A New Life in Eleceed

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. It had already been a week since my first meeting with the Shinwa family. Time moved forward whether I dwelled on the past or not.

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 with the best seven-year-old expression I could manage. Even at my age, manners were expected.

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 to which made me wonder if any of the mythological creatures existed at one point. 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 who have formed cadet branches, 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.

From my studies with my personal tutor on Awakeners' History, I had learned that Seoul was a neutral zone, a shared territory where multiple Korean awakened organizations coexisted, each holding pieces of land based on their influence. Hundreds of years ago, powerful awakener families had fought for dominance over the city, as there was no royal family in this world to unify Korea under a single rule unlike in my old world. Instead, the land had been carved up by those strong enough to claim it.

The wars had only ceased when Japan invaded the Korean Peninsula. At that moment, all rival factions had set aside their conflicts to fight against the common enemy. Back then, Korea was still united—there was no North and South. But when the war ended and the peninsula was split later on, the awakened families had found themselves divided as well. The history had a semblance to my past life, yet it is different at the same time.

The Lee family, however, had adapted. We had expanded our influence, growing our businesses and securing our place in history by founding the first Korean Awakener Association—what eventually became known as the Awakeners' Union, or simply The Union. The creation of The Union had not been well received by the other top families. Being the first to establish an association didn't mean we would automatically control all awakened affairs, and so, in response, other families had formed their own organizations, some headquartered right here in Seoul.

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.

A voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Doryeonnim, breakfast is ready."

I turned to see one of the family's butlers standing nearby, his posture respectful.

I nodded. "Abeoji is already at The Union's headquarters, isn't he?"

"Yes, Doryeonnim. Your Abeoji left early this morning to attend to his duties."

"And Eomeoni?"

"She accompanied your Abeoji, as always."

I hummed in acknowledgment, pushing myself up from the grass. "I'll wash up first, then I take my breakfast."

The butler bowed. "Of course."

As I made my way back inside, I couldn't help but think—this was my new reality, my new life.