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    Light streamed in through the gap in the window. In a room with not a single proper blind, morning had arrived early. Ha-yoon, sprawled on the blanket as if collapsed, furrowed his brow as he slowly opened his eyes.

    “Ah….”

    A deeply dejected voice echoed in the space. With each movement, sounds of pain escaped him and his face twisted in agony. Barely able to turn his head, Ha-yoon glanced up at the ceiling before exhaling a ragged breath.

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    His entire body throbbed with pain—there wasn’t a single part that felt whole. His eyelids were heavy, his limbs numb, and his stomach churned from hours of emptiness. No matter how he thought about it, yesterday had been exceptionally cursed.

    “Not even a son of a bitch…” 

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    He muttered, glaring at the stained ceiling. Even a dog, he thought, wouldn’t roll around this much—waking up in the scrapyard, getting soaked in the rain, narrowly dodging death while evading machines, and then encountering that mysterious man…

    “……”

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    His mind drifted naturally back to that dark alley from last night. He recalled the man clad in a black combat uniform who handled machines with practiced ease—a man he was convinced had come from the center of the Field, completely merged with the darkness. He knew nothing about him, yet their encounter had unleashed a flood of questions. But even if he had the answers, there was nothing he could do now. He simply didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it.

    Shaking off the thoughts, Ha-yoon sighed and forced himself up. His body creaked with every movement, and a bitter, involuntary laugh escaped him. After repeating death so many times, his body had deteriorated accordingly. Even as his wounds healed, the accumulated pain remained. The weight of his exhaustion pressed down on him relentlessly.

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    He managed to hobble his way to the desk. The dusty, neglected house hardly looked like a place where someone lived. All it contained was a desk, a blanket, and a small drawer. Sunlight poured through the murky dust suspended in the air.

    “Why does the sun love me so much? It’s so infuriating…”  

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    He seethed at the treacherous sun that set all too quickly. For humans, the only true time was daylight, and instead of cherishing that limited gift, Ha-yoon raged. He resented the stolen night and felt deeply wronged.

    Right after the first machine war broke out, it was said that machines unleashed their savagery day and night. The vast majority of humanity met death then, becoming unwilling test subjects. Ironically, it was the humans who sided with the machines that ended that vicious cycle.

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    They acted as if they were politicians—establishing a government, setting up a system. That was when the System Core was born. Since then, humans have been placed under inescapable surveillance. Identification chips and curfews were introduced, and all of it filled Ha-yoon with disgust.

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    “Ugh…”

    As if realizing the depth of his thoughts, his body shuddered. He rested his pale face on the desk and exhaled a long, labored breath. Soon, his mind grew as foggy as a misty morning.

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    This time, recovery was especially slow. It wasn’t that the pain was unbearable—just the memory of his disfigured face was still vivid. Under different circumstances, he might have had to lie down for days after yesterday’s ordeal, but reality left him no choice. To survive, he had to keep moving. To avoid becoming a puppet for those damn machines, he had to fight.

    “……”

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    Ha-yoon scooped up the water pooling on the cluttered desk and gulped it down as if it were the elixir of life. Drops trickled along his lips as he exhaled deeply.

    “First, I need to wash up…”

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    A vacant stare wandered through his mind. His dark eyes now took in the faded wallpaper as if it had lost its true color. It was as though the life he once knew had vanished—leaving only bitterness.

    The bathroom was no better than the rest of the room. Cracks marred the walls, and the mirror lay shattered. A heavy musty odor filled the air.

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    “Hoo…”

    Standing beneath the cascade of water, Ha-yoon bit his lips. His once-white face was now drained and pale. His bare body was covered in scars—each a mark from the times he had died. The newer wounds throbbed with a terrible pain.

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    “Fuck, my body isn’t meant to be admired…”  

    Muttering in a forced, detached tone, he washed himself. He scrubbed especially hard at the scarred areas, hoping even the faintest trace would fade away.

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    Every scar ached and weighed on him, but the one on his left chest hurt the most. Though it had mostly healed, it still burned fiercely at times—as if demanding that he remember what he’d forgotten.

