Part 1

Jin was trapped in a dream—a dark, oppressive dream, full of fragmented whispers and cold, hollow warnings. He could hear a voice, distorted and distant, warning him:

"You are corrupting... If you fail, it will consume you..."

The voice rang in his ears like a death knell, the weight of it pressing on his chest, dragging him deeper into the dark abyss of uncertainty. The coldness of the words seeped into his bones, and an icy chill wrapped around his heart. Panic surged through him, but before he could grasp onto any thoughts, the weight of the dream crushed him, and everything faded to black.

Then—suddenly—the sharp sound of an alarm clock shattered the silence.

Jin shot up, gasping for air, his heart pounding. His surroundings felt so… normal. The walls of his old room in Seoul were familiar—the desk covered with books, the worn-out posters on the walls, the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. He was in his bed. Safe. At home.

But the dream... It lingered, still echoing in his mind, cold and suffocating. His hands trembled as he wiped his face. "Am I alive?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, his throat dry from the remnants of the nightmare. "Was it all just a dream?"

Before he could dwell on it further, a voice called from the door, pulling him back to reality.

"Oh, Jin, you had a bad dream again, poor kid."

Jin blinked in confusion. The voice was unmistakable. His mother's voice. Her voice was warm and comforting, filled with the same concern he remembered from his youth. She stood in the doorway, her figure framed by the soft light pouring in from the hallway, her face etched with concern. Her hand was gently resting on her cheek, as if the moment required her soft touch.

Jin's chest tightened, and a strange dizziness overcame him. He didn't know what to believe. Was he in his childhood home? Was he really here, in this peaceful, mundane place?

"Darling, Jin, have bad dreams again? You need to be stricter about his video game usage," his mom said with a hint of concern, the words laced with an affectionate annoyance.

Jin looked at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. This didn't feel right. "Late? 16?" His mind raced. "But I was 18 last time... I was 18, working, struggling to survive... How is this possible?"

Tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden, as the fragments of the dream began to slip away like sand between his fingers. His hands gripped the edge of the blanket, his chest constricting with confusion and fear. Was it all just a bad dream? A twisted, cruel nightmare that he had woken from?

Before he could process any of it, his mother interrupted his thoughts, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying?"

Jin wiped at his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but the raw emotions left him speechless. "It was a bad dream, a really bad dream... You all died, and I was alone. I couldn't do anything..." His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as he clung to the remnants of a reality that was slipping through his fingers.

His mother smiled gently, that comforting, familiar smile that always made him feel safe. "No one died, Jin. We're all here, alive, with you. Now wash your face, or you'll be late for school." She patted his head, a soft and familiar gesture that almost made him feel like he had never left this place.

Her words, though comforting, didn't seem to fit. How could she be here? How could everything be the same as before? How could he be 16 again, back in his childhood home when the world he'd experienced before had been so dark and so real?

Jin nodded, his throat tight, and pushed himself out of bed. The room felt too small, too cramped, as if the walls were closing in on him. He stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, hoping that the coldness would clear the fog in his mind. But it didn't.

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The same face. The same body. But it felt wrong. It felt like he didn't belong here, like he wasn't supposed to be this version of himself. He had been through too much—faced too many trials, endured the darkness of that world, felt the weight of betrayal and loss.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Shaking his head, Jin left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. His father sat at the table, reading the newspaper. The sound of his father's soft humming as he turned the pages was almost soothing, yet it felt so out of place. This wasn't the world Jin had been in just moments ago.

"Did you hear your mom? Hurry up, or you'll be late for school," his father said, his voice distant, absorbed in the newspaper.

Jin stood frozen for a moment, his gaze fixed on the back of his father's head. The scene was so normal, so painfully ordinary, yet Jin couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was this real? Was this truly his life, or had he somehow ended up in a strange dream? A dream where nothing made sense?

He glanced at the clock on the wall. His heart thudded in his chest as the weight of the moment settled on him. He was late. His past life, the trials, the shadow world, everything—it all seemed like a distant memory, something that could have been a figment of his imagination.

