Chapter 5
"Cough, COUGH!" The morning air was quiet, or at least it was before Bumi's loud grasping broke it. He slouched over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath.
"…Almost there…" he muttered, though regret was already creeping in. "Why did I think this was a good idea…"
Today was his first attempt at running a quarter marathon, and he was completely underprepared. His calves threatened to cramp, his throat burned dry, his lungs on fire, and every breath felt shallow. Despite all the pain, his mind began to wander.
It had been a month since his declaration in that alleyway. A lot has changed since then. The day after his encounter with the SSS, he waited for his mother to return home from her part-time job.
"Mom…" Bumi started. "Can we talk?"
Ms. Tiang nodded, and the two sat down in their small, dimly lit, run-down living room. They exchanged a few lines of small talk, but Bumi knew he couldn't delay it any longer.
"Mom, I… I want to join the SSS." He braced himself for the worst. In a way, he got it, but not in the way he expected. His mother started tearing up and before long started to bawl her eyes out, but not out of sorrow. Rather, it was out of relief.
"I'm so, so glad…" she said, her voice trembling. "I was worried. I thought I was holding you back. That you were satisfied with this… with staying here."
"It's okay, Mom. I have a goal now. I'm sorry." Bumi replied, pulling her into a hug.
All this time, she had believed her inability to find a stable job, after what his father had done, was the reason Bumi never had the time to pursue anything, as he was busy helping her to put food on the table. But seeing him finally choose a direction, finally move forward, filled her with a quiet joy she hadn't felt in years.
What followed was overtime work, research, and an endless grind. Six months remained until the entrance test for the Synarc Suppression and Subjugation Academy in June. Bumi needed money: once he fully committed to studying and training, he wouldn't have time to work as much. At the same time, he tried helping his mother find a full-time job to secure stable income for the household. It wasn't easy. She had been a housewife for years when his dad was still around, and when that incident took place, it only made things worse as rumors spread of a Stim's widow. Still, after weeks of juggling odd jobs, Bumi managed to save enough to support them through the next few months, even if he cut back to a single daily shift.
Now, February, a month later, Bumi dragged his exhausted body forward. He was out of gas, yet still pushing himself past his limits.
"Ping!" A sharp, high-pitched sound cut through the air, like ice cracking. Bumi looked up, following the direction of the sound, and realized he had stopped in front of Aurora's house. A faint glow spilled over the pristine white wall of her backyard, just enough to hint at what lay beyond.
Even without seeing her, he knew. She was training.
"She never takes a break, does she…" he muttered, before looking forward again. There was a brief pause, a quiet moment of hesitation, before he took a deep breath. "…I'll finish this, then run another 3km."
And so he kept going.
Bumi had spent the past month researching and noting the criteria for entering SSSA. The entrance test was divided into two main components: a physical examination and a written test. An examinee had to pass both to be accepted.
The physical examination came first, consisting of three parts: a Synarc resonance and attribute test, a Synbeast extermination, and a one-on-one criminal apprehension sparring.
Immediately after was the written test, which covered Basic Meridian Union Law, Human Ethics and Morals, Basic Synarc Particle Theory, and Synbeast Knowledge. The paper lasted three hours and included both multiple-choice and open-ended questions.
After his run, Bumi moved straight into bodyweight training—push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, squats, and planks. His body was already drained, but he forced himself through it anyway. His legs felt heavy, his joints stiff, but he kept going, hyping himself up under his breath. "Just two sets of ten… Come on! It's not even that much!…"
For the next five months, this would be his life. Training for the physical assessment in a world where controlling Synarc was considered a basic human ability. Without it, he was effectively disabled. That meant he had to rely entirely on himself to outwork and outthink everyone else.
"Argh—!" he groaned mid pull-up. His arms shook violently, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull himself high enough. Not even close. It was his first week, after all. Two sets of ten were already pushing it. He had to start small.
After finishing, Bumi returned home, showered, and headed out for his part-time job waiting tables. By the time the sun had fully set, he was back in his room, studying under dim lighting.
Books were scattered everywhere. Some were still wrapped in plastic, others half-opened and stuffed with sticky notes. Scribbles filled the margins. It was complete chaos. To save on electricity, Bumi relied on the glow of his old, run-down laptop to read and write on the books he bought. Online resources existed, but buying a tablet wasn't an option due to its expensive subscription cost to use it daily, resulting in books being cheaper.
At his desk, his eyes traced line after line, but the words began to blur together. His practice questions were mostly wrong. As he tried to review them, nothing seemed to stick. At the same time, his hand moved absentmindedly—squeezing a grip strength trainer.
Click.
Click.
Click.
To him, there was no excuse not to train. These five months would be nothing but studying, training, working, and repeating the cycle.
Still, as his focus began to slip, he leaned back for a short break. Even then, his thoughts returned to the entrance test. Strength alone wouldn't be enough. He needed a plan. He already knew he would fail one part—the Synarc resonance test. That left the synbeast subjugation and the one-on-one apprehension test. Both were difficult even for normal candidates. For him, they were nearly impossible.
On his slow, lagging laptop, he pulled up the rules for the physical assessment. He began reading them out loud to himself. "No performance-enhancing substances… no Synarc tools allowed… no aiding other candidates…"
He paused.
"…No Synarc tools?" His eyes narrowed, his brain processing information. "What about tools without Synarc?"
In this world, Synarc has integrated itself into almost everything. Tools could bend, repair themselves, heat up, or enhance performance. Like the rotary phone, the moment technology advanced, it was replaced. Because of that, ordinary tools had become obsolete, relics for hobbyists and collectors.
Bumi quickly opened a query on the SSSA website and typed out his question. A reply came almost instantly.
"Confirmed: Non-Synarc tools are permitted during physical assessments unless explicitly restricted by scenario conditions."
"…It's permitted?" He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then read it again and again.
It was still like bringing a knife to a gunfight. Against someone with Synarc, a normal weapon meant almost nothing. But it is still better than just fighting with nothing but his bare fist. If he could close the distance, everything would change; his Synarc-less knife becomes a threat.
Bumi jolted up straight. There was a chance, small, ridiculously small, but not impossible. He opened a new tab and began searching. Most listings were overpriced, aimed at collectors and hobbyists. But one item caught his attention.
It was an army knife. It was multipurpose, compact, and most importantly, versatile.
The price made him pause: five thousand. steep, but not impossible. He let out a tired sigh. "I guess I'll never escape part-time work…"
Suddenly, pain shot through his leg.
"Augh—!" He grabbed his calf, squeezing tightly as the muscle cramped. His entire body ached. His arms were heavy, his mind foggy. The exhaustion was setting in all at once.
"Wouldn't it be easier to just give up?" A dangerous thought manifested itself. "All this pain… for a slight chance?"
"A slight chance to enter SSS and an even smaller chance to prove Dad's innocence."
"You know Dad did it. Stop lying to yourself." Bumi's resolve was fading. However, just as quickly, a voice snapped him back to reality.
"Bumi? Bumi! Are you okay?" A soft and concerned voice cut through his thoughts. It was his mother's voice. "Your muscles… I'll get muscle cream. Go stretch, stretch."
"This pain, it's for her." He whispered it under his breath.
Seeing her suffer hurt more than this ever could. Even if she smiled, even if she acted like she had moved on, he knew better. He saw it in the way she visited Aurora's house every week, in the way she avoided certain topics, and in the quiet guilt she carried. The past hadn't let her go. So until it does, he wouldn't let it go either.
"I can't stop…" His grip tightened.
"I just started…" His breathing steadied slightly.
"I'm finally walking."