In a massive, high-ceilinged room lined with glass panels and old wooden bookshelves, Yoon Taeha was curled up on the hardwood floor, hoodie half-zipped and sweatpants wrinkled. Papers were spread like wings around him — official documents on Covenant charters, financial reports, bylaws, and guild jurisdiction laws. A cup of instant coffee sat cold beside him, untouched for hours.

  His eyes scanned every line like his life depended on it.

  Because in a way… it did.

  When he told Jaemin, "Leave the paperwork to me," Taeha meant it—every damn word.

  No legal team. No analysts. No advisors. He refused to waste Jaemin's time or money. Everything was done by him — researched from scratch, paid from his pocket using savings from years of unspent allowances and returns from small, clever investments. He even skipped out on upgrading his armour gear just to make the math work.

  This wasn't just about being useful. This was Taeha's way of saying:

  "I got your back, hyung-nim."

  He was so deep in a regulation clause about Rift Distribution Rights that he didn't hear the door open.

  "What are you up to?"

  A calm, teasing voice rang from behind.

  "HYUCK!"

  Taeha flinched, the papers in his hand flying up like startled doves. He turned, clutching his chest.

  "Oh… Park Chae-young."

  Standing by the door with a crooked grin was his cousin, wearing designer loungewear and holding an iced Americano like a prop.

  Unlike the rest of the Yoon family — who carried their wealth like a sword and treated Taeha like a walking disappointment — Chae-young was the only one who didn't act like a condescending jackass.

  She stepped inside, casually scanning the paper-strewn battlefield Taeha was buried in.

  "Still trying to impress that friend of yours?"

  Taeha smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "No... I mean, yes. I just want things to be right, you know?"

  "You're doing the job of ten people."

  She muttered, half-impressed, half-exasperated.

  "Why did you act so surprised when I came in? Worried I was one of your brothers?"

  Chae-young teased with a dramatic gasp as she flopped backwards onto Taeha's bed, arms spread like she was claiming the whole thing.

  "Yeah… for a second."

  Taeha replied, exhaling, eyes still on the papers in front of him.

  "So… how's Yoon Ha-joon these days? Haven't seen that charming ray of sunshine in a while."

  She said with thick sarcasm, tossing a cushion into the air and catching it.

  "Being a menace, that's all."

  Yoon-Taeha muttered.

  If there was a final boss in the Yoon family, it was Ha-joon — eldest, closest to their father, and already sitting as a board member of the Yoon Group. The rest of Taeha's brothers were out of the country half the year, so he didn't have to deal with them face-to-face. But Ha-joon? He lived close. Too close. And he never missed a chance to throw Taeha under the bus.

  The man had been hating him since birth — literally. Taeha could still remember crawling into Ha-joon's room as a toddler and getting shoved out like a roach. One time, he even pushed Taeha while he was still learning to walk. That was Ha-joon's love language.

  "Ugh."

  Chae-young groaned, sitting up.

  "You're a Coreborn now, and a Flux one at that. Just punch him in the gut and call it a day. Trust me, catharsis."

  Taeha snorted.

  "Why would I do that? If I try to hurt him, what's the difference between me and him?"

  "Oh god."

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Here we go again with your philosophical nonsense."

  "I want to shut him up."

  Taeha said, a grin spreading.

  "But I want to do it in a way that makes it impossible for him to say a single damn word back."

  "By creating a Covenant?"

  Chae-young raised a brow, scoffing as she hugged a pillow to her chest.

  "Why are you laughing?"

  Taeha asked, half-smiling.

  "Because your brother's trying to make one too, right?"

  "Yeah… but for a petty-ass reason."

  Taeha muttered, tilting his head like it physically hurt to explain this.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  "Which is?"

  She pressed, intrigued now.

  "He somehow found out I was planning one. And obviously, he couldn't let me have that. So he went and decided to make a Covenant himself—just to pitch it to our dad before I could."

  Chae-young blinked.

  "Wait… seriously?"

