For two days, the stranger who was once Muyeong lived as a ghost in his own city. He moved through the grimiest parts of the outer districts, sleeping in derelict buildings and surviving on cheap, stale bread purchased with the last of his Aurum. This period of anonymity was not one of suffering; it was a crucial step in his plan. He was shedding the last vestiges of his old self, acclimating to a life where he was truly invisible. His Imperceptible talent worked flawlessly, rendering him a forgettable face in any crowd, a phantom that no one registered.
During this time, he practiced. He would find secluded, abandoned alleyways and activate Perfect Persona repeatedly. Each activation was a learning process. He discovered that while Level 1 allowed for significant changes, it had its limits. He couldn't drastically alter his height or mass, but he could shift his features, change his hair and eye color with mana, and, most importantly, subtly alter the feel of his own mana signature—the unique energy every Awakened person emits.
He meticulously constructed his new identity. He didn't want a handsome hero or a striking figure. He wanted the opposite. He wanted someone who was the epitome of average. Someone completely and utterly forgettable.
He settled on a final design: a young man who looked about nineteen, a year older than Muyeong. His face would be plain, with soft features that held no strong character. His hair, a common shade of brown. His eyes, a simple, unremarkable dark gray. His posture would be slightly slouched, not out of weakness, but out of a lack of presence. He would be the kind of person you could stand next to in a line and forget was even there the moment you turned away.
He needed a name. Not a name of hope or meaning like Muyeong. He needed a name as plain as the face he was designing. He settled on "Jin Park." It was common, simple, and carried no baggage.
On the third day after Muyeong's "death," Jin Park was born.
His first objective was to transform his new identity from a mere disguise into a legal reality. A physical persona was useless without the paperwork to back it up. He needed to be in the system.
His target was a low-level civic services office on the border of the central and outer districts—a place perpetually understaffed and overwhelmed with paperwork from the city's teeming masses. He spent a full day observing it from a nearby cafe, watching the flow of people and the tired, overworked administrators behind the counters. His Imperceptible talent allowed him to do this without drawing a single glance.
He identified his mark: a middle-aged administrator with tired eyes, a perpetually stressed expression, and a habit of nervously checking the time on a cheap digital watch. Muyeong, using his new persona, followed the man after his shift. The administrator didn't go home. He went to a dimly lit bar known for its illegal backroom gambling dens.
Muyeong had found his lever.
The next day, Jin Park entered the civic services office during the chaotic lunch hour. He approached the administrator's counter, clutching a small, worn satchel.
"Excuse me," Jin Park said, his voice as nondescript as his face.
The administrator, whose nameplate read "Mr. Ahn," looked up with weary annoyance. "What do you want? Take a number."
"I... I'm sorry to bother you," Jin Park said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. "My situation is a bit complicated. I'm an orphan from the Outer-7 district. Our orphanage was shut down after a minor dungeon break years ago, and all our records were lost in the fire." He presented a sheaf of papers—forgeries he had painstakingly created, filled with official-looking but ultimately meaningless text. "I've been trying to get my citizen ID reissued for months, but everyone keeps sending me somewhere else."
It was a sad but believable story. Such administrative black holes were common for the city's poor.
Mr. Ahn's expression didn't soften. "Tragic. Take a number. The process takes weeks."
"I understand," Jin Park said, his eyes flicking down to the man's cheap watch and then back to his face. "But the Academy Entrance Exams are in less than a month. I can't even apply without an ID. I was just hoping..." He trailed off, then pushed his satchel slightly forward. Inside, nestled amongst his fake documents, was a small, heavy pouch. "I was hoping someone with your experience could... expedite the process. For your trouble, of course. For taking time out of your busy schedule."
Mr. Ahn's eyes widened slightly as he caught a glimpse of the pouch. He looked around nervously. The office was a loud, chaotic mess. No one was paying attention to them. His gaze hardened. "Bribes are a serious offense, kid."
"Of course not, sir," Jin Park replied smoothly. "It's not a bribe. It's a donation. A gesture of gratitude from a desperate citizen. I heard you had some bad luck at the tables at the 'Wandering Spirit' last night. Sometimes, a little good fortune can change everything."
The administrator flinched as if he'd been struck. The color drained from his face. The mention of the specific gambling den, his "bad luck"—it meant this quiet, plain-faced boy knew about his debts. It was a threat, wrapped in the guise of a polite request.
Mr. Ahn's demeanor changed instantly. He snatched the satchel, pulling it behind the counter. "The system for reissuing lost records is complex," he said, his voice now a low, conspiratorial whisper. He began typing furiously at his terminal. "But there are... back-dated registration slots for cases like yours. Name?"
"Jin Park," Muyeong replied without hesitation.
"Date of birth?"
He gave a date that would make him nineteen. As Mr. Ahn typed, Jin Park felt a subtle shift in the world. He was no longer just a disguise. The system was accepting him. He was becoming real.
"Alright," Mr. Ahn said after a tense minute, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "The registration is processing. It will be flagged for review, but I'll mark it as a priority administrative correction. Your temporary ID card will be ready for pickup in three days." He pushed the now-empty satchel back across the counter. "Now leave. And don't come back to my counter again."
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Ahn," Jin Park said with a slight bow.
He walked out of the office, his Imperceptible talent causing the administrator to have already half-forgotten the details of his plain face. He had spent nearly all the Aurum he had—the pittance from Old Man Jang and some he'd saved before—on that "donation." It was a worthy investment.
Muyeong was a ghost. Jin Park was now a legal citizen.
He found a public terminal and pulled up the application page for the Unified Academy Entrance Examinations. His new life had been forged in lies and desperation. His future would be built on the same foundation. He navigated to the Zenith Academy's page, scrolling past the glamorous combat divisions, and selected the smallest, most overlooked department.
[Applicant: Jin Park]
[Selected Academy: Zenith National Academy]
[Chosen Department: Culinary Arts Division]
He clicked 'Submit'. The application was accepted.
The wolf had just officially applied to enter the sheepfold.