The Clues Left Behind

After staring at him blankly for a moment, Seohan honestly opened his mouth.

“I don’t remember well. Just call me Baek Seohan.”

The face looking back at him crumpled, but unfortunately, there was nothing else he could say.

‘I really don’t remember, so what am I supposed to do.’

His memories of his past life were vivid, but strangely, his ‘name’ was the only thing he couldn’t recall. It was as if something were asserting that he was ‘Baek Seohan’ now, and no other name was necessary.

While anyone else might have found it unsettling, Seohan—who harbored no regrets about his past life and was satisfied with living a new one—decided not to worry about it, even if he had felt a flicker of doubt before.

What did a name matter anyway? Lee Dohun was going to leave his house today, and under normal circumstances, they would never have to see each other again.

Or so he thought.

Why…….

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

Lee Dohun had exited the basement quickly. He hadn’t even looked back, acting as though he couldn’t bear to glance at the place again. Up until that point, everything was fine. Seohan thought the entire matter would conclude smoothly.

That was, until Lee Dohun—who looked like he would storm out immediately—settled himself right into ‘Baek Seohan’s’ house.

“What do you mean, why am I not leaving.”

Sitting as comfortably on the plush sofa as if it were his own home, Lee Dohun boldly pointed out a specific clause written in the contract.

Clause: The Party of the Second Part promises to restore the physical and mental damage inflicted upon the Party of the First Part through both material and spiritual means. However, this clause remains valid for exactly one year from the date the contract is signed. If the Party of the First Part makes excessive demands that exceed the capabilities of the Party of the Second Part, the Party of the Second Part retains the right to refuse.

Naturally, the Party of the Second Part was Seohan, and the Party of the First Part was Lee Dohun. Facing Lee Dohun, whose eyes were gleaming right in front of him, Seohan had unconsciously written his own name next to the designation.

But the labels of First and Second Part were merely formatting terms, so they didn’t matter much. The real issue lay in the text that followed.

‘Restore the physical and mental damage through both material and spiritual means.’

There hadn’t been any profound reason for inserting this clause. He simply thought it was the right thing to do, and since he fully expected Lee Dohun to leave the house immediately, he had been naively thinking along the lines of, ‘A bit of financial compensation should do the trick.’

He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that Lee Dohun would harbor the ambition to remain in this house.

“I heard the other ‘Baek Seohan’ egged on the loan sharks to raise the interest rates on my debt.”

“But that wasn’t me…….”

“True, it wasn’t you. But…….”

The hand gripping the contract tightened. Although it was a separate copy given to him, the paper was ruthlessly crumpled within his grasp. Against the visible veins popping on his wrist, the mangled paper looked even more pitiful.

“Isn’t it also true that you turned a blind eye and kept me locked up here?”

……It was a fair point. He had been disoriented, terrified, and utterly overwhelmed just trying to clean up the messes left behind by a body that kept acting on its own.

“The more I think about it, the more shameless it feels. I think my mental damage might heal a bit if you personally attend to my needs.”

‘Is this lunatic for real?’

The words he couldn’t say swirled in his mouth. However, his wide-open eyes couldn’t hide the crude curses behind them. Facing Seohan, whose expression was entirely scannable, Lee Dohun willingly displayed a smile.

It was a brilliant smile, unlike any Seohan had seen from him before. Neither a smirk nor a sneer, but a pure laugh. Looking at the neatly curved lips and crinkled eyes, Seohan momentarily lost his train of thought.

“On the first day I was locked up here, ‘Baek Seohan’ told me something.”

Was it just an illusion that his voice sounded remarkably refreshing as he spoke? Dohun quietly observed Seohan, who couldn’t conceal his anxiety. His pupils rippled with an unreadable emotion.

“He said you shouldn’t sign contracts carelessly.”

……That day, Seohan gained a brand-new enlightenment regarding life.

Seohan’s refusal was utterly rejected.

He had tried to bluff, declaring that he couldn’t fulfill such an absurd request, but it was useless. ‘Then I’ll consider the contract nullified,’ Dohun had replied without a shred of hesitation, leaping up from his seat and marching straight toward Seohan.

The momentum was so terrifying that Seohan, who had been speaking quite boldly just a second ago, quickly stumbled backward. Only after Dohun’s balled fist was halfway raised did Seohan realize what he meant by ‘nullifying the contract.’

‘That guy is out of his mind too.’

Since the clause stating ‘will not inflict harm’ would also vanish, he was clearly displaying an intent to beat Seohan to a pulp right then and there.

