The training continued.

  Every day, in between free time, I tried to understand more deeply about Immersion. I wanted to know what could be seen and what couldn't. I did experiment after experiment. I searched for the boundary between normal sight and this strange ability.

  Even the world's colors changed when Immersion was used. Proof that this ability was getting stronger.

  In my search for that understanding, wild birds in the yard became my most faithful and good training subjects.

  Sparrows, finches, sometimes doves that got lost. Every time they perched on the fence or bathed in puddles of rainwater, I observed.

  And every time Immersion activated, those red dots appeared on their bodies.

  Those dots always pulsed slowly. As if beating following their own life rhythm. I never got bored watching them. There's a strange beauty in the vulnerability of living creatures.

  At times like that, they're no longer just living creatures. But objects I could kill at will.

  That thought is dark, I know. But as the world's colors faded in my vision, pity faded along with it.

  But one thing bothered me.

  Since successfully seeing red dots on birds, I'd never tried Immersion on humans. Maybe because I'm scared. Or maybe because I'm not ready to accept what I'll see.

  I always imagined it like reading someone else's diary without permission. It violates others' privacy.

  However, curiosity is a fire that's hard to extinguish. Besides, to understand my ability's limits, I have to dare to step further.

  So, with mixed feelings, I started with Mom.

  She was the easiest target, and also the one that made me feel most guilty.

  That morning, the routine went as usual. I had just woken up and was getting ready to shower when I saw Mom already busy in the kitchen.

  Her back faced me. Her hands were busy cutting vegetables with a sharp knife. I stood behind her, watching silently, waiting for the right moment to let that power creep out.

  Then I focused.

  Colors faded slightly. And there they appeared.

  Red dots.

  From those birds, I already started understanding. Immersion doesn't just change how to see, but also how to feel.

  But knowing something theoretically and actually experiencing it are two different things. And I wasn't ready for that difference.

  I didn't count them right away. For a few moments, I just froze.

  Those hands had stroked my forehead when I had fever. That neck I'd often hugged since I was a baby. But now, in my eyes, all of that was just weak points.

  And on that neck... there was a red dot.

  I swallowed. My throat felt dry and painful.

  Without realizing it, my hand hidden behind my back started trembling violently when I saw that red dot pulsing right at the nape of Mom's neck. I had to close my eyes briefly, suppressing the nausea that appeared from seeing the person I loved most as a fragile target.

  Her body was filled with dots that if struck the wrong way could hurt her.

  I shook my head hard, throwing that thought as far away as possible. As if if I didn't stop immediately, I would really forget who this woman in front of me is.

  I counted in my mind. Eight. No, nine. One more at the back of her head that only became visible when she turned slightly.

  Too much information. My brain started feeling hot. Immersion cut the connection after reaching the one-minute limit.

  The world returned to normal. Colors became bright again.

  I took a long breath, trying to calm my heart that suddenly beat faster.

  Earlier, when Immersion was active, I didn't see her as Mom. Just as a cluster of red dots that could be neutralized.

  Exactly like birds. But far more painful to admit.

  Once Immersion stopped, only then did everything return. The affection, the guilt, the horror at myself.

  I knew Immersion changed my perspective. But I didn't know it could go this far.

  Mom had many weak points. So many. And they all looked clear because she wasn't alert.

  She was relaxed. She trusted this environment. This house, her family. She didn't feel any threat.

  That's when she turned around and just realized my presence.

  "Sera, what's wrong? Why are you spacing out?" Mom reached out to stroke my hair.

  "I'm fine, Ma. I'm gonna shower first," I answered quickly while moving away from her.

  Mom frowned, confused, but didn't ask further. She returned to the stove, humming an old song I'd often heard since childhood.

  In the bathroom, while letting water wet my body, a question suddenly appeared in my head.

  If Mom is full of red dots, then what about Dad?

  Would it be the same?

  ? ? ?

  That question settled in my head for days. Changing from just curiosity into a necessity that must be solved.

  I didn't intentionally avoid it. But every time Dad was near me, I always hesitated to look at him too long.

  Not because I'm afraid of seeing red dots on his body. But because I'm afraid of not seeing anything.

