His mother went back inside the house, gently closing the slightly creaking wooden door. Silence soon enveloped the room, but this time it was a warm kind of silence.
The woman walked toward the kitchen, her footsteps light against the cold tiled floor. She opened the aging refrigerator and took out the leftover stir-fried meat and fresh vegetables Yan Shuo had bought the previous afternoon. Her eyes sparkled every time she saw those quality ingredients; for their small family, a meal like this was a rare luxury.
With movements that were practiced and deft, she began chopping the vegetables on the wooden cutting board. The rhythmic sound of the knife striking the board filled the kitchen, creating a calming domestic harmony. She turned on the stove, letting the blue flame lick the bottom of the pan until the heat spread evenly.
Once the oil began to sizzle, she added the pieces of meat and vegetables. A savory aroma instantly burst into the air, creeping into every corner of the house. She added her family's secret seasonings, stirring until the meat turned a perfect brown. Finally, she covered the pan, letting the steam finish cooking everything to just the right doneness, while her thoughts remained fixed on her son's great ambition to enter Noxward.
On the other side of the city, Yan Shuo had already set foot on a wide sidewalk. The morning streets looked incredibly lively—or at least, that was how people described them. Vehicles powered by internal combustion engines and electric motors passed by one after another, creating an unbroken roar.
For Yan Shuo, this bustle was an escape. He had always felt that the noise of the city was a remedy for a heart that subconsciously despised silence. In this chaos, he did not feel alone with the weight of his thoughts.
He walked toward the nearest bus stop and sat on a long bench made of cold metal. While waiting, he took his phone out of his pants pocket. His thumb moved swiftly, scrolling through the latest news on the internet. The blue glow of the screen illuminated his serious-looking face.
At the stop, a few other passengers began to arrive—a businessman with a briefcase and a college student who looked half-asleep.
The sound of a large engine approaching shattered his reverie. A dull silver intercity bus stopped right in front of the shelter. Yan Shuo stood up and slipped his phone back into his pocket with a quick motion. He waited in front of the automatic door as it opened with a soft hiss of air.
His steps were steady as he climbed the bus stairs, briefly greeting the interior atmosphere filled with the scent of chemical cleaner and old leather seats. He walked down the narrow aisle, searching for the most strategic seat—by the window. He wanted to make sure his eyes had full access to the cityscape that would pass by.
Once all the new passengers were seated, the bus driver—who looked unusually energetic—slightly turned his body toward them.
"This trip will take two hours to reach Buldam Station!" he shouted in a loud, hoarse voice. "Is everyone ready?"
No one replied verbally; most passengers simply stared blankly ahead or focused on their own affairs. However, the driver did not seem bothered in the slightest. He continued smiling broadly, his enthusiasm sharply contrasting with the cold morning atmosphere. He pressed the gas pedal, and the large bus began to move, cutting through the dense traffic.
Yan Shuo drifted back into thought as the bus rolled forward. Through the slightly dusty window, he observed fragments of human life below. Some people pedaled bicycles in a hurry, others jogged while gasping for breath, and some stood in line at small breakfast stalls.
All of it looked normal, yet Yan Shuo felt a vast distance between himself and those routines. He did not want an ordinary life. He wanted something more—something only Stellar could provide.
He pulled out his phone again and glanced at the digital clock in the corner of the screen: 08:22. He returned to browsing news sites, hoping to find something more substantial than celebrity gossip.
Suddenly, a headline made his eyes widen. His heart began to beat a little faster. In his mind, he shouted in disbelief.
His phone screen displayed news about the escape of Stellar-using prisoners from the highest-security prison in the country. The number was staggering: 59 people. He read every line with the focus of a detective, trying to find any indication that the news was a hoax rather than a grim reality.
The report stated that on Friday, March 28, the most secure detention facility—supposedly impossible to breach—had been broken into from the outside by a mysterious group. The attack was extremely brutal, killing more than 100 fully armed guards.
As of today, which was recorded as Sunday, March 30 in the article, only two prisoners had been recaptured. Yan Shuo immediately checked the calendar on his phone. Today was Wednesday, March 33 (according to his region's systematic calendar).
He murmured softly, frowning, "This news was uploaded three days ago… why hasn't there been any update or new report until now?"
The uncertainty tormented his curiosity. He continued searching for additional information about the incident, but almost every news portal merely repeated the same details about the two captured prisoners.
Skepticism began creeping into his thoughts. How could an iron fortress said to be equipped with Stellar-aura suppression technology be destroyed in a single night? Was its defense system truly that weak, or did the attackers possess power that surpassed current military logic?
"Aren't there any Stellar users guarding that prison?" he muttered again, barely audible to the passenger beside him.
He fell silent for a moment, contemplating the state of his country. "It seems Stellar users in this country are truly few and poorly organized if something like this can happen."
This reality further strengthened his resolve to obtain that power. To him, in a world that was beginning to fall into chaos, lacking power was the same as waiting for one's turn to become a victim.
Without realizing it, the bus began to slow down and turn toward a more open area. A magnificent building with modern station architecture appeared on the horizon. The bus finally stopped with a gentle jolt. The windows now revealed a station far busier than the previous stop.
The driver shouted again, his voice echoing inside the cabin, "Final stop—Train Station! Please get off! Our next destination is Golga Market!" He repeated the announcement once more to ensure no one missed it.
Yan Shuo stood up, adjusted his bag, and stepped off the bus. He inhaled the station air, mixed with the scent of metal and electricity. His feet moved decisively toward the station entrance, turning his back on the bus as it closed its doors and drove away, leaving behind a thin trail of exhaust.
