White.
Then black.
Then—voices.
Not the system's.Not the Author's.Not even Elvastia's sarcastic muttering.
Just one voice, low and steady, speaking right beside me.
"Jiho. Wake up."
My consciousness snapped back like a cord being pulled taut.
I gasped, sitting upright—only for a hand to press firmly against my chest, pushing me back down.
Do-hyun.
He knelt beside me, expression carved from stone.Eyes sharp.Unreadable.
But there was something else there.Something colder.
He didn't say anything at first.
He just watched me.
Studied me.
As if waiting to see whether I woke up as myself…or as something else.
My throat felt dry. "How long was I out?"
"Almost an hour," Do-hyun answered. "You were convulsing for half of it."
His voice did not waver.
That scared me more than if he had shouted.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
"The system tried to seal something. A memory."
"What memory?"
I hesitated.
His jaw clenched.
"Jiho. No more secrets. Not now."
His tone wasn't harsh.But it wasn't gentle either.
It was the voice of a man who had run out of safe assumptions.
"The system said the Administrator must not remember," he said. "Remember what?"
The word sat on my tongue like a blade.
I forced my eyes open fully.
The world around us was a patchwork—half-rendered terrain floating in darkness.We were stuck in the aftershock of the merge rupture.
Alone.Nowhere to run.Nowhere to hide.
So I told him the truth.
"I… saw something before I blacked out."My voice shook. "A room. White. Cold. Like a lab."
Do-hyun's brows drew together slightly.
"And there were people," I whispered. "Wearing ID badges. Talking about 'Administrator prototypes' and 'cognitive anchors'."
His eyes sharpened.
"Jiho. Look at me."
I did.
"What was on the badges?"
"I couldn't read all of them. The memory was fractured."I swallowed hard. "But one name stood out."
I hesitated.
Do-hyun leaned closer.
"Say it."
"…Han."
His breath hitched.
"Han," he repeated. "As in—?"
"Yes."I met his gaze."It was your family name."
Silence.
Not a heavy silence—a dangerous one.
Do-hyun slowly sat back on his heels, staring at me like he was seeing someone else entirely.
"You're saying my family was involved in creating the Administrators."
"I'm saying," I whispered, "that the Administrators… might not have been programs at all."
The sky flickered violently—overreacting to the information.
But Do-hyun's eyes stayed on me the whole time.
"What were they, then?" he asked.
I forced the memory to surface.
"The researchers said… the prototypes couldn't survive unless they were given a human baseline to imprint on."
His expression darkened.
"And you," he said slowly, "are a prototype."
"Maybe," I whispered. "Or maybe I'm the imprint."
Do-hyun's voice dropped to a chilling quiet.
"And what did they call you?"
My heartbeat stuttered.
Because I remembered that too.
The researchers calling out to the figure floating in a tank—a figure I recognized too well.My shape.My face.
They called it by a designation.
Administrator…Model…
My voice came out barely above breath.
"…Model J-0."
Do-hyun froze.
"J-0," he repeated. "Jiho."
He wasn't asking.
He was confirming.
The world trembled.
A new system message flashed overhead:
[ADMINISTRATOR DESIGNATION CONFIRMED.][SEALING FAILURE.][ESCALATION PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.]
Wind tore through the broken space, and the shadows around us began to move—coalescing into shapes.
Do-hyun rose instantly, sword in hand.
"Jiho. Behind me."
But I didn't move.
Because the shadows… weren't attacking.
They were kneeling.
All of them.
Kneeling toward me.
Do-hyun's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles went white.
"Jiho," he said quietly, without looking back, "I need you to tell me right now—"
His voice hardened with something between fear and fury.
"Are you the one they were trying to replace me with?"
My breath caught.
Because deep in the sealed memory—past the tank, past the researchers—
I remembered one more thing.
A file.Labeled with Do-hyun's full name.
And a line underneath:
"Successor Compatibility: 98%."
My hands shook.
"Do-hyun," I whispered. "I don't know what I was meant to be."
He finally looked back at me.
And there was no coldness now.
Just something far more painful.
"Then," he said, "we'll find out together."
Before I could answer—
The shadows rose.
And the system announced:
[ADMINISTRATOR PROTOCOL: CONVERGENCE.][BEGINNING HUNT.]