  Why does that thought always appear? My common sense whispered. That's impossible. Dad is also human. Every human has weaknesses.

  But why do I doubt?

  It feels like if I tried on my dad, it's the same as stepping into a minefield. Finally, after laughing at myself for being too cowardly, I decided to try.

  Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

  That opportunity came one night.

  Dad was sleeping on my bed. He slept right in the middle of the bed as if the bed was his. The TV was on quietly, showing a drama program.

  Mom had gone to Mrs. Smith's house because she was bored at home.

  Just me and Dad.

  I sat beside him, pretending to tidy my storybook. From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Dad. His chest rose and fell slowly. His face was calm. No signs of waking up.

  I'll just look for a moment.

  Just a moment.

  After taking a long breath, I tried to relax my mind like I usually did. Gaze straight at Dad.

  One intention to understand. Immersion active.

  And the result was beyond expectation.

  There's nothing.

  "..."

  I blinked, thinking Immersion failed to activate. But no, the world around me was still in sharp focus typical of Immersion. Its color slightly dim.

  But on Dad's body...

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  Empty.

  Not a single red dot.

  I moved my gaze across his entire body. From the tips of his slightly graying hair, to his forehead, to his neck, to his rising and falling chest. To his hands folded on his stomach, to his slightly dangling feet.

  Nothing.

  Not even one dot.

  Immersion cut off by itself after one minute.

  I sat frozen in place.

  Why?

  Why?

  Why?

  Without realizing it, I bit my fingertip. Why is Mom full of red dots, but Dad has none at all?

  That question spun in my head like a small storm. Is my Immersion broken?

  Or does Immersion only work on ordinary living creatures? And Dad isn't in that category?

  No! Why am I thinking my dad isn't a living creature?

  That last thought made my neck hair stand on end.

  Dad... isn't an ordinary creature?

  I looked at him again. That face. The same face that kisses my forehead every night. The same hands that carry me when I'm fussy. The voice that likes to bother and tease me.

  Don't be paranoid...

  Quickly, I dismissed that absurd thought. Of course Dad is human. I've seen him eat, sleep, and laugh.

  But if so... why can't my Immersion see his weakness?

  Maybe Dad's an alien? Or a monster in disguise? Or maybe he has a power that makes him immune to Immersion? Besides, this is a world with strange talents. Anything could happen.

  In the midst of that chaotic thinking, one most logical hypothesis finally appeared.

  Maybe it's precisely because he's too alert?

  That thought came suddenly. If Immersion shows weaknesses on living creatures when they're relaxed or not alert, then what if Dad, even when sleeping, remains in full alert condition?

  Is it possible weaknesses only appear when someone's off guard?

  I bit my lower lip.

  Strangely, even though it feels a bit creepy, this feels fun.

  ? ? ?

  To prove my theory, my little experiment started the next day.

  I decided to observe Dad in various situations. Not with suspicious intense stares, but with ordinary observation while doing other things. And whenever there's a chance, I activated Immersion even though it made my head hurt.

  Morning. When Dad was having breakfast, I sat across from him, pretending to be busy with my food. Secretly I focused.

  Colors changed.

  Empty.

  I blinked. Tried again. Still empty.

  Maybe I'm too tense. Try to relax first.

  Still didn't work. No problem. I still have many chances.

  Afternoon. Dad slept on my bed again, this time lying on his side with one hand propping his head. I played near him with my dolphin doll, occasionally glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

  Immersion active.

  Empty again.

  I bit the tip of my doll gently.

  Why? Am I missing something?

  Even one night, I peeked at him while sleeping through the bedroom door gap and went in to observe my dad more closely. Aren't people most vulnerable when sleeping? That's what I always heard from others in my previous life.

  But still. Nothing.

  As a result, my mom woke up and scolded me for accidentally stepping on her face. I got scolded that night.

  Though her anger subsided, she opened the blanket for me and let me in.

  As if nothing ever happened.

  ? ? ?

  Frustration started eating at me. Is it possible my Immersion really doesn't work on Dad because he's my parent?

  But that doesn't make sense. Immersion doesn't have moral concepts like that. It's just a tool.

  Or maybe...

  I remembered back to when I accidentally entered my dad's workplace. That's where I heard the words "Talent Division."