Yan Shuo's footsteps echoed as he passed through the station's metallic, shimmering sensor gate. The atmosphere inside the central train station was far more suffocating than the bus stop earlier; there was the distinct scent of ozone, cheap coffee, and the sweat of thousands of people colliding beneath a massive, high-arching glass roof. He scanned his surroundings, searching for a gap among the crowds of hurried, expressionless faces. After walking past a row of nearly full benches, he finally found an empty seat in a quieter corner of the platform.
Yan Shuo let out a long breath, dropped himself onto the hard plastic seat, and immediately reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He needed a distraction. Thoughts of the escaped Stellar prisoners began to unsettle him, as if shadows of danger were creeping beneath the station tiles. He opened a simple game app to kill time. His thumb danced rapidly across the screen, chasing a high score while the noisy station announcements faded into a distant background.
"Kid… could you spare a little kindness?"
The raspy voice shattered Yan Shuo's concentration. He looked up and found an elderly woman standing before him. Her clothes were extremely shabby, full of patches and dried stains, forming a pitiful contrast against the grandeur of the modern station. Her wrinkled face looked gaunt, her eyes filled with pleading hope as they stared at Yan Shuo.
Yan Shuo felt a surge of compassion in his chest. He had never truly been able to ignore suffering right in front of him. Quickly, he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, fumbling for whatever cash he had left. But when his fingers touched the bills, he froze. In his hand was only 500 gold notes—a sum large for an ordinary person, yet the only money he had for his train fare home. If he gave it away, he would be stranded in the city with no way to return to his mother's house.
"I'm sorry, Grandma… I'm really sorry. I don't have enough small change," Yan Shuo said as gently as he could, his eyes filled with guilt.
Suddenly, the old woman's expression changed drastically. Her once-dull eyes now gleamed sharply with anger. "Then what was that money you were holding just now?!" she screamed, her voice shrill enough to make several nearby people turn their heads.
Yan Shuo flinched, panic creeping up his spine. "T-that's my fare to get home, Grandma. This is all I have. If I give it to you, I won't be able to go home," he explained in a trembling voice, trying to be honest.
"Tch! Kids these days really have no respect for the elderly!" the woman did not lower her volume; instead, she grew even more heated. "You only think about yourself! Give me that money! Can't you see I'm already useless? You're healthy, you're young, yet you're stingy!"
Her shouting acted like a magnet. People on the platform slowed down, forming a small, judgmental circle. Whispers spread, cornering the young man who sat stiffly on the bench. Yan Shuo felt as if the oxygen around him was thinning. He wanted to give her the money just to end the drama, but logic screamed that doing so would leave him in trouble.
"Once again, I'm sorry, Grandma…" Yan Shuo bowed his head deeply, hoping the woman would leave.
Slap!
A hard slap landed on Yan Shuo's cheek. The sound echoed sharply, making several people gasp. Yan Shuo froze, clutching his cheek as it burned and throbbed. He could not believe his honesty had been repaid with physical violence.
"He molested me! This kid is insolent!" the old woman suddenly screamed even louder, pointing at Yan Shuo's face with a trembling finger. The accusation struck like lightning from a clear sky. The surrounding gazes turned into looks of hatred and disgust.
Amid the escalating chaos, a man stepped forward from the crowd. With a calm yet authoritative motion, he positioned himself between Yan Shuo and the old woman, gently but firmly pushing her back several steps.
The man was strikingly noticeable. His posture was tall and composed, radiating a subtle dominance. His short white hair was neatly styled, framing a cold face that was nearly expressionless. He wore a perfectly fitted black suit, a spotless white shirt, and a simple black tie. His leather shoes gleamed as if they had never touched dust. Despite being indoors, he wore dark sunglasses that concealed his eyes, adding to his deep air of mystery.
"What's going on here?" the man asked in a heavy voice that seemed to vibrate through the air.
"This young man… he has no respect! He molested me just because I asked for a little help!" the old woman slandered, her voice now nasal, as if she were a terribly wronged victim.
Yan Shuo quickly shook his head. "No, no… that's not true. I just couldn't give her money because I need it to go home. I swear, I didn't do anything else."
The man in the black suit turned toward Yan Shuo. Even though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, Yan Shuo felt as if the man's gaze was piercing into his soul, dissecting his honesty.
"So that's why you show no respect to your elders and only think about yourself, boy!" the old woman hurled one last insult, realizing her presence was beginning to be viewed skeptically by the stranger. She snorted angrily and quickly walked away, disappearing behind a massive station pillar.
The surrounding crowd began to disperse, though whispers questioning the morals of today's youth still lingered. Yan Shuo remained seated weakly, his hand still touching the reddening mark of the slap.
The tall man fully turned to face Yan Shuo. He extended a hand clad in thin leather gloves and gently patted Yan Shuo's shoulder. The touch felt cold, yet steady.
"The world can change, kid," the man said briefly. A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his lips—a smile carrying meaning far deeper than simple consolation. "Don't let today's dust cloud your view of tomorrow."
Without waiting for a response, the mysterious man walked away with measured steps, disappearing elegantly toward the executive gate. Yan Shuo stared at the man's back until the piercing sound of a train horn snapped him out of his daze. The Buldam Express had arrived, releasing hot steam and the screech of grinding brakes.
With lingering confusion still weighing on his heart, Yan Shuo stood up. He straightened his jacket, took a deep breath to calm the turmoil in his chest, and began moving with the flow of passengers. The memory of the old woman's slap and the mysterious man's words swirled through his mind as he crossed the carriage door, Yan Shuo stepping into the train.