  Taeha nodded, lips twitching into a tired grin.

  "It's so childish, I almost respect the dedication."

  "Can't you just go tell your dad yourself again?"

  Taeha sighed, his smile thinning out. "Nah… My dad's not exactly my biggest fan. Talking to him's like stepping into a job interview where you're already rejected before you even say hello."

  Chae-young's expression softened.

  "Damn. That must've sucked growing up."

  "Still sucks."

  Taeha admitted, brushing a hand through his hair.

  "But it'll all be worth it when I finally slap that Covenant name right on Ha-joon's smug face."

  He leaned back, folding his arms like he could already imagine it.

  Chae-young whistled low.

  "You're out here playing the long game."

  "Oh yeah." Taeha grinned.

  "I'm playing chess while they're all busy sword-fighting over whose car is shinier."

  ****

  The fan hummed on the ceiling, lazy and indifferent. Papers rustled. Kim Hwajun squinted at the open file in his hands, brows furrowed so deeply they could be mistaken for a second pair of eyes.

  "Hey, Park Yunjin?"

  He called out.

  A younger woman poked her head in almost immediately, breath slightly uneven like she'd sprinted over.

  "Yes, sir? You called?"

  Hwajun didn't look up.

  "I did. This report here—recent Rift activity. It says seven were recorded near the South Complex in the last month. But the system… it only lists one. And it's marked red."

  "Red?"

  Yunjin blinked.

  "That's… strange. I remember the Iron Judgement guys telling us not to poke around too much. Said they'd handle it internally."

  "They told you that directly?"

  "Yeah. It sounded official. I figured it was cleared on your end."

  Hwajun finally looked up, eyes sharp now.

  "No. No clearance came through. And red doesn't just mean dangerous. Red means unstable."

  Yunjin tilted her head.

  "I'm… not sure I follow."

  Hwajun closed the file slowly and leaned back in his chair.

  "Think of it like this. You know how two Coreborns can both have Bastion Cores? On the surface, they're the same. But one might be a rookie, the other a hardened veteran. You wouldn't know the difference just looking at their core type. But that difference matters."

  "Right…?"

  "Same goes for Rifts."

  Hwajun continued.

  "Most are easy to classify by aura, density, and feedback. But sometimes—sometimes a Rift will lie. Or worse, change."

  Yunjin frowned now, concern creeping into her voice.

  "Like… evolve?"

  "There are two Rift classes."

  Hwajun explained, raising two fingers.

  "Orthogenesis. That's your average Rift. Predictable, structured. The laws inside follow patterns—even if they're hostile."

  "And the second?"

  "Dysgenesis."

  Hwajun said flatly.

  "Wait, sir…"

  Yunjin spoke up, sheepishly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  "I'm not familiar with those terms. Ortho-what?"

  "I figured."

  Hwajun said, not unkindly.

  "Most field agents aren't. That's because the second type—Dysgenesis—barely shows up. Thank God."

  She tilted her head.

  "Then… what do they mean?"

  Hwajun exhaled and leaned back in his creaky chair, rubbing his temples. "Alright, crash course time."

  He tapped the file.

  "Orthogenesis Rifts—those are your standard issue ones. Tiered. Predictable. Containable. You get in, deal with the objective, clear out the Abyssals, and then the rift opens again, or you wait for the rift to stabilise, and then it diverges."

  Yunjin raised a brow.

  "Diverges?"

  "Yeah. When a Rift's left alone too long—stable but unclosed—it begins a Divergence. The laws inside leak out. It stretches thin, pops. Starts bleeding into the world. That's what sparks a Max Raid."

  Her eyes widened.

  "Oh. Okay. That… makes sense."

  "But Dysgenesis Rifts."

  Hwajun said, his tone shifting subtly, lower, more cautious.

  "They don't follow that system. The tier might say 4, but it'll feel like 2. The ecosystem inside isn't consistent. There's no clear Abyssal hierarchy. You might find a Vanguard chilling with an Arc-Witch and a Flesh Golem in the same terrain."