    At one point, in an effort to fill the emptiness in his mind, he had tried to document every detail. It soon became clear that it was nothing more than a futile effort. Day by day, Ha-yoon grew to despise seeing his scars. Instead of fading memories, the vivid marks made him feel like a monster.

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    That’s why he had shattered every mirror in the house—he couldn’t bear to see his own reflection, afraid it might resemble one of the machines roaming outside.

    “……”  

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    Cold water dripped down his face, its droplets resembling tears—even as his features remained painfully parched. The shower didn’t end until his hands and feet had grown numb.

    “Maybe I should go to the shelter…”

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    In his battered state, venturing far was practically a death wish. Naturally, his thoughts turned to the shelter. The underground shelter on the outskirts, where people from Area E gathered, was also the place where Ha-yoon had grown up—a place he had once tried to forget, only to be drawn back as if by fate.

    “They’d be shocked by the look on your face,” he imagined, picturing how startled everyone would be. With a brief, soft chuckle, Ha-yoon quickly set himself in motion. Now that he had a destination, there was no time to dawdle.

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    He tossed aside the towel he had been holding and rummaged through the desk drawer. He pulled out the gun hidden deep inside, counted the remaining bullets, and then slung it at his waist. He adjusted his clothes so the gun wouldn’t be visible—and then prepared to head outside. Or at least, that was his intention, if not for the long shadow darkening his view.

    “Good morning.”

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    A voice warmer than the pouring sunlight greeted him. Startled by the sound that caressed his ears, Ha-yoon lifted his head and saw a man standing with his hand in his pocket.

    Their eyes met, and the man smiled brightly, waving gently. Bathed in sunlight, his face shone brilliantly, dazzling Ha-yoon. Instinctively, Ha-yoon took a step back and fiddled with his gun.

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    “Did you sleep well?”

    “……”

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    “I didn’t sleep well. The sound of the rain was too loud.

    Even as Ha-yoon maintained a wary posture, the man laughed. His daylight face was so surreal it bordered on absurd—noble and relaxed, with an unmistakable air of power.

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    “Maybe because it’s raining, the day feels unusually nice today. How about we take a walk together?”

    Ha-yoon’s expression hardened further. How did this man know exactly where to find him? Ha-yoon had never been implanted with an identification chip—there was no record for the Core to read, no trace at all.

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    “I know what you’re thinking… but it’s not like that, so relax,” the man said casually, as if taking the initiative. Ha-yoon tensed his grip on his gun, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

    “You think you know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

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    “You’re assuming I’m one of those from over there—that I came from the center of the Field.”  

    He didn’t deny it. Ha-yoon glared at him. In the light, the color of his eyes was mysterious—almost dark blue, twinkling with a subtle smile.

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    “I’ve lived in Area E for a long time, but I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

    “I came from the far end.”

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    A lackluster shrug followed his words.

    “Even if it isn’t as good as old Earth, the Field is vast.”  

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    That wasn’t wrong. Aside from the central Area S, the Field spanned Areas A, B, C, D, and E. The outskirts extended far beyond this vicinity.

    “How did you know to come here?”

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    Though Ha-yoon suspected as much, doubt still rose. The man was unnervingly refined. The weapon he carried wasn’t something an ordinary person from the outskirts would wield. If he were from deeper inside, there’d be no reason to venture into Area E.

    “You’re not asking because you don’t know, right? Just take a look around—you’d see.” 

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    “……”  

    “This is the only place where I sensed any presence. That’s why I came here—I was lucky you were around.”

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    The man shrugged in response, his face still wearing that relaxed expression.

    “What brings you here?”

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    “I figured you must be in pain.”

    His dark blue eyes swept over Ha-yoon’s neck. Unlike his otherwise scarred lips, his gaze was deeply penetrating. Ha-yoon frowned and tugged at the hem of his loosely draped garment, which concealed a clearly defined scar.

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    “It doesn’t look like an old scar.”

    “What exactly is it that you want?”

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    “Ah, that…”  

    He hesitated, then laughed as if all the air had been let out of him, tilting his head. His hair fell naturally, covering his forehead as shards of broken sunlight melded into his golden locks.

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    “I’m here to pull some tricks.”

    The gentle, subdued tone was unmistakably playful.

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