With the permanent "Analytical Eye" skill now active, the world transformed before Jack into a canvas of exposed emotions. He no longer saw just faces, but specters of fear, anger, and regret swaying around people like translucent phantoms. School became a visually chaotic place, but a highly useful one.
Park Ji-hoon was radiating like a cracked lighthouse. Dull yellow fear enveloped him like a thick fog, pierced by sparks of red, suppressed anger. Every furtive glance from classmates sent small tremors through his aura. He had become a perfect vessel for pressure.
The new task from the System was clear: design a "consequence scene." Not just a threat, but an experience that would force Park to confront his failure and fear, directly linking it to Min.
Jack sat in his room, the digital images he had captured at his disposal. The pills. The hiding spot. Park's distorted face swallowing a pill. But that was evidence for the police. Jack wanted something more... personal.
He remembered something from Min's memories. Something that seemed trivial: a small teddy bear doll. Min kept it in the bottom drawer of his desk. It was the only thing his grandmother had given him before she died. Park and his gang had once stolen it and thrown it in the classroom trash can, amidst their laughter. That moment, as Jack recalled from Min's memories, was one of the most humiliating. Because it wasn't just about possession; it was a violation of the only warm memory in Min's life.
An idea began to form. An idea evil in its precision.
Jack used the still-active electronic tracking skills within him and found what he was looking for: a specialized online store selling custom teddy bears. He ordered a small white teddy bear with shiny black eyes. He requested a small additional detail: a dark red stain on the bear's chest, like a blemish or an old wound.
[System: Ambiguous action. Explain intent for improved recommendations.]
"Symbolism," Jack answered in his mind. "The bear represents Min's stolen innocence. The red stain is the wound that never healed. It will be a tangible reminder. A means to transfer guilt from an abstract idea to something touchable."
[System: Concept understood. 'Psychological Torture through Symbolism.' Approved. Complementary reward unlocked: 'Cognitive Whisper' (A skill allowing the user to direct a short phrase or feeling directly into the target's mind when they are in a state of extreme psychological vulnerability).]
A new skill. A dangerous one. Jack felt a wave of satisfaction—not just the satisfaction of Jack the killer, but a strange relief from deep within, as if a part of Min approved of this non-lethal method of revenge.
The doll arrived three days later. It was perfect. Frightening in its defiled innocence. On the same day, Jack tracked Park's movements after school. Using his new "Presence Forgery," he managed to be present without being noticed in the crowd at the school gate. Park was heading, as usual, to his private gym in the affluent neighborhood. The route passed through a small public park, relatively deserted at that time of the afternoon.
This was the place.
Jack went ahead, concealing himself among the trees. He identified a spot: a wooden bench under a large tree, partially hidden from the main path. He placed the small white teddy bear in the middle of the bench, sitting upright as if waiting. Next to it, he left a small white envelope.
Inside the envelope, there was no written message. Just a printed photo from that night at the club. A close-up of Park's hand holding the bag of pills. Park's own face was slightly blurred, but the small tattoo on his wrist—a hawk shape—was perfectly clear. Anyone who knew him would recognize it.
Then, using the System's new skill, "Cognitive Whisper," Jack focused on the image of Park in his mind as Park approached the park, preoccupied with his phone and walking sluggishly. Jack directed a single sentence, with all the willpower he possessed, toward that churning yellow fear he could see with his Analytical Eye even from a distance:
"Look at the bench."
Park stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. He raised his head, frowning. He looked around, then automatically looked toward the wooden bench under the tree. He saw it. The small white teddy bear sitting in a waiting posture.
The aura of fear around him rippled violently. He hesitated, then walked slowly toward the bench, as if enchanted. He saw the envelope. He opened it with a trembling hand. The photo fell onto his lap.
Park's chest contracted. His face turned ashen gray. His breathing became shallow and rapid. He looked at the doll, then at the photo, then back at the doll. Jack's Analytical Eye saw something astonishing: thin black threads of guilt—real guilt, not just fear of exposure—began to intertwine with the fog of yellow fear around his heart.
"Min..." Park whispered in a hoarse, broken voice. "This... this is impossible."
He thought Min was dead. Or at least, gone forever. But this... this was a message. A message from the past. From the victim.
Jack, hidden among the trees, used "Cognitive Whisper" again. This time, he didn't direct words. He directed a feeling. The feeling of biting isolation. The despair that makes every bone in your body ache. It was the feeling Min had lived with every day.
