Jin-seok—or rather, Elion—paced the length of his hospital room, his bare feet brushing against the cold floor.
His body felt alien, a constant reminder that he no longer lived in the world he once knew. The translucent panel had disappeared, but its presence lingered like a phantom in his mind.
System Activated. Infinite Mana Integration in Progress.
Those words repeated endlessly in his thoughts, mocking him with their cryptic nature.
Infinite mana. A blessing? Or a curse? He flexed his hands, trying to summon the familiar warmth of his mana, but nothing happened.
"This body," he muttered under his breath, his voice sharp with frustration. "It's like trying to wield a blade made of air. Useless."
The faint sound of a knock interrupted his brooding.
Before he could answer, Hye-jin entered the room. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, her presence as commanding as it had been earlier. She carried a folder under one arm and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
"You're restless," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "That's a good sign. It means you're recovering."
Elion didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the window. The world outside was a bustling sea of motion—machines speeding down paved roads, towering buildings made of glass and steel reaching for the heavens. It was a stark contrast to the rolling hills and stone castles of his homeland.
"I need answers," he said finally, turning to face her. "Who am I supposed to be in this... world?"
Hye-jin arched an eyebrow. "You really hit your head, didn't you? Or are you trying to pull some kind of stunt for sympathy?"
When he didn't reply, her expression softened—just a fraction.
"Fine. If you're serious, let's start with the basics. Your name is Park Jin-seok. You're the lead vocalist of Nova Luna, the biggest boy band in Korea. No—scratch that—the biggest in the world. Your face is on billboards from Seoul to New York. Fans adore you, tabloids stalk you, and companies throw millions at you for the chance to have you endorse their products."
She placed the folder on the table beside his bed and opened it, revealing a collection of photographs.
Elion stared down at the glossy images.
Each one depicted this body—Jin-seok's body—smiling brightly on stage, surrounded by other young men in coordinated outfits.
"That's you," Hye-jin continued. "Or at least, that's who you're supposed to be. But lately, you've been... different."
"Different?" Elion asked, narrowing his eyes.
Hye-jin sighed, her mask of professionalism slipping. "You've been distant. Moody. More withdrawn than usual. The pressure has been getting to you, and the media hasn't been kind."
She gestured to another image, this one of Jin-seok—his face pale, his eyes sunken—leaving a building under a barrage of flashing cameras.
"The suicide attempt," she said, her voice quieter now. "It wasn't exactly a surprise to those of us close to you. But the fans? They're devastated."
Elion felt a strange pang in his chest, a heaviness that wasn't his own. These memories, these emotions—they didn't belong to him, yet they clung to him like shadows. He shook his head, trying to dispel the intrusive thoughts.
"This life," he said slowly, his voice steady. "It's not mine. I don't belong here."
Hye-jin frowned. "You're not making sense. I think you need more rest."
"I need to leave this place," he said, his tone firmer now.
"You're not going anywhere," she replied, her voice snapping with authority. "You've been discharged, yes, but you're still under contract. The label expects you back at the dorms by tonight. And don't think you can run off. The media will hound you to the ends of the earth."
Elion clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. He was a warrior, a leader, a man who carved his own destiny. Yet here he was, trapped in a fragile body with a life he didn't understand.
Hye-jin studied him for a moment before adding, "Look, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but if you want to survive in this world, you'll have to play your part. Otherwise, the industry will chew you up and spit you out."
Later that evening, Elion found himself seated in the back of a sleek, black vehicle. The city of Seoul unfolded around him, its streets alive with neon lights and a thrumming energy that made his skin crawl.
Hye-jin sat beside him, scrolling through her phone with practiced efficiency. She had insisted on accompanying him to the dorms, partly to ensure he didn't "try anything stupid" and partly, he suspected, to keep an eye on him.
The car stopped outside a towering building with reflective windows that seemed to swallow the sky. Hye-jin led him inside, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
"This is where you live," she said, gesturing to a door marked with a keypad. "Your bandmates are waiting upstairs. Try not to scare them."
Elion nodded mutely, following her lead. The dorm was surprisingly spacious, with sleek furniture and walls adorned with framed posters of Nova Luna.
Three young men were gathered in the living room, their faces lighting up when they saw him.
"Hyung!" one of them called, rushing forward to clasp his shoulders. He had a boyish face and a bright smile that contrasted sharply with the weariness in Elion's heart.
"You're back," the boy continued. "We were so worried. Don't ever do that again, okay?"
Elion forced a nod, unsure of how to respond. The others approached, their expressions a mix of relief and apprehension.
The tallest of the three crossed his arms, his voice firm. "You've got some explaining to do, Jin-seok. We can't keep covering for you if you're just going to—"
"Enough," Hye-jin interrupted, her tone sharp. "He needs time to adjust. Give him space."
The tension in the room eased slightly, but Elion could feel their gazes lingering on him, questioning and concerned.
That night, as he lay in the unfamiliar bed, the translucent panel appeared again, hovering above him like a ghost.
System Update: Integration 5% Complete. Mana Channels Stabilizing.
A faint warmth spread through his body, a flicker of the power he had once wielded. It was faint, but it was there.
"What are you?" he whispered to the panel, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.
No answer came, but the panel shifted, displaying a new message.
Objective: Adapt to Host's Life. Survival Probability: 32%.
Elion stared at the words, his chest tightening. This wasn't just a new life—it was a test, a battle he hadn't chosen. And yet, as the warmth of mana pulsed faintly in his veins, he felt a flicker of determination.
If this world demanded he become Park Jin-seok, then so be it. But he would find answers. He would uncover the truth behind his presence here and the system that bound him.
Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that he had never been one to accept defeat.