The dawn broke over Seoul, its golden light piercing through the cracks in the blinds and casting fractured beams across the sleek dorm room. Elion stirred from a restless sleep, his new body weighed down by fatigue and unfamiliar sensations. He sat up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for a blade that wasn't there.
This world was unnervingly quiet. No distant roar of monsters. No clinking of armor. Just the muffled hum of machinery and the occasional distant chatter from the streets below.
System Update: Integration 7% Complete. Mana Pathways Realigning.
The translucent panel hovered before him again, its sudden appearance no longer startling. Instead, it brought a grim sense of purpose.
"What are you doing to me?" he asked, his voice low and sharp. "This 'integration'—what does it mean?"
The panel offered no reply, only displaying the same cold, mechanical messages. Elion scowled, swiping his hand through the projection, hoping to banish it.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Before he could answer, one of the young men from last night poked his head inside.
"Hyung, are you awake?" the boy asked, his tone tentative.
Elion nodded, though the term "hyung" felt strange to him. The boy stepped inside, balancing a tray of food in his hands. He looked younger, his round face full of earnestness.
"I brought you breakfast," the boy said, setting the tray on a small table near the bed. "You didn't eat much last night, and... well, we're all worried about you."
Elion studied the boy, his expression guarded. He hadn't had much time to consider these people—the so-called bandmates of this body. Yet there was something genuine in the boy's concern that softened his suspicion.
"What's your name?" Elion asked abruptly.
The boy blinked in surprise. "It's Min-joon. Hyung, are you feeling okay? You... don't seem like yourself."
"I'm fine," Elion lied. "Thank you for the food."
Min-joon hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but eventually left the room with a small bow. Elion turned to the tray, eyeing the neatly arranged dishes. The food looked strange—colorful and meticulously crafted. He picked up a pair of metal sticks that had been placed on the tray, turning them over in his hands.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" he muttered.
After a few clumsy attempts, he managed to grasp a piece of what he assumed was food. The taste was unlike anything he'd ever known—rich and layered, with hints of sweetness and spice.
By mid-morning, Hye-jin arrived at the dorm, her presence as commanding as ever. She swept into the living room where Elion sat, her gaze immediately locking onto him.
"You look slightly less like a ghost today," she said, dropping a folder onto the coffee table. "Good. Because we have work to do."
"Work?" Elion echoed, his tone flat.
"Your schedule," Hye-jin said briskly. "We've kept things light for the next few days, but the label expects you back in action soon. That means rehearsals, interviews, photoshoots—you name it."
She flipped open the folder, revealing a meticulously detailed calendar. Elion's eyes skimmed over the strange terms—"MV shoot," "choreo practice," "variety show taping." It was overwhelming, a flood of obligations he didn't understand.
"I can't do this," he said bluntly.
Hye-jin crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "You don't have a choice, Jin-seok. The world doesn't stop just because you're having an identity crisis."
Elion stood abruptly, his frustration boiling over. "You don't understand. This isn't my life. I don't know these people, these expectations. I don't even know myself anymore."
Hye-jin's expression softened, a rare flicker of empathy breaking through her tough exterior. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice quieter now. "I know it's overwhelming. But you're not alone. Min-joon, the others—they care about you. And so do I, in my own way. If you need time, take it. But don't give up."
Elion looked away, her words stirring a strange conflict within him. He didn't trust her fully, but there was something undeniably steadfast about her.
That evening, Elion wandered through the dorm, exploring the space that was supposed to be his home. The walls were lined with photographs and awards, each one a testament to Jin-seok's success. Yet to Elion, they felt like artifacts of a stranger's life.
He found himself in a small studio room, its walls padded with foam and its shelves cluttered with equipment. A microphone stood in the center, surrounded by tangled wires and a keyboard.
Curiosity pulled him closer. He brushed his fingers against the microphone, a faint hum of energy sparking at his touch. It was subtle, but unmistakable—a whisper of mana.
"Is this... your doing?" he asked aloud, addressing the invisible force that had brought him here.
The translucent panel reappeared, its words stark against the dim light.
System Integration 10% Complete. New Skill Unlocked: Resonant Voice.
Before Elion could question it, a new message appeared.
Test Your Skill. Sing.
The command felt absurd. Elion had spent his life commanding armies, not melodies. But the faint warmth of mana in his veins urged him forward. Tentatively, he stepped up to the microphone, his mind racing.
He closed his eyes and let his instincts take over. A low, resonant hum escaped his lips, the sound vibrating through the room. It was rough at first, unpolished and raw, but as he continued, the notes began to flow more smoothly, weaving together into something unexpectedly powerful.
The mana responded, amplifying his voice in a way that sent shivers down his spine. The sound wasn't just heard—it was felt, a wave of energy that seemed to ripple through the air.
When he finally stopped, the room fell silent, the echoes of his voice lingering like a haunting melody. The panel flickered once more.
Skill Test Successful. Mana Integration Advancing.
Elion stepped back, his heart pounding. This body—this life—was foreign to him. But the mana was real. It was his. And if the system wanted him to adapt, then he would.