Ultimately, because Jin Yeon-oh’s involvement made him wary of treating Dohun carelessly, Seohan succumbed to the threatening proposal.

Thus, their uncomfortable cohabitation began.

[Current Synchronization Rate is 25.7%!]

The reason he was late in checking the synchronization rate was similar. He hadn’t been in the right state of mind, and even if he were, he couldn’t exactly commit the eccentric act of staring intently at an invisible system window right in front of Lee Dohun.

Between the sudden 10% jump and the minor increases he had quietly accumulated over time, his synchronization rate had bypassed 25% before he knew it.

The system had promised him two things.

First, the information on Extra 328, which was set to unlock when the rate hit 20%.

Second, ‘Baek Seohan’s’ secret account and contact info, set to unlock at 25%.

Seohan chose to view the information on ‘Extra 328’ first.

[The clue regarding Extra 328 has arrived!]

‘This time for sure.’

Once I find out who it is, they’re dead. Channeling the resentment from being backstabbed by Lee Dohun into a desire for vengeance, he swore an oath to himself several times over. Following that, the system window popped up with a brief line of text.

[1. He possesses the same defect as you.] [2. Someone close to you knows him.]

Unlike the previous time when it provided five useless pieces of information, there were only two this time, but they were remarkably decisive.

‘……Why?’

It was impossible not to question the first clue. The ‘defect’ the system referred to surely meant the phenomenon where the body occasionally acted on its own, mimicking the original owner. Even though the real ‘Baek Seohan’ was no longer present from the moment Seohan possessed him, the body—having spent so much time as ‘Baek Seohan’—still ‘remembered’ his behavioral patterns.

But why would the bastard who cut in line suffer from this exact same ‘defect’?

‘Didn’t they cut in line for their own benefit?’

If not, there was no reason to cut in line just to possess a body that offered zero advantages.

He racked his brain for a considerable amount of time, but he couldn’t deduce anything. Even when he pressed the system for answers, it remained dead silent. Ultimately, leaving only a bad aftertaste, Seohan had to shift his gaze away from the first clue.

Next was number two.

“……This is it.”

The most critical piece of information to discover the identity of ‘Extra 328.’ Seohan had finally laid his hands on it.

There were very few people who could be considered close to ‘Baek Seohan.’ Among them, if he were to ask around if anyone’s personality had suddenly changed recently…… the answer would surely present itself in no time. His clenched hands tightened.

Since it was late today, he would begin his search tomorrow. The thought that the finish line wasn’t far off made his heart flutter with a strange excitement.

“……Wow.”

His heightened mood truly blossomed after he received ‘Baek Seohan’s’ secret bank account details from the system.

“Just how many zeros are there?”

The balance displayed was several times larger than the standard account he had been using under ‘Baek Seohan’s’ name. With his attention completely consumed by the massive fortune, Seohan glossed over the fact that the sum was far too astronomical for a single individual to possess.

Next up was the ‘secret contact info.’

[Please locate the indentation on the bottom right of the closet’s inner wall!]

Following the system’s bizarre request, he blankly felt along the inside of the wall until his fingers brushed against a small, hollow space large enough to fit an entire wrist.

“What is this?”

Inside, Seohan discovered an unfamiliar smartphone.

In the first place, hiding something like this inside a secret space that no one else could possibly know about was highly suspicious. His gaze turned peculiar as he stared down at the sleek device.

‘……The model is quite recent.’

Although it showed very few signs of usage, the design proved it hadn’t been manufactured all that long ago.

The screen wouldn’t turn on, likely because the battery was completely drained. Since Seohan hadn’t pulled this out a single time since possessing ‘Baek Seohan’s’ body, it made sense that the power would cut out after that much time.

Only after connecting it to a charger and waiting a few minutes did the phone finally power on. Soon, a pattern lock screen appeared.

“Hey, System.”

He called out in a low voice, but there was no response. What followed was a test of patience.

After entering a pattern five times and waiting 30 seconds, repeating the process about ten times, Seohan finally found a way to bypass the lock screen.

“……Ha.”

It was fingerprint recognition.

A profound sense of futility drained whatever strength remained in his body. The moment he pressed his index finger against the scanner on the back, the lock clicked open effortlessly.

Just how many minutes had he wasted messing around with patterns? In this day and age where fingerprint recognition was completely universal, he felt a wave of self-pity toward his past self for failing to think of such an obvious method even once.