Abandoned Yet Chosen / The Verse Within

The sound of steady rainfall tapped against the hospital window. Jiho’s eyes fluttered open, the ceiling above him blurring into focus. His body felt heavy, like it had been filled with lead, but his mind was alive—memories of lightning, the monstrous alien, and that strange shield flickering in front of him flashing in fragments.

A voice cut through the silence. Calm, almost teasing.

“Yoo! You up?”

Jiho turned his head slightly. Beside him sat the stranger who had saved his life. Dark hair damp from the rain, posture relaxed like nothing could ever faze him. His eyes had that sharpness—calm but calculating.

Jiho’s lips trembled. “…Who are you?”

The man leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “Let’s just say I’m someone who was passing by… and found you caught up in something you shouldn’t have survived.” He paused, then asked, more seriously:
“Tell me—your parents, your clan. Who do you belong to?”

Jiho froze. “…Parents? Clan? I… don’t know either.”

The stranger raised a brow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Then tell me about yourself. Everything.”

Jiho’s voice was quiet at first, but once he started, the memories flowed like an old wound reopening.

His Indian parents had names that still carried weight in his heart—Arvind Sharma, a man with a rough voice, broad shoulders, and the kind of presence that could silence a room. Tough, strict, but proud. And Meera Sharma, gentle and radiant, her smile soft enough to erase a bad day. She couldn’t bear children, but she had a warmth that made Jiho believe the world still had kindness.

Seven years old, small and trembling in South Korea, Jiho had been surrounded by older kids shoving him to the ground, mocking his weight and his silence. He thought that was his life—until she appeared. Meera had seen him. Stood up for him. Shielded him. And in that moment, she begged her husband to adopt him.

Arvind resisted at first, but in the end, he gave in. “If this is what you want, Meera, we’ll do it.”

For four years, Jiho had a family. Warm meals, a mother who tucked him in, a father who trained him in small chores and discipline. But it didn’t last.

At eleven, his father received a transfer—Pune to Berlin. Without Jiho’s knowledge, the decision had already been made. Arvind left him behind in a cramped 1BHK apartment with no money, no plan, nothing. Meera cried that night, but she had no power to stop it.

Arvind had laughed it off. “The boy was dead weight anyway.”

Jiho never forgot that.

With no parents and no guidance, survival became his only purpose. A government scheme saved him—one designed to clean parks while providing small jobs to abandoned or poor children. Jiho became part of it, earning barely enough to eat. Every morning, before sunrise, he would clean a small park area for an hour. It wasn’t much, but it kept him alive.

At school, though, life was no kinder. Bullies made him their daily target. Friends betrayed him, using him until he had nothing left to give. Every day was a repetition of humiliation, survival, and silence.

“…That’s my story,” Jiho finished, voice low, eyes fixed on the sheets of the hospital bed.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

The stranger finally spoke, his tone softer than before. “Tough kid. No parents, no clan… yet you’re still here.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Name’s Kaname. That’s all you need for now.”

Jiho glanced at him, uncertain.

Kaname smirked again. “Hobbies? Guess you could say fighting things that shouldn’t exist. Which brings us to what you saw that night—the alien.”

Jiho’s body stiffened. Just the memory of its smoke-like form sent chills down his spine.

Kaname continued, his voice calm but sharp, almost like a teacher.

“There are layers to reality. Two we’ve confirmed so far.” He held up two fingers.

“The Universe—what you and I live in. Reality as you see it. A simulation of rules, subjects, and objects playing out.”

“Then there’s the Verse of Existence. That’s where the real laws are written. Gravity, time, space—everything constant comes from there.”

He leaned back, eyes narrowing. “When someone acknowledges and manipulates the Verse of Existence, they break limits. That’s what we call Techniques, Skills, and Spells. Moves that bend the rules. Impossible for ordinary humans, but possible for us.”

Jiho swallowed hard, hanging onto every word.

“To perform these techniques, we use something measurable. KAI Points. Energy from your body and consciousness. Every move consumes it. Every skill requires it. That’s what I sensed in you—you’ve got something, Jiho. Something rare. Maybe even… a clan’s legacy.”

Jiho’s heart pounded. “…But I don’t know my clan. How could I?”

Kaname’s gaze sharpened. “Certain clans have unique inherited abilities. If we find yours, we’ll know.”

“…But I’m still a minor,” Jiho muttered.

Kaname chuckled lightly. “Age doesn’t matter. There are Vectors younger than you. The only question is—will you accept it?”

Jiho stared at his trembling hands. His life had been empty. Lonely. Pointless. But now… there was something in front of him. A chance.

He clenched his fists. “Yeah. I’m ready. If it means saving humanity…”

Kaname’s smirk widened. “Then welcome, Jiho. From this day on, you’re walking the path of a Vector.”