But deep inside, he knew the truth. He felt the pull, the certainty that this wasn't the end. That this peaceful, mundane world was just another layer to the puzzle. There was more waiting for him, just beyond the veil of this so-called reality.

Part 2 – A Moment of Doubt

Jin stood frozen, the words from the voice still echoing in his mind. Was he corrupting? Was this trial really about him—or something much worse? His head spun, unable to comprehend the magnitude of it all.

The cold reminder came again, like an icy claw sinking into his chest: If you fail, it will consume you.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, everything felt heavier than before. His body trembled involuntarily as he shifted his gaze around the strange purple mist that surrounded him. The colors, the shadows, the whispers—it all felt suffocating, unnatural. But somehow, a part of him still refused to fully believe it.

Suddenly, something caught his eye.

A shadow, creeping along the edge of his peripheral vision—a dark shape shifting in the purple fog. It felt wrong. Not just the shape of it, but how it moved. Like it knew him. Like it had been watching him for a long time.

He turned to look fully, but it was gone, swallowed by the mist.

Jin's heart raced.

The sense of unease settled deeper, gnawing at his core. There was something familiar about that fleeting shadow, something that tugged at his memories but was too distant to grasp.

Why is this happening to me? His thoughts raged against the growing sense of disconnection he felt.

A voice—one that didn't sound like it was from the mist but from within him—broke through the confusion.

"Are you really who you think you are?"

The question seemed to ripple through the air itself. His breath stilled. Was this part of the Trial? Or was it something else entirely? The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't commanding. But it was enough to crack the fragile veneer of control he had been holding onto.

Jin's gaze darted to the misty horizon, his thoughts struggling to form coherent answers. Am I really who I think I am?

Memories of his old life—his family, his struggles, and his painful past—flashed before his eyes. But they were suddenly fragmented, like broken shards that no longer fit together. They were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle scattered on the floor, and Jin couldn't figure out which parts went where.

A flicker of recognition surged through him as his eyes caught something in the distance: the door.

The golden door—the one that had haunted him in his nightmares. But this time, it was different. There was something new about it. Etched into the wood was a symbol.

An All-Seeing Eye, carved into the door in intricate detail, its lid slightly cracked as though it were watching, waiting.

Jin staggered back, his legs trembling, fear rising in his chest. Was that... was that the same door he had seen before? Or was this a new part of his reality?

His hands clenched at his sides. This had to be a dream, right? This couldn't be real.

And yet, as he tried to step away, the door loomed larger in his vision, drawing him closer. The voice from within him came again—stronger this time.

"The door is the path. The path is your choice. You cannot run from the truth of what you have become."

Jin's pulse hammered in his temples. The weight of those words bore down on him. He wanted to run, wanted to escape this nightmare, but his legs wouldn't move. His body was rooted to the ground as though the door itself had tethered him to it.

"What truth? What am I supposed to be?" Jin whispered to himself, his mind spiraling.

That was when the shadow appeared again, but this time it was clearer—no longer just a vague figure, but a face. The familiar face of someone he knew from his past life.

It was Ron, the friend who had betrayed Leonard.

Ron stood motionless in the mist, his once-lively eyes now dull and lifeless. His features were distorted, but the occult mantle he wore—the one Jin had seen in the memories of Leonard's past—was unmistakable.

Jin's throat tightened.

What the hell...?

Betrayal washed over him like a tidal wave. The memories—his own memories of Leonard—came rushing back in a blur. He had trusted Ron. He had greeted him with warmth, laughed with him as they spent time together. They had been friends. But now… now, it all felt like a cruel lie. Ron's eyes, now empty and hollow, seemed to accuse him, to remind him of everything Leonard had lost.

"You failed. You let him down."

Jin winced as the words echoed in his mind, the weight of them suffocating him. He was no longer just an observer—he was part of this twisted reality, a pawn in a game he didn't understand.

The door beckoned. Jin's heart raced, and though a part of him screamed to turn away, another part of him felt an undeniable pull toward it. That pull... that hunger to know, to understand. Was this his fate? Was this how it had all been set in motion?

With every step toward the door, his past seemed to crumble further away, and something darker seemed to awaken within him.