Park suddenly doubled over, as if punched in the stomach. Tears—real tears of mixed panic and remorse—began to stream down his cheeks. He grabbed his head with his hands.
"Stop..." he groaned in a strangled voice. "Please, stop..."
But the scene wasn't over. From the other end of the park, an unexpected figure appeared: Kang Da-wool. The small boy was carrying his drawing bag, perhaps on his way home via a shortcut. He saw the broken Park on the bench. He stopped, eyes wide. Then he saw the white teddy bear.
Kang Da-wool didn't say anything. He just looked at Park for a moment, then at the doll. In his eyes, there was no fear now. There was... understanding. Then he turned his back and walked away, his steps steady.
The scene of the former victim boy walking away with dignity, while his tormentor sat crying and broken on a bench—this was the final shock that shattered Park. A muffled scream escaped him, then he grabbed the white teddy bear and hurled it into the bushes as if it were burning his hand.
But the damage was done. He had seen the ghost. His fear was no longer just of scandal or his father. It was now the fear of the ghost of a boy he had destroyed, returning to remind him of every moment of cruelty.
[System: 'Consequence Scene' - Exceptionally completed. Psychological torture of Target 1 (Park) exceeds standards. Suffering Ratio: 61%. Cognitive Whisper was effective. Symbolism integrated with visual and emotional shock.]
[Progress in overall revenge quest: 40%.]
Jack returned home that evening feeling a strange exhaustion. It wasn't physical this time. It was emotional. Directing Min's feelings through "Cognitive Whisper" had made him feel those emotions too, as if he had immersed himself for a moment in the ocean of despair where Min had lived. He was weary, but also... reassured. This was a different kind of revenge. Deeper.
In his room, he found himself sitting in front of the mirror. He looked at the reflection. Min's eyes—the wide eyes—looked back at him in silence. And suddenly, he no longer saw just himself. He saw a ripple. Another shadow behind his eyes.
"Min?" he whispered.
There was no verbal response. But in his chest, he felt ripples of emotions that were not his: a bitter relief. An immense sadness. And something like... peace?
Perhaps this was what the real Min wanted. Not murder, but acknowledgment. To see his tormentor break under the weight of his own guilt.
But the System had other demands. The list was not complete. Park was just the beginning.
[System: Shifting focus. Target 2 (Choi Sung-min). His weaknesses: his shaky status, his injury, his fear of becoming useless. Suggestion: Target his connection to Park. Make him feel like a disposable tool.]
Jack thought. Sung-min was a follower. His strength came from his proximity to Park. Now that this strength was shaken, he was afraid and frustrated. His pride was easy to wound.
The next day in gym class, while Sung-min was trying—and failing—to run due to his ankle, Jack used "Cognitive Whisper" again. This time, he directed a simple idea toward Sung-min as the latter was trying to catch up with the ball and stumbled:
"You are a burden now."
Sung-min froze. He looked around fiercely, as if he had heard a voice. He saw Park on the other side of the field, talking to a new, prominent player, laughing a forced laugh. Park never once looked in Sung-min's direction.
Sung-min's brown aura suddenly turned a dark gray of despair. He saw the truth: he had been replaced. A broken tool.
After class, while Sung-min was sitting alone in the locker room, holding his swollen ankle, Jack entered. He didn't say anything. He just placed a small piece of paper on the bench next to him and walked out.
On the paper, there were no words. It was a simple cartoon, copied from Kang Da-wool's style (Jack had previously taken a picture of a drawing from Da-wool's notebook). It showed a figure resembling Sung-min, broken like a doll, thrown in a trash can, while a figure resembling Park walked away with someone new.
There was no threat. Just an illustrated truth.
Sung-min looked at the drawing, then crumpled the paper in his fist. But tears—tears of anger and humiliation—filled his eyes. He understood the message: his role was over. Even Min's ghostly avenger didn't see him as a threat worth the trouble, but as something pitiful.
[System: Progress against Target 2. Seeds of isolation and resentment implanted. Probability of subordinate turning against leader: 45% and rising.]
The week passed in this manner. Jack was a sculptor, using his new tools—Analytical Eye, Cognitive Whisper, Presence Forgery—along with the old ones—combat skills, coldness—to expose and carve the fear and guilt of his targets.
