The Chronicle of the Beginning and Climax

Chapter 3: The Announcement of the True Readers

The trial had ended, but the nightmare wasn't over.

Yoo Jihwan sat on the cold stone floor, his breath ragged. The suffocating heat of the flames had vanished, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt unnatural. Around him, the remaining survivors—less than a third of the original group—stood frozen, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

Some had collapsed, gasping for air. Others simply stood there, too drained to process what had happened. But no one spoke.

The absence of the fire should have been comforting, yet the air still felt thick, as if the trial itself had left something behind.

And then—

> [The first selection has been made.]

[Welcome, true Readers, to the beginning of your story.]

A shadow flickered above them.

Jihwan's head snapped up. There, hovering in the air, was a figure draped in ink-like darkness. Its cloak rippled as if caught in a nonexistent wind, and though its face remained hidden beneath a deep hood, its presence alone sent chills down his spine.

Unlike the flames, this entity carried no heat. Instead, its very existence pressed against them—as if the air itself recognized its authority.

> [Congratulations, survivors.]

The voice did not come from its lips.

It rang directly in their minds, layered and echoing, as if countless voices spoke at once. Each syllable carried weight, resonating deep in Jihwan's chest like an undeniable truth.

> [You have proven yourselves worthy of stepping beyond mere existence. You are now candidates for the path of True Readers.]

A murmur spread through the survivors.

"True Readers…?" someone whispered.

Jihwan's fingers curled. He had seen that term before—hidden in the footnotes of ancient texts, buried between lines most would overlook.

Yet, no book had ever fully explained what it meant.

But if this world functioned anything like the novels he had read, then "True Reader" wasn't just a title. It was a role. A purpose.

And that meant this wasn't just a game of survival. It was a selection.

The cloaked figure raised its hand.

> [The path ahead is divided. Only one among you may reach the final page. Only one will inherit the last story.]

Jihwan stiffened.

The final page? The last story?

Before he could ask, the ground beneath them rumbled. The stone cracked apart, forming a perfect circle, and from the shadows, massive bookshelves began rising.

Row after row, towering higher than any library he had ever seen. Some shelves gleamed as if untouched by time, their books pristine and untouched. Others were worn, their pages frayed, their ink bleeding as if their stories had been rewritten too many times.

It was as if they had stepped into a forgotten archive of gods.

Jihwan's breath caught.

The figure gestured toward the floating books.

> [This is your next trial: The Book of Judgment.]

The moment the words fell, a single book detached itself from the shelves and hovered before Jihwan.

At first glance, it looked ordinary. A leather-bound tome, its cover smooth and untouched.

But something about it felt wrong.

He didn't want to touch it. Didn't want to see what was inside.

Then, slowly, letters began forming on its surface. Not in ink, but in pure, radiant light.

Jihwan's pulse quickened.

And when he read the title—

His heart stopped.

> [The Story of Yoo Jihwan.]

His name.

His story.

No one else reacted. No one else even glanced at his book.

Because they couldn't see the title.

Jihwan's hands turned ice-cold.

This wasn't just any book.

Someone had already written his fate.

And for the first time since this madness began—

He felt true fear.

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End of Chapter 3