but Fang did not sleep.
He watched the glowing number in the dark, waiting for it to move again.
Because he knew this was only the beginning.
And the world was already starting to shift.
The night air felt strangely heavy, as if the world itself was preparing for something. Fang sat by the window, watching the moonlight reflect on rooftops and parked cars. Everything looked peaceful, ordinary… but he knew better.
He remembered how the disaster began last time.
Small signs at first.
Animals acting strange.
People becoming unusually aggressive.
Electrical disturbances.
Then, portals.
All in thirty days.
But now that he had returned to the past, he wondered if the signs might appear earlier.
A soft tapping sound came from behind him. Fang turned and saw Minari's kitten—Dubu—pawing at his door. Fang opened it just enough for the tiny cat to squeeze through.
Dubu meowed softly and curled around his leg.
Fang bent down and picked him up. The kitten purred, rubbing its head against his wrist.
The moment the glowing numbers touched Dubu's fur, Fang felt something strange—like a pulse of energy rushing out of him.
Dubu's ears twitched, and the kitten backed away suddenly, its fur standing up.
Fang blinked.
"…Did I scare you?"
The kitten hissed at the glowing number, then ran out of the room.
That had never happened before.
Fang looked down at his wrist. The number pulsed once, a faint heartbeat-like shimmer passing under the skin.
He exhaled slowly.
"So animals can sense it."
That meant one thing:
the power on his wrist wasn't small.
It was massive.
Maybe uncontrollable.
He sat at his desk and tightened his grip on the edge.
"If this ability wakes up too fast… I might become more dangerous than the monsters."
The thought wasn't comforting.
Downstairs, he heard his mother washing dishes and Minari laughing at something on TV. Normal sounds. Warm sounds. Sounds he didn't hear in the future.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"I won't let the world take this away again. Not this time."
He opened the survival notebook and wrote more:
Gas mask
Heat-resistant gloves
Portable charger
Rope ladder
Vitamins
Flashlights
Waterproof bags
Strong boots
He listed non-stop until he filled half a page. His handwriting grew faster and sharper, almost like the pen moved too quickly for his hand.
When he finally stopped to stretch his fingers, he felt it again.
That warm pulse.
This time, stronger.
His wrist flickered—just for a second—and the infinite number shortened.
Then lengthened again.
Then shifted like waves.
Fang froze.
He had seen this effect before.
It only happened when a system was preparing to activate.
His heart pounded.
"…So it's awakening already."
He stood up slowly.
His vision sharpened.
The air felt warmer.
His breathing grew deeper without effort.
It was happening.
Not tomorrow.
Not next week.
Now.
The room filled with a faint vibration, like the sound of a low-frequency hum that only Fang could hear.
He looked around—but nothing in the room was shaking.
The sound was coming from inside him.
His chest tightened. His hands gripped the desk as the energy surged through him again—harder this time.
His pulse matched the glowing on his wrist.
One pulse.
Two pulses.
Three.
Then—
The infinite number shifted, breaking its perfect pattern for the first time.
A new digit appeared.
A single… glowing…
1
Right at the end of the endless nines.
Fang stared at it, breath caught in his throat.
"What… is a number like that supposed to mean…?"
The glow grew brighter.
Then the voice from before returned—calmer, clearer, unmistakably directed at him:
"Your limit has been removed. Stage Zero unlocked."
Fang stepped back, stunned.
"Stage… Zero?"
The voice faded.
The glowing steadied.
And Fang knew:
His power wasn't just awakening.
It was evolving.
And whatever "Stage Zero" meant…
it was only the beginning.
"Just how strong am I going to become…?"
Outside, unnoticed by everyone, the wind shifted direction.
The world had begun to change earlier than before.
The glow on Fang's wrist didn't fade immediately. It lingered like a tiny sun pressed beneath his skin, pulsing slowly as if testing its own heartbeat. Fang tried to breathe normally, but every inhale felt too light, too easy, like the air itself had become thinner around him.
He sat down again, gripping the arm of his chair.
"Stage Zero… what does that even mean?"
There was no answer—not from the voice, not from the number, not from anything. The room stayed silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan.
Fang leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
He didn't know how strong he would become, but he knew something for certain:
When the world changed, powers appeared in random people. Some could lift cars. Some shot fire from their hands. Some healed wounds. Others mutated.
But nobody—nobody—ever had something like this infinite number.
And nobody had a stage before Stage One.
He rubbed his forehead.
"If this is only the start, how big is the end?"
He didn't get a chance to think further. Somewhere downstairs, he heard a loud thump. Then a second one. Then a yelp.
Fang stood instantly.
It wasn't a monster attack. The disaster hadn't started yet. But something felt off—instinctively wrong. He opened the door and rushed down the stairs.
Minari was sitting on the floor in the living room, holding her ankle.
"What did you do now?" Fang asked.
"Don't say it like I fell on purpose," she snapped. "The stupid shelf dropped on my foot!"
Their mother hurried over with ice, kneeling beside her.
