The question "Who am I?" It became a constant echo in Kim-Do's mind. It resounded in the silence of her room, in the hubbub of the corridors, in Yu-Ra's confused gaze and Min-Ji's pensive expression. He was no longer a mere imposter; he was a being in the making, and the process was painful.
The system, after a period of observation, returned with a quest of deceptive simplicity.
"'
[FUNDAMENTAL QUEST: MIROIR TEST]
Goal: Look in the mirror and say your name.
• Duration: Before midnight.
• Reward: "Identity Core" stabilized. +10% Synchronicity.
• Failure: Increased cognitive dissonance. Risk of "Dereliction."
"'
Kim-Do read the quest, a icy shivering shivering through his back. It was the most personal, intrusive quest he had ever received. His real name. The one he had not uttered, or even fully thought of, since he arrived here. He knew it, somewhere, buried under layers of fear and lies, but he resisted tapping into it. It was his last bastion, his last proof that another life had existed.
Failing meant "Dereliction." The very word was cold and menacing. Loss of self. Madness.
He spent the day avoiding his reflection. The windows of buildings, the black screens of phones, everything became a potentially reflective surface. His anxiety grew as the clock turned.
Finally, at 11:45 p.m., having no choice, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror. The flashing fluorescent light gave his skin a cadaverous hue. Kim-Do's face stared at him - cold brown eyes, scar, angular jaw.
He opened his mouth. No sound came out of it.
My name is...
His mind wavered. Images of the real Kim-Do, his fighting, his rage, arose. Then blurry images from his previous life - a computer keyboard, the glow of a screen, a sense of loneliness that had nothing to do with current fear.
My name is...
The pressure increased. He felt a sharp pain behind his eyes, as if his brain was rebelling. The system demanded a truth that its own psyche refused to deliver. If he said Kim-Do's name, he would lie and fail. If he said his real name, he would lose the last connection to who he was, fully admitting that this life was now his.
He panted, his hands clutched from the sink. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"I... I am..." His voice was a rattle.
Suddenly, another image crossed his mind. Not a memory, but a sensation. That of waking up in this body. Pure terror. Absolute confusion. And in the midst of all this, one thought, one thought, that had persisted: Survive.
It was neither the name before nor the assumed name. It was an intention. A will.
He looked up and looked his reflection straight into his eyes. The fear was still there, but it was channeled, becoming a part of him.
"I am the one who survives," he said in a hoarse but clear voice.
It wasn't his old name. It wasn't "Kim-Do." It was a statement of intent. An identity forged in the furnace of his ordeal.
The mirror did not break. The earth did not shake. But in his head, the system emitted a sound he had never heard before: a deep, almost harmonic hum.
"'
[BASICAL QUEST: MIROIR TEST - Atypical RESULT]
Analysis of the analysis... Answer: "The one who survives."
[Validation]... Transition identity accepted.
[Identity kernel stabilized. +10% synchronicity.]
[Reduced cognitive dissonance.]
"'
He didn't give the name the system expected. He had given his own definition. And the system had accepted it.
The synchronicity that inounded it was different. Less violent, less invasive. It was as if the system had recalibrated to its new frequency. The memories of the real Kim-Do were still there, but they seemed more... distant. Like searchable archives, not as intrusive voices.
He looked at his reflection again. The eyes were always Kim-Do's, but the person who lived in them had made a fundamental decision. He was no longer fleeing. He was no longer just playing a role. He was.
The next day, when he walked through the halls of the school, something had changed. It was not in the eyes of others, but in himself. Fear was still there, but it was no longer paralyzing. It had become a fuel.
Yu-Ra looked at him, and his forehead wrinkled. You look... different."
"I am the same," he replied. And it was the truth. He was always the one who survived. But he now understood that survival was not about perfect concealment. It was a question of adaptation. To become what the situation demanded, while keeping a core of will intact.
Even Kang Seong, as he met him, paused for a moment, his analytical gaze seeming to perceive the subtle change.
Kim-Do looked back at him, without hostility, without fear. Just a silent recognition.
The game wasn't over. She was even more dangerous than ever. But he was no longer a distraught pawn. He was a gambler, imperfect, frightened, but determined. And he had finally learned the rules of his own game.