  "That's… terrifying."

  "Yeah. And worse? There's no Divergence countdown. No second chance. No wait-for-door-to-open shit. It's a domain. A sealed pocket of spatial fuckery. The only way out is through the boss."

  "And you can't find the boss?"

  "Not easily."

  Hwajun muttered.

  "Domains rearrange themselves. Warp. Shift. It's like the Rift itself is conscious. Like it wants you to lose."

  Yunjin swallowed hard, the colour draining from her cheeks.

  "Can an Orthogenesis Rift… become a Dysgenesis?"

  Hwajun looked her dead in the eyes.

  "Yes. It's happened before. Rare, but real. There's no concrete explanation—just theories. One of them is rift pressure. The other? Rift density. Something inside is pushing too hard for too long."

  She went silent.

  "Why do you think I'm spooked, Yunjin?"

  Hwajun added quietly.

  "This one out there near South Complex... It's red. And Iron Judgement is keeping it quiet."

  Yunjin finally looked down at the report.

  "…So what now?"

  Hwajun stared at the flickering screen.

  "We keep watching. If that Rift flips over… I don't think Iron Judgement's gonna be enough."

  "Well then… how would one differentiate them?"

  Yunjin asked, her brows furrowed.

  Hwajun lifted a finger and pointed toward the Rift image on the screen. "Orthogenesis Rifts are usually blue—light blue to deep, depending on tier. Tier 4 and below? Sky blue. Tier 3s start getting that violet fade—like an ombre. Then Tier 2 and Tier 1 are fully violet. Elegant, stable, and clean."

  "Okay… and the other one?"

  Hwajun muttered.

  "They're black or sometimes red. But usually Black. Oh, but when it's red, it's a harsh, bloody hue. And worse, there's this thick black energy bleeding out of them like smoke. You'll know one when you see it. They don't look like cracks in the air—they expand, warp around themselves, jagged and irregular. It's not a tear in space. It's a wound."

  Yunjin bit her lip, glancing again at the file.

  "So the problem with the red colour in the system is that—"

  "They don't know what kind of rift it is."

  Hwajun finished for her.

  "Exactly."

  Silence stretched between them for a beat.

  "That's why I'm uneasy."

  He added, his voice low.

  "If it were just a Tier 1 Orthogenesis, it'd still go red since the system shows red for high danger, but the signature would match. This one? There's nothing to compare it to."

  "…And Iron Judgement said not to investigate."

  Hwajun gave a humourless smile, resting back in his chair.

  "Yeah. They did. Which makes me even more curious."

  TING!

  A notification popped up on the laptop.

  "Huh."

  She blinked, skimming the notification.

  "Sir, I just got a system update. It says the Rift's been dealt with."

  Hwajun raised a brow.

  "Already?"

  "Yeah, and there's a follow-up message."

  She added, her tone getting a little confused.

  "It says the Rift is being used as a… tester?"

  Hwajun scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

  "A tester, huh?"

  He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unimpressed.

  "The only Covenant bold enough to turn a Rift into a training ground is Iron Judgement."

  He muttered.

  "Figures."

  Yunjin tilted her head.

  "Wait, so they're—"

  "Using the deadly Rift as a classroom."

  Hwajun cut in.

  "Yeah. That's how they breed monsters."

  He didn't say it with admiration. Just a concern.

  ****

  As Jaemin silently walked out of his room, he got a message from one of the operatives from the Covenant: Iron Judgment, saying that they had begun special training, asking if Jaemin would like to join and oversee the mission. That said, how could he refuse such an opportunity?

  It also cleared his suspicion; they actually did recruit the girl. Iron Judgement.

  Of course.

  Thanks to Gyeongnim, Jaemin had already traced a handful of internal routes. The man was a member of Iron Judgement before rising into the Coreborn Association, and while Jaemin didn't trust much from Gyeongnim's legacy, he did know how to navigate the cracks he left behind.

  "I know exactly what to do now."