  Sounds like an elite force trained to always be alert. Even when sleeping, even when relaxing, their instincts never truly die.

  Maybe that's the answer!

  Dad is too alert.

  So Immersion can't catch his weakness because that weakness never appears. Even when he's eating, reading, or even sleeping.

  However, it seems like my dad stopped being in the talent division. I entered my dad's workspace again not long ago and it's like a warehouse. Has my dad been promoted?

  Honestly, I don't even know what my dad's job is now. He always wears a suit when going out. Is he an official? I'm not sure.

  Forget it, back to the topic. But if so, when can someone's weakness be seen? Not half lowered.

  Really without any remaining alertness.

  I racked my brain for quite a while.

  Then something crossed my mind.

  I know when that could happen.

  That is when he's with me!

  ? ? ?

  I arranged that opportunity carefully.

  That afternoon, my dad and I walked together after buying something at my mom's command. We looked at the afternoon sky that was actually about to lose its glow. I walked beside him.

  "Dad~"

  He turned and smiled. "Yes, Sweetheart?"

  "Carry me~"

  He blinked. "Carry?"

  "Just like that. I want Dad to carry me."

  I hadn't even finished my sentence. My body was already lifted first.

  I automatically hugged his neck, my cheek pressed against his shoulder.

  The world felt safe and comfortable.

  And in that comfort, I didn't forget my goal.

  Colors changed.

  And there.

  One red dot.

  So small.

  If not careful, might not be visible. But it's there.

  Right at the crown of his head, in a place that's impossible to reach without carrying someone. One small red dot pulsing slowly.

  I caught it briefly, right when Dad's body suddenly tensed.

  Suddenly I was hugged tight.

  Then everything tilted.

  Ground. Grass. Sky.

  When I came to again, Dad was already running half-crouched. He carried me behind a large tree in the corner of someone else's yard.

  His back leaned against the tree. I was almost invisible behind his body.

  His breathing sounded heavy, but stable.

  His gaze was no longer the same. He swept around without blinking, alert to something I couldn't even see yet.

  "Dad?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

  "Shhh. Quiet first." He covered my mouth.

  He stayed like that for quite a while.

  Until my Immersion faded by itself.

  But his eyes hadn't stopped.

  Still moving from one tree to another, from shadow to shadow. As if there's something he's waiting to appear.

  Several seconds passed. Maybe thirty seconds.

  Slowly, the tension in Dad's body started to recede.

  But he hadn't moved yet. He was still silent, as if making sure everything was really safe.

  Until finally he looked down at me. Alertness still remained on his face. But when he realized I was trembling in his embrace, his gaze changed.

  "Sorry, Sera," he whispered. "Papa thought... Papa thought there was something."

  I stayed silent in his embrace, trying to peek toward the empty street.

  My mind suddenly went blank. There shouldn't be any danger here, right?

  In this neighborhood, security guards are at every street corner. They guard so tightly that parents feel very safe letting their children wander alone.

  This environment is the definition of the word safe.

  But why was Dad's reaction just now as if we'd just been targeted by a machine gun?

  Are those security guards meaningless in Dad's eyes?

  "Dad... what was that earlier?" I asked carefully.

  Dad shook his head, smiling thinly. "Maybe just Papa's feeling. Maybe a bird or falling leaf. Papa's too sensitive."

  Then he carried me again.

  I looked down, hiding my face in Dad's chest. His heartbeat felt slow and stable in my ear. Contrasting with my own heart beating chaotically.

  Why? Why did he react so strongly this time, when even when he was sleeping I also looked at him?

  The street was empty. Only me and Dad.

  No.

  There's one more thing.

  My own gaze!

  When Immersion was active, I stared at the red dot on his head. Without that dot, my gaze was just like a little kid observing. But as soon as it appeared, my focus changed. My gaze was full of intent.

  Without realizing it, my heartbeat slowed.

  A cold thought crossed my mind. Does Immersion not just see weaknesses, but also radiate something?

  Like 'Killing Intent' in the martial arts novels I used to read? Something invisible, yet real enough to trigger a trained person's instinct?

  Is it true that when Immersion is active, something from me radiates too?

  Dad's reaction earlier was too clear to be called coincidence.

