A cold breath brushed the back of her neck.
The hospital gown—too thin for winter—snapped behind her like a wounded wing. Jinra walked barefoot across the frozen asphalt. The pavement bit into her skin, and still, she smiled. A wide, fractured smile, almost childlike. A smile born of instinct more than reason.
Free.
At last.
Truly free.
Her footsteps rang out like a falling metronome, offbeat and staggering. She swayed slightly, drunk on the new wind, on a world rediscovered without chains. Behind her, murmurs seeped through the air like splashes:
— "Did you see her? She's smiling to herself."
— "She's talking to no one…"
— "Total nutjob."
— "She must've escaped a psych ward."
— "Poor mother. Must be going through hell."
Voices. Judgments. Soft blades in the back.
But Jinra didn't turn around.
She lifted her face to the sky. Winter had stretched its icy blue between the skyscrapers, and the light sliced the world into pale bands and cold shadows.
I'm alive.
Fiercely alive.
Then a whisper came—soft as a thought, deep as an echo in an empty cathedral:
— "So, Jinra… what do you truly want to become?"
She blinked. The world paused.
A voice without a mouth, without a source. A whisper with no breath. Just a presence in her skull.
She stopped at the edge of a crosswalk, watching cars vanish in front of her like the horizon itself was asking the question.
Her fingers slipped into the empty pockets of the gown.
She inhaled. Slowly. Deeply.
— "…What do you… truly want?"
Her lips moved before she even realized:
— "I want to be free."
A truck roared past, inches from her. Jinra closed her eyes.
— "Free of everything. Chains, gazes, fear. I want to fly. High, so high. I want to be untouchable, immense. No bullet, no bomb, no god should be able to reach me. I want to laugh in the storm, dance on ruins, and bite the sky with all my teeth."
She stretched out her arms.
— "I want to walk on water. Sleep at the top of a mountain. Cross oceans without permission. I want… to be wild. Without master. Without leash."
Silence.
And then, the voice—mocking, almost fond:
— "In other words… you want to become a dragon."
She opened one eye. Tilted her head.
— "What?"
— "A dragon. Mythical creature. Untamable. Free. It flies higher than planes, faster than the wind. Its skin resists fire and time. Its magic bends the laws of the world."
She stood frozen. Then, a burst of laughter. Honest. Raw.
She started spinning in place.
— "Then hell yeah. I want to be a dragon. I want their wings, their strength, their majestic solitude. I want to be more than human. Make me that!"
She raised her arms to the sky. A gesture halfway between a child and a prophet. Around her, people had stopped.
— "She's totally cracked."
— "Looks like she's praying…"
She whispered:
— "Let them talk. I'm waiting."
— "That's not how it works."
She lowered her arms.
— "What do you mean? I thought you were, like… omnipotent."
— "I'm not all-powerful. I'm a key. A direction. Not a wish granted."
— "Great. A spiritual scam."
— "But I can lead you there. If you choose to move forward."
She crossed her arms.
— "I've been moving forward since the day I was born. No one's ever held out a hand."
— "This time, you walk for yourself. And the path is real. But harsh. Long."
— "I'm ready. What's the first step?"
— "Go to the place most saturated with plant essence in your area."
She looked up.
— "A park? Like, the poor man's Central Park? Yeah, I know one. Never had the chance to set foot in it. Let's go."
— "If you will it."
She ran, the gown flapping like a banner behind her.
⸻
The park stretched between two neighborhoods, an improbable oasis in the heart of the urban grey.
Trees, twisted by wind and winters, reached their bare arms toward a sullen sky. Children ran, dogs barked, couples brushed past each other without seeing. At the center, a fountain sang.
Jinra walked among them, a stranger.
Invisible. Or worse: too visible.
— "Approach the oldest tree."
An oak, massive, gnarled, rooted in the earth like a beating heart. She laid her palms against its bark. The wood was warm, alive.
— "Sit. Close your eyes. Breathe."
She obeyed.
— Inhale.
The earth. Humus. Moss.
— Exhale.
The wind. The laughter. The sighs.
Again. Again.
— "Listen. Don't think. Feel."
The world dissolved. She could hear the flap of a sparrow's wings. The screech of a braking bicycle. The bubbles of the fountain. Even her own breath felt foreign.
And gently, as if carried by the earth itself… she drifted.
⸻
— "Wake up."
She opened her eyes. The shadows of the leaves had shifted.
She leapt to her feet. A strange warmth pulsed through her muscles.
— "I've finished analyzing your body."
— "And? Am I a dragon now?"
— "…You haven't even reached 1% of what's required."
She groaned. Too slow.
Everything was always too slow.
— "There's a rule you must internalize. An absolute law if you want to become strong."
— "I'm listening."
— "You must do everything alone. No allies. No help. If you cheat… you lose."
— "Lose what?"
— "No levels. No loot. Not a single experience point. Even if you brush death."
She swallowed. Bitterness rising.
— "Doesn't matter… I've got no one anyway."
— "Then you're already ahead. You were born for this path. But it will be hard. It will change you."
She clenched her fists.
— "Good. I'll go alone. All the way to the top. Until even the skies fear me."
— "Then let's begin. Welcome to the Dragon's Path."