Morning came too soon. Prince woke before dawn, his body trained to function on minimal sleep. He sat up in bed, listening to the quiet hum of the house. His parents were still asleep. The air smelled of fresh linen, something he hadn't experienced in years.
He moved silently, stretching his limbs with precision. His muscles were lean, built not from exercise but from necessity—years of labor, starvation, and survival had carved him into something efficient.
Dressed in the school uniform his mother had laid out, he examined himself in the mirror. The boy who stared back was unfamiliar—dark eyes, sharp but soft features, an appearance that could blend into a crowd. He adjusted the tie, smoothed his blazer, and relaxed his posture.
"Blend in."
That was the rule.
At breakfast, his sister, Hyejin, watched him cautiously. She was younger than him, around fourteen. He remembered her only vaguely—her face in the framed pictures, a small child who had lost her brother too soon. Now, she was a teenager, but her eyes held uncertainty.
"You really don't remember anything?" she asked, pushing her rice around her plate.
Prince took a bite, chewing slowly. "Some things," he answered carefully.
His father set down his newspaper. "The doctor said memory gaps are normal. He'll adjust in time."
"They're watching you."
The voice in his head whispered like a warning. He knew they were studying him, waiting for signs that he wasn't broken beyond repair.
School was worse.
He stepped onto the campus of Shinhwa High, a prestigious private school in Seoul. The students were loud, carefree, moving in groups. A few glanced at him, whispers beginning immediately.
"New student?"
"Wait… isn't he that kid who went missing?"
"No way. That's him?"
He ignored them, walking with measured steps. His goal was simple—observe, adapt, and blend in. But the moment he entered the classroom, he knew it wouldn't be easy.
"Class, we have a new student today," the teacher announced. "This is Kang Prince."
A murmur spread through the students. Prince gave them a polite nod, eyes scanning the room in an instant—seventeen students, twelve males, five females. Four potential threats based on body language. Three students with possible interest in him. Two girls whispering while sneaking glances.
"Prince-ssi, you can take the empty seat by Han Soyeon."
A girl in the second row raised her head at the mention of her name. She had long dark hair, intelligent eyes, and an expression that was unreadable. Prince took his seat beside her without hesitation.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?"
It was a test.
"I'm fine," he answered, voice smooth, perfectly neutral.
She studied him for a second longer before turning back to her notes.
"Interesting."
The day went on, the same routine—teachers lecturing, students gossiping, and Prince playing his role. But beneath it all, he was calculating. Watching. Learning.
Because behind the mask of normalcy, he was already planning.
And soon, the hunt would begin.