Lee Min-ji was next. Her weakness was her social reputation and influence. Using his electronic skills, Jack subtly spread rumors within her social circles—not false rumors, but amplifications of certain truths. How she used to spy on others' messages. How she enjoyed Min's suffering. The rumors spread like wildfire among the teenagers. Suddenly, Min-ji found herself outside the spotlight, avoided by her former friends, her opportunistic silver aura turning to the dirty gray of social disgrace.
Mr. Kim noticed the change in the class dynamic. He tried again to "fix" things, but every word from him reopened an old wound in Jack/Min. Jack's response was always calm, cutting, bringing him back to the reality of his failure. The teacher's gray aura grew heavier, leaning toward black.
And at home... was the greatest challenge. The Mother and Father. The System's targets but also the parents of the body he inhabited. Min's feelings toward them were more complex: anger, sorrow, and a shattered longing for the love that never came.
[System: Deadline approaching for action against Targets 4 and 5. Suggested punishment for parents: Confront them with the 'son' they lost. Make their flaws visible to them in his eyes.]
Jack knew this would be the hardest. Because confronting them would awaken Min's strongest emotions, and he might lose control.
He planned something simple. Something that didn't require many words.
On a Friday night, when the Father was sitting in the living room watching the news and the Mother was washing dishes in the kitchen, Jack entered the living room. He stood in front of the TV, blocking the view.
His father looked at him, annoyed. "Min, move."
Jack didn't move. Instead, he looked directly at his father. Then, slowly, he lifted his left hand. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. He rolled up the sleeve, revealing Min's slender forearm. There, on the inner side of his arm, were faint scars. Parallel lines, faded, but visible. The scars of a suicide attempt.
The Mother came out of the kitchen, holding a dish towel. She saw what Jack was doing. She froze.
"These," Jack said in Min's quiet voice, but with Jack's steely tone, "are the language your son used to ask for help when your words failed to reach him."
The Father didn't speak. He was pale. His eyes were fixed on those faint lines. Jack's Analytical Eye saw his cold blue aura crack, opening to ooze a pitch-black color of absolute remorse. The Mother began to cry silently, her tears falling onto her wet hands, her aura turning a deep purple of pain and grief.
"Look closely," Jack whispered. "This is what you made. Not because of what you did, but because of what you didn't do."
Then he rolled his sleeve back down. He turned and walked to his room, leaving a silence as heavy as stone in the living room.
In his room, he closed the door. He fell to his knees, shaking. He wasn't pretending. A wave of emotions—Min's grief, his anger, his longing, then his terrible relief that the words had finally been said—overwhelmed him completely. He cried. But he didn't know if these were Jack's tears or Min's. Perhaps they had finally mixed, becoming one.
[System: Confrontation with Targets 5 (Parents) - Completed. Emotional trauma profound. Accountability Ratio: 38% (unchanged, but internal acknowledgment raised to 90%). This is a form of justice.]
[Warning: Memory Integration has risen to 88%. The line between 'Jack' and 'Min' is blurring rapidly. Maintaining core identity has become a priority.]
Jack took a deep breath, trying to regain control. He felt like a ship in a storm, fought over by two souls.
But from his window, he saw something. On the street opposite, under a faint streetlight, stood Kang Da-wool. The small boy was holding something. A small drawing pad. He raised it toward Jack's window.
On the pad, there was a drawn picture. A picture of two figures. One was Min, with sad features but dry eyes. The other was a tall shadow standing behind him, protecting him. And the shadow was holding out its hand, as if offering Min a small sword.
Beneath the drawing, written words: "Thank you for becoming the shadow I never had."
Jack looked at the drawing, then at Kang Da-wool, who gave a small, sad smile before disappearing into the darkness.
In that moment, while the internal war raged, Jack realized something. Perhaps it wasn't about choosing to be Jack or Min. Perhaps it was about becoming that third thing that appeared in the drawing: the protective shadow. The avenger, but also the protector. The killer who protects those who cannot fight.
Perhaps this was Min's true justice.
But the System in his head disagreed. Because a blood-red flash suddenly appeared, with a single message:
[Next Phase: 'The Harvest.' Psychological groundwork complete. Prepare for transition to final physical punishment. Primary Target: Park Ji-hoon. The end must be public. Humiliating. Fatal.]
The storm had not subsided. It was about to turn into a hurricane. And Jack—or that new entity he was becoming—was at its center.