  Maybe not just an ordinary gaze. When my eyes caught the red dot on his head, without realizing it, I really targeted him.

  And Dad, with his instinct, he felt that targeting as a threat.

  If that's true, then the problem isn't with Immersion. But with me. I can't yet separate between observing and targeting.

  If that's really the case, isn't this very fatal?

  My body tensed. Thoughts spun wildly, shadows of worst-case scenarios kept appearing.

  No!

  I can't let it happen again.

  I have to learn to control it.

  Before others realize it!

  As for how to control it, I don't know either. I can think about it slowly.

  And also, by the way, did Dad think there was a sniper or something?

  Feels funny.

  He must never have thought that the source of his unease was being hugged by him.

  But from here I learned something.

  Turns out weakness isn't about lack of skill, but about to whom we lower our defenses.

  Dad is always alert to the outside world, even when sleeping. But in front of me, he lets himself be vulnerable.

  No wonder in regressor novels, many great characters die stabbed by those close to them.

  That used to feel illogical, but now I understand. Love is the only gap that can't be closed by combat instinct no matter how great.

  Oh yeah, the red dot on Dad's head is at the crown. A strange place. But maybe that makes sense because the crown is the weakest point.

  Who knows. Maybe I'm thinking too much.

  What's important is tomorrow I'll ask for ice cream.

  I deserve a reward for this exhausting experiment.

  ? ? ?

  However, the reward I received wasn't ice cream, but a different silence from Dad. The next morning at breakfast, Dad was quieter than usual.

  He ate slowly. Occasionally glancing at me with an expression I couldn't read.

  Mom noticed. "Honey, are you okay? Since yesterday you've been strange."

  "Hm? Yeah, just thinking about work. And maybe need new glasses." Dad chuckled.

  But his eyes still returned to me.

  My heart beat uncomfortably. I just nodded slowly while chewing slowly.

  After breakfast, Dad sat on the porch. He sipped his coffee while watching the birds in the yard, my training objects.

  "Sera, come here for a moment. Papa wants to ask," he called casually, while patting the floor beside him.

  I approached, trying to regulate my breathing without looking nervous.

  "Yesterday, when Papa carried you." He paused briefly. "You were focusing on something, right? Are there gray hairs on Papa's head?"

  He laughed quietly, but his eyes didn't laugh along.

  Focusing? Gray hairs? What does Dad mean?

  Should I answer honestly or lie?

  But I don't want to lie.

  I furrowed my brow then opened my mouth slowly.

  "Gray hairs? What does Dad mean? I was just spacing out," I answered, trying to put on the most innocent face possible.

  "Oh, spacing out?" Dad put down his cup.

  A small ting sound, but to me it felt like a warning bell in my ear.

  "Because it felt strange. Like there's a mosquito about to bite, but the mosquito doesn't have a needle."

  He combed my hair with his hand.

  "Alright. Papa must just be imagining things. Next time if you want to look at Papa's gray hairs, tell me, okay? So Papa won't be surprised."

  What does he mean?

  Dad sounded like he's joking, but it feels like that's not just a joke. As if he's saying, I know that was you. I know you're doing something.

  I can't be honest. I myself am not sure how much he knows. It feels like he's trying to fish for my reaction.

  Then the corner of his lips lifted.

  "Do you want ice cream?"

  "Yes!"

  We went to the nearest supermarket as usual.

  But I could feel something had changed.

  Dad doesn't fully believe my answer.

  ? ? ?

  That night, I wrote in my brown notebook. I tried to organize all my findings and bad hunches.

  Today I discovered something frightening.

  Never use Immersion on Dad again. Too dangerous!

  Maybe he'll never know exactly what I did. But his instinct already smells something's wrong. And for the first time, I feel I'm not the only one keeping secrets in this house.

  I closed the book and put it under my pillow.

  Then I stared at the ceiling again, trying to convince myself.

  Dad's just sensitive. That's normal. Of course he has sharp instincts.

  He doesn't really KNOW what I did.

  Right?

  But deep down, in the part of my mind that refuses to lie, I know the truth.

  Dad felt something.

  Maybe he doesn't know exactly what it is.

  But he knows it's there.

  And that means, from now on, I have to be a far better actor than before.