She didn't remember owning a diary.
Not the cover.
Not the weight.
Not when she ever wrote in it.
But she remembered the pages.
Plural.
Layered in her mind like faint echoes.
Each one starting the same way:
Dear diary,
Dear diary,
Dear diary…
As if she had written those words many times,
forgotten them,
and then written them again.
One entry rose to the surface, clear and sharp:
Dear diary,
I don't remember who I am.
Not properly.
Not honestly.
Not in a way that feels whole.
Yet the way I write…
It couldn't be my first time writing.
My handwriting feels like art —
like a sewing thread that's been mastered,
pulled, guided, and threaded
over and over
and over
and over again.
As if perfection lives in my fingers
even when my mind is blank.
My hands tremble.
My body tenses.
Yet my mind feels so free.
Why is it like this?
Who even am I?
Sometimes I feel hands around my skin.
Warm. Cold. Gone.
Yet there's nothing there.
Why do I always feel on edge?
Why does my heart feel cold,
empty?
…I don't know.
But I feel like it used to be full.
And warm.
Sometimes I see a door.
Black.
Closed.
Waiting.
But when I reach for it…
it disappears like it was never there.
Why?
Sometimes I hear footsteps creaking on a wooden floorboard.
But when I look down…
I'm standing on grass.
I witnessed Kang's eyes
when I cut the goblin in half.
He looked at me like he'd seen something he didn't expect.
But if anything,
I was confused.
My slice —
why did it feel like cutting into butter?
Why was it so smooth?
So natural?
How many times have I done this?
Why do my hands move so fluently?
Why does killing feel like memory?
Who am I?
What is this place?
Who is
Kwon Sohyun?
And who was
Jane the villager?
This girl Kang told me I was
days before.
Why did he know before I did?
It's confusing.
I don't understand anything.
Who I am.
Where I came from.
What I was.
Dear diary —
how many times have I written on you?
How many versions of me existed
before this one?
How many selves did I lose?
How many did I abandon?
I don't know.
—Sohyun
Present – Floor 5
The memory faded.
But the confusion didn't.
Sohyun stood in the dim forest, katana low, posture calm.
The air was heavy with sap and silence.
Green light filtered through the leaves in thin, trembling strands.
Even the wind felt cautious.
The world tree boss towered before them.
Its scarlet eyes glowed with patient malice.
Beside her, Kang trembled.
His breath cracked.
His grip shook.
His stance faltered.
Sohyun watched him quietly.
No words.
No expression.
No comfort.
Her own stance was perfect —
balanced, steady, practiced.
Her body knew exactly what to do,
even if her mind didn't know why.
The world tree leaned forward.
Roots shifted.
The ground vibrated.
The forest held its breath.
Kang froze.
Sohyun didn't.
Her muscles tightened instinctively,
as if they had done this a thousand times
in a life she could no longer remember.
The world tree boss moved.
And so did she