The Chronicle of the Beginning and Climax

Prologue: The Reader's Final Chapter

The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room. A soft, rhythmic beat. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Yoo Jihwan sat in the dim glow of his desk lamp, the book open before him. The pages were slightly worn, the edges curling from too much handling, but that didn't bother him. He had been waiting for this moment.

The final chapter.

He let out a slow breath, dragging his gaze across the words. The protagonist was at the climax of their journey, standing at the edge of victory—or despair. A fate decided by the next few lines.

It was the kind of tension only a reader could understand.

Jihwan had always liked stories like these. Worlds that made sense. Struggles that had meaning. In books, the tragedies and triumphs were carefully placed, every moment part of a greater whole.

But reality?

It was unpredictable. Messy. Lacking purpose.

That was why he preferred fiction.

He flipped to the next page, his fingers brushing against the inked words. The story was ending. The character's journey was reaching its final destination. But for Jihwan—

It was just another book added to his collection.

He turned the last page.

And then—

A chill ran down his spine.

His body stiffened. The room was silent, but something had changed. The air around him felt heavier, thicker, as if unseen hands were pressing against his skin.

Then—

A message appeared before his eyes.

A floating text, glowing faintly in the dark.

> [The world has gained a new Reader.]

Jihwan's breath caught in his throat.

The words were clear. Crisp. Not written on the page but hanging in the air—as if the book itself had spoken to him.

His hands twitched. His mind screamed at him to move, to react, to do something—

But before he could—

The world shattered.

The walls of his room collapsed into ink, bleeding away into the void. His chair, his desk, the book itself—all dissolved into flowing letters, breaking apart into fragments of unreadable text.

And then, in that endless darkness—

A throne.

Distant. Unreachable.

Upon it sat a faceless figure, cloaked in the absence of light. It did not move. It did not breathe. It simply existed, a being that had long since become part of the void itself.

Jihwan could not see its eyes.

But he knew it was watching him.

And then—

Fire erupted.

A sudden, violent inferno, flames roaring into existence. The ink-drenched void twisted, shifting into something else—a vast, circular arena, its stone walls cracked and scorched.

And he was no longer alone.

Figures surrounded him. Dozens—no, hundreds—of people. Their expressions filled with confusion, fear, and something else.

Resignation.

As if they had already accepted something he did not yet understand.

And above them, carved into the sky itself, words burned in glowing letters:

> [Welcome, Readers.]

[Your First Trial Begins Now.]

And just like that—

Yoo Jihwan's story had begun.