Fang slowed, but something about the scene felt different.
He stared at Minari's ankle—and in the space around her skin, he suddenly saw something faint. Not visible, not glowing, but his vision… could detect something.
A ripple.
A pulse.
Like the outline of pain itself.
He blinked hard. The ripple didn't disappear.
"…What is this?" he whispered.
He took a step forward, and the ripples sharpened in his vision. He could see where it hurt the most, the exact spot where the nerve was strained.
It wasn't supernatural like magic, not dramatic like an x-ray vision.
It was more like… awareness.
His brain could calculate injury.
Minari winced as their mother touched her ankle too hard.
Fang crouched beside her. "Don't press that area. It's swollen on the inside."
His mother stared at him. "How do you know?"
He touched the back part of Minari's foot gently—exactly the right spot—and she gasped in relief.
"Hey—! That actually helps," she muttered. "Did you Google this or something?"
Fang didn't respond.
He was too focused.
He could see it.
He could understand it.
His mind was reading her body like a map.
When he touched her skin, his wrist warmed again. Just slightly. But enough.
It was activating through contact.
He withdrew his hand immediately.
His mother didn't notice. Minari didn't notice.
But Fang felt it clearly.
The power reacted to pain.
To injury.
To life.
He stared at his fingers, as if they belonged to someone else.
"…I can't use this carelessly," he whispered to himself.
He helped Minari onto the sofa, then stood up.
His mother smiled softly. "You were strangely gentle. Are you feeling okay?"
Minari grinned. "Yeah, he looked like a real doctor for a second. Then he ruined it by making that creepy face."
He ignored her again, walking back toward the stairs.
But he stopped with one foot on the first step.
Something tingled along his spine—like instinct.
Like danger.
He looked at the window.
The streetlight outside flickered once.
Twice.
Then went completely dark.
His heart tightened.
This didn't happen in his previous timeline.
The disaster wasn't early…
Something else was.
Minari noticed his expression. "What?"
Fang didn't answer.
Because he could feel it—
a faint vibration in the air, the same hum from earlier, now outside the house.
Something was approaching.
Not a monster.
Not yet.
But something connected to the infinite number on his wrist.
He stepped toward the window, his pulse matching the glow on his skin.
And for the first time since reincarnating—
Fang whispered the truth:
"This world is changing faster than I thought."
Fang stood by the window, watching the streetlight remain dead while the rest of the road glowed normally. Only that one lamp—directly in front of his house—had gone dark.
A bad sign.
Too specific to be coincidence.
He pushed the curtains aside a little more. Outside, the neighborhood was quiet. No people walking. No cars passing. Just a faint breeze moving the tree branches.
The wind had changed again—soft, but unnaturally warm.
He remembered the future clearly.
Streetlights didn't fail before the disaster.
Animals didn't panic this early.
Energy didn't behave strangely until the portals appeared.
But now, in this past… everything was happening too soon.
His wrist throbbed again.
The number flickered—once, twice—and steadied. Almost like it was reacting to something outside.
Fang looked down at it.
"You know something I don't," he murmured.
Behind him, Minari spoke through a mouthful of snacks.
"Bro, if you're staring at the dark like a horror movie character, close the curtain. You're scaring me."
He didn't respond.
He kept watching the street, waiting, listening.
Then he heard it.
A low, thin sound—almost a whistle. But not from wind.
More like a vibration.
It passed through the air, barely audible, but strong enough for Fang to feel in his bones. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
His heartbeat slowed.
The streetlight blinked once.
Then again.
Then—
All at once, it lit up.
Blindingly bright.
So bright Fang had to shield his eyes.
Minari stood up behind him. "Hey—what happened—?"
The light flashed again, then died completely.
Darkness swallowed the corner of the street.
And in the darkness, Fang saw something move.
A shape.
Tall.
Wrong.
Like a silhouette that didn't belong in this world.
But when he blinked—
it vanished.
He pressed a hand against the cold window glass.
His wrist glowed faintly, reacting again.
Something had been there.
Something from the disaster.
But why now?
The portals shouldn't open for another twenty-nine days.
Minari tugged his sleeve.
"Fang… what did you see?"
He turned to her slowly.
"Lock your door tonight," he said quietly. "And don't go outside for any reason."
Minari frowned. "What? Why? You're scaring me."
Their mother joined from the kitchen. "What's going on?"
Fang didn't explain.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
He just gave a small, tight smile.
"Nothing. Just tired. I'll sleep early."
He went up the stairs, step by step, each one feeling heavier than the last.
When he reached his room and closed the door, he finally let out the breath he had been holding.
He leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
"That silhouette… that wasn't supposed to appear until much later."
The glow on his wrist steadied again, softer now. Almost comforting.
As if telling him:
You saw it because you're ready.
Stage Zero is only the beginning.
Fang sat on his bed, staring at the infinite number for a long time.
Outside, the street remained pitch black.
The silence felt too thick, too unnatural—
as if the world itself was holding its breath.
And with that eerie quietness wrapping around the night…