I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER-Chapter 131: the PULSED STEP.

His eyes just stayed there, locked onto the words as they settled into place, one by one, like something quietly rearranging his priorities whether he liked it or not.

Above him, the stream went still. Like a breath caught too long in a crowded room. Messages slowed, spacing out as if even they were waiting now. Watching. Expecting something to crack through that calm deadpan face of his.

A reaction.

Shock.

Excitement.

Fear.

Anything.

Instead—

Si Hon exhaled.

Slow. Casual.

His eyes narrowed just slightly, not in tension, but in mild focus— like he was rereading something that didn’t quite impress him the first time.

"Huh."

The sound slipped out flat, almost absentminded. His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, the kind you’d give a minor inconvenience. "So that’s it..." he muttered, tone low, uninterested. "Survive, save people, kill stuff... two months..."

His gaze lingered for half a second longer, scanning the lines again— not urgently, not carefully, just enough to feel like he cares at least.

Then—

"Woah."

A tiny shift.

Barely there.

"Not three months anymore."

It wasn’t alarm, he wasn’t even concerned.

Just observation.

Like noticing the weather changed.

A short pause followed, the weight of the quest hanging there— heavy, absolute, final.

And then Si Hon moved.

Lazy.

Unbothered.

His hand lifted slightly, fingers brushing through the air like he was dismissing a notification he didn’t feel like reading twice.

And he closed it.

Just like that.

The interface folded in on itself, dissolving cleanly, quietly— gone without resistance, like it had never been there in the first place.

Above him—

The stream broke.

「EXCUSE ME?????」

「THAT’S IT??? THAT’S YOUR REACTION???」

「HE CLOSED IT— HE ACTUALLY CLOSED IT— W SPEED!!!」

「BRO SHUT YOUR MOUTH ABOVE ME」

「READ IT AGAIN!!! READ IT AGAIN!!!」

The messages surged back violently, stacking, overlapping, practically tripping over each other as the disbelief poured in faster than they could process.

But Si Hon?

He was already done.

He leaned back against the shelf again, one arm resting loosely at his side, posture sinking into something far too relaxed for the situation he was in.

His gaze drifted off— not upward, not toward the chaos— but somewhere quieter, somewhere inside his own head.

Like the decision had already been made.

"Yeah..." he murmured softly, more to himself than anyone else, voice calm, steady. "Got it."

A faint pause.

Then, almost as an afterthought—

"Don’t worry," he added under his breath, eyes half-lidded now. "I already saw this."

Another second.

"There’s nothing new, besides the month."

And somehow—

That made it worse.

Above him, the stream didn’t calm down.

If anything—

They panicked harder.

After that, Si Hon let his eyes fall shut— not out of exhaustion, but by choice.

The quest lingered in his mind for a second... then he pushed it aside.

"Later," he muttered under his breath.

The stream above him kept raging, messages piling over each other, panic stacking on panic— but he simply tuned it out, like closing a door on noise he didn’t feel like dealing with.

And eventually—

It did.

Not completely.

But enough.

The space around him settled again, the air returning to that strange, hollow calm this place always drifted back to. Si Hon exhaled softly, then shifted slightly where he sat, his hand moving down toward his waist.

The book.

[PULSE STEP — ✧✧✧✧]

He pulled it out without much exaggeration, flipping it open as his gaze lowered onto the pages. At first, it felt like reading— normal, plain, nothing special. Words. Lines. Instructions.

Then something shifted.

It stopped feeling like reading. The words didn’t stay on the page— they slipped past his eyes and settled somewhere deeper, turning into something he could actually use. Not just what the skill did, but how it moved... how it flowed... the exact moment intention became action.

His foot shifted.

Just slightly— weight leaning forward before he even realized it.

The moment stretched for a split second, like his body was catching up to something his mind had already started.

And then—

Si Hon moved.

Not on purpose. Not completely— just a fraction of what he was starting to understand.

The world snapped forward with him.

In less than a sec, he was already a few feet away from where he had been sitting, his body settling a fraction after the movement finished, like it arrived just a tiny bit late to its own action. There was no flash, no dramatic effect— just a clean, sudden shift that felt too smooth to be normal walking.

Si Hon blinked, looking back at where he had been.

Then down at his feet.

Then back again.

"What."

He flexed his fingers slightly, testing the feeling still lingering in his body, like something had just clicked into place without asking for permission.

Behind him, there was a sudden shuffle— pages stopping mid-turn— followed by a small, sharp intake of breath.

Han’s head snapped up from the book, eyes wide, practically glowing as he stared at the spot Si Hon had just moved from... then back at him.

"WOAH!" he blurted out, voice bursting with pure amazement. "That’s so cool, dad!"

The book in his hands dipped slightly as he leaned forward, completely distracted now, earlier focus gone like it had never existed. "You just... you went..." he waved his hand vaguely in the air, trying to mimic the motion and failing miserably, "like shoop! And then you were there!"

Si Hon glanced at him, one brow lifting just a little at the reaction.

"Shoop?" he repeated flatly.

Han nodded aggressively. "Shoop!"

A pause.

Then Si Hon looked back at his feet, then at the space he crossed, like he was reconsidering the explanation.

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath.

"Shoop sounds about right."

"But I wasn’t teleporting..." His brows then pulled together as he tried to make sense of it, replaying the motion in his head. It didn’t feel like he disappeared. There was no gap. No blank space.

His eyes flicked back to the space he crossed.

No delay. No gap.

Clean.

That wasn’t teleportation.

"I moved," he muttered quietly. "Just... really fast."

His gaze dropped to the book still in his hand, eyes narrowing just a little as a faint realization started forming. "So this is Pulse Step."

Not escape.

Not instant travel.

Something sharper.

Short bursts. Controlled. Precise.

His grip on the book tightened slightly, not out of fear— but interest.

"Yeah," he said under his breath, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This is way better than I thought."