Dalshik Jo was about to get up after finishing his meal, but stopped.A middle-aged man sealing the lid on a cup of ramen caught his eye.
"Keep your head down and eat quiet. This ain't that kind of place."
His voice wasn't sharp, but the dull tone sliced like a worn-out blade.
Dalshik didn't lift his head. But he remembered that face.
Three months from now, he disappears. Labeled a whistleblower.
Officially, it was suicide.But Dalshik knew better.It wasn't suicide. It was erasure.
That night, back in his tiny studio apartment, Dalshik collapsed onto his bed without even showering.
The moment he closed his eyes, a message seeped into his mind.
[Warning: Emotional activity detected.Anger levels rising → Potential alignment error.Caution: Emotional suppression is recommended.]
His heart pounded.Back in the cafeteria, when he made eye contact with Hyunsoo Kang—Without realizing it, he'd felt both fear and anger.
Are my emotions being monitored, too...?
He clutched his head.It felt like something was analyzing his internal state and turning it into data.
"So now I have to control my emotions just to survive?"
Another line flickered through his thoughts.
[To enhance system response accuracy, emotional functions may be subject to deletion.]
The voice felt disturbingly human.
That dawn.
Rain poured in an underground parking lot.The concrete floor was soaked—rainwater mixed with blood.
From his radio came a garbled voice.
"Mr. Dalshik? Can you hear me? Please respond."
But Dalshik could no longer speak.
He lay motionless, staring up at the droplets falling from above.Then... footsteps. Someone was approaching.
"...Dalshik Jo. This is as far as you go."
It was Dohun Han.
That moment—The cold pavement, the cooling blood, the pain of abandonment—It all remained within him.
Dalshik opened his eyes, embracing that memory.
This time would be different.No emotions. No mistakes. Only precision.
That was the only way to survive.
The next morning.Hallway. Server room. Dawn.
The keycard had been cloned a long time ago.Before the regression, this room had been accessible for only three days.Dohun had used that window. Quietly.
The memory remained.His movements. His voice. The missing logs.
Dalshik silently inserted a USB stick.Not to copy.To trace the pattern.
Search.Backup.14:17 to 14:19.
0KB.Empty.Except—one file below.
_A03.vlog
The moment he opened it, his skull buzzed.Just like that time.The scent of being wiped out.
Black and white footage.No sound.And then—A voice.
"...Is he dead?""Couldn't confirm. Nothing left behind.""Name.""...Dalshik Jo."
That moment,a prickling sensation clamped the back of his neck.
They were talking about this time.Now.In this current timeline—Saying Dalshik had already been erased.
Who?Why?And how?
His ear itched, like static was bleeding through.It wasn't the first time someone had tried to erase him.
That mission.The one where the backup vanished.Dohun handed him a cup of coffee.And then smiled.
"Sorry."
Not an apology.A sentence of execution.
Then it hit.A pulse of certainty that tore through his skull.
[Lock override detected.No Observer interference.Trial conditions satisfied.]
This wasn't just a message.It was a command.Something scraped past his thoughts, forcing him to move.
Dalshik pulled the USB and restored the setup.The back of his head throbbed.That feeling—someone watching him.Not paranoia.Something real.
Something outside memory was in motion.
Morning.Cafeteria. In front of the vending machine.
Thud.The paper cup dropped.Like always.But not today.
Dalshik slowly turned.
"Hyunsoo Kang."
There he stood.Smile faint.His timing, unnervingly perfect—like it had been preloaded.
"You're quite observant, Mr. Dalshik.""...What do you mean?"
"You're familiar with deleted scenes, aren't you?"
Coffee spilled over.Not a mistake.A deliberate gesture.A signal. A method to communicate with the system.
"You're being watched, right?""…"
"Or are you the one doing the watching?"
The end of his sentence was drowned in a smile.But Dalshik knew.That smile wasn't real.
Hyunsoo gripped a coffee cup.But he hadn't pressed any buttons.Dalshik caught it immediately.
There was already a cup below.And yet, Hyunsoo held an empty one—like it had been placed there beforehand.
His hands, his face, even his breathing—Too perfect. Too wrong.
"Choose the side that lives. For now."
After he left, Dalshik muttered,
"When did you start watching? How much do you know?"
Dalshik pulled out his secondhand phone from his waist.
Before he could even power it on—a thought arrived.
[In 2 minutes, left corridor entry = 61% survival rate.Alternate route = 83%.Route change recommended.]
He couldn't see it.But he could feel it.Like someone whispering directly into his spine.
And exactly 2 minutes later—An electrical accident occurred in the first-floor warehouse.One employee died on the spot.
"..."
Dalshik opened his memo app.
[2025.06.16]
Decision directive detected
System reaction sensitivity increasing
Partial video restoration confirmed
This wasn't just a survival game.He was a target. A test subject.
Then another message pressed into his brain.
Continue. This is your opportunity.Not a thought—a sensation forcibly injected into his consciousness.
Lunchtime. Cafeteria TV murmured in the background.
"This morning at 9 AM, Hanseong Group's affiliate Kyungwoon Construction faced accusations of internal abuse…"
Dalshik didn't look up. He listened quietly.That company would crumble in three years.He already knew.
A slow smile curled on his lips.
"This time, I ask the questions first."
It wasn't a vow.It was instinct. Burned into his brain.
[Internal path unlocked.Entering designated 'trial.'Dalshik Jo. Are you prepared to survive?]
And then—he heard laughter.
Not in the air.Inside his mind.
It wasn't the first time.Dalshik knew it well.
This was only the beginning.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop.Hyunsoo Kang smoked in silence.
The wind was still.But the smoke spiraled slowly into the sky.
He thought back to the vending machine.To Dalshik's stare.
He hadn't said anything. But he had felt it.
So… he's finally moving.
Hyunsoo smiled.And looked up at the sky.
Observer log uploaded.
The same message—in his head too.