The first rays of dawn barely peeked over the horizon as I woke up, my body instinctively rising before the sun had fully claimed the sky. I let out a slow sigh, running a hand through my hair. Old habits never die, huh? This was nothing new—waking up at the crack of dawn had been ingrained into me long before I even came to this world.
A wry smile tugged at my lips as memories of my past life surfaced. My old family had a strict morning routine; sleeping in was never an option. My father had always been an uptight, regimented man, his military background dictating every aspect of his life and, by extension, ours. He was strict, sometimes frustratingly so, but my mother had always reassured me that he loved his children—he just had his own way of showing it. Tough love, she had called it.
My mother… she had been my safe haven. Unlike my father, she had a gentler approach to life, allowing me to explore, to play, to just be a kid. She would sneak me sweets when my father wasn't looking, take me to the arcade despite his disapproval, and let me stay up past bedtime to watch movies. I remember the warmth of her embrace, the soft lull of her voice as she hummed me to sleep. Even now, even in this new life, I missed her.
One memory, in particular, surfaced—one of my favorite moments with her. It was a rainy afternoon, and she had let me stay home from school just this once. We sat by the window, drinking hot chocolate, watching the raindrops race down the glass. "Sometimes, it's okay to take a break," she had told me, ruffling my hair. "Even soldiers rest, you know." I had laughed at the time, not fully understanding, but now… I clung to those words.
I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away before they could weigh me down. My training yesterday got my body all sore but with my enhanced physiology, and a bit of cyrokinesis helps reduce muscle soreness and inflammation. I climbed out of bed and stretched, rolling my shoulders to loosen up my muscles. Warm-up exercises were second nature to me, a necessary step before any physical activity. Satisfied, I moved toward my closet, selecting a comfortable running outfit and slipping on my running shoes.
Stepping out of my room, I was greeted by the maids who were already up and working, their presence a quiet but constant part of the household. They bowed slightly as I passed, and I returned the gesture.
Once outside, I took a deep breath, the cool morning air filling my lungs. The estate was vast—large enough that I could run several laps without ever needing to leave the property. The landscape was breathtaking, designed with an elegant balance between nature and refinement. The front porch led to a stone path lined with well-manicured flower beds and traditional Korean lanterns that would illuminate the grounds at night. Cherry blossom trees framed the estate, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.
The most striking feature was the grand fountain at the center of the courtyard, a stunning masterpiece of carved marble, its intricate design depicting swirling dragons and rising phoenixes. Water cascaded from multiple tiers, the sound soothing in the quiet morning air. It was a testament to both wealth and taste, a statement that the Lee family's legacy was one of power and prestige.
Beyond the estate, the countryside stretched toward the horizon, far removed from the bustling metropolitan district of Seoul. This place, our home, was a retreat from the constant noise of the city.
I set off on my run, my feet moving in a steady rhythm as my thoughts wandered. My father had told me that our family originally came from Busan, where the bulk of our businesses were still located. Most of our relatives resided there, holding key positions in the family enterprises. Seoul, on the other hand, was a different battlefield—one where political maneuvering and strategic alliances mattered just as much as raw power.
My pace increased as I ran, my steady jog turning into a sprint. The cool morning air whipped past me as I pushed myself harder, testing my endurance. Ten laps later, I finally slowed, coming to a stop in the middle of the courtyard. Dropping onto the grass, I let myself relax, staring up at the sky. The clouds drifted lazily, their soft, white forms untainted by pollution. The sight was oddly peaceful.
------
I stepped through the front door of our house, stretching my sore muscles from my morning ran. Before I could even take a proper breath, a small blur of energy slammed into me, wrapping tiny arms around my waist. Subin who just woke up came to find me.
"Big brother! You promised we'd play today!" Subin's voice rang out, her tone filled with excitement and just the slightest hint of accusation.
I chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I did, didn't I? Alright, what do you want to play?"
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Ice Tag! But you have to go easy on me!"
I smirked. "No promises."
She pouted but quickly dashed to the middle of the spacious living room, already bouncing on her feet.
"Alright, here are the rules," I said, stretching my arms. "I'm 'It,' and if I touch you, you freeze in place for five seconds before you can move again. But, if you manage to hit me with a pillow before I tag you, I get frozen for five seconds instead."
Subin grinned. "Deal!"
The game started, and I formed small patches of ice around the floor—nothing too dangerous, just enough to make the chase more fun. Subin giggled as she jumped and dodged around them, her small feet nimbly avoiding the slippery spots. I lunged at her, but she dove onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at me.
I let it hit my shoulder, dramatically freezing in place. "Ugh, I've been hit!"
Subin laughed in triumph and took the chance to run behind the dining table. The moment five seconds were up, I moved quickly, weaving around furniture and closing in. She squealed, trying to duck behind a chair, but I tapped her shoulder just in time.
"Got you!" I announced.
She groaned, standing frozen while I counted down, but the moment she was free, she shot off like a rocket. The game continued, filled with laughter, quick movements, and Subin's playful taunts. Eventually, after a final daring escape attempt that ended with her slipping on a small ice patch I had made, she collapsed onto the couch, giggling breathlessly.
"Okay, okay! I surrender!" she said between breaths. "That was fun!"
I sat beside her, grinning. "Want to make it even better? Let's do an obstacle course."
Her eyes widened. "Really?! You're the best, big brother!"
We got to work setting it up. I dragged pillows and cushions to create a tunnel, lined up chairs to form a narrow pathway, and placed a few stuffed animals as 'obstacles' she had to avoid. Then, with a flick of my fingers, I created a smooth ice slide at the end for the grand finish.
"Alright, Subin," I said, standing at the starting point. "You have to crawl through the tunnel, jump over the pillows, dodge the 'monster' plushies, climb over the couch, and then slide down the ice ramp. Think you can do it?"
She puffed out her chest confidently. "Easy!"
I smirked. "We'll see about that. On your mark… get set… go!"
She dashed forward, diving into the pillow tunnel with impressive speed. I watched as she wriggled her way through, emerging on the other side with a triumphant grin. She leapt over the pillows, nearly tripping but catching herself at the last second. Then came the 'monster' plushies—she zigzagged through them, making dramatic sound effects as if she were dodging real beasts.
Finally, she climbed onto the couch, arms flailing as she balanced on the backrest. With a delighted squeal, she slid down the ice ramp, landing with a victorious pose.
"I did it!" she cheered.
I clapped. "Not bad, but now it's my turn. Think you can time me?"
She pulled out my phone and squinted at the timer. "Ready? Go!"
I shot through the tunnel with ease, hopped over the pillows, and practically danced through the plushie obstacles. Scaling the couch took a second longer than expected—Subin had made the ice slide even more slippery with her own little bit of frost power. I grinned before pushing off and gliding down with perfect control.
"And… stop!" Subin yelled, staring at the time. "Whoa, you were super fast! But I still had more fun because I got to do it first."
I chuckled, ruffling her hair again. "You did great. Let's clean up before Mom yells at us."
We spent the next few minutes putting everything back in place, though I had to chase her around the house once when she tried to get out of cleaning. After we were done, she plopped onto the couch, looking up at me with bright eyes.
"Can we play again sometime?"
I smiled. "Of course."
Moments like these made all the training, all the responsibilities, and all the expectations feel worth it.