Deep inside the silent Mirror shard, something stirred.
The darkness that had once held Eunwoo's drifting consciousness was now empty of thoughts.
No memories remained.
Not the small apartment in Korea.
Not the endless nights of studying and working.
Not the temple.
Not the sound of Constance's voice.
The crooked chant had taken all of it away.
Only a faint presence remained.
A soul with no past.
And floating around that quiet soul, the system lights flickered again.
Soft blue words blinked in the void.
[User Response Not Detected]
[Proceeding with Default Configuration]
The system paused for a moment.
Then more words appeared.
[Memory Data: Missing]
[Identity Data: Missing]
[Physical Template: Unavailable]
The system searched.
Again.
And again.
But there was nothing to retrieve.
No memory of height.
No memory of face.
No memory of what Eunwoo had once looked like.
The only remaining data came from a single recorded moment.
A strange one.
A moment stored during the Mirror's destruction.
The image of a blindfolded man standing among floating shards.
Silver hair.
Pale skin.
A calm but sorrowful expression.
The system processed the fragment.
[Template Located]
[Applying Physical Form Based on Recorded Manifestation]
Then another line appeared.
[User Mental Age: Reset]
The void trembled slightly.
[Generating New Vessel]
Morning sunlight filtered softly through the forest.
Birds chirped.
Leaves rustled in the gentle wind.
Harun sat up slowly beside the small campfire he had built the night before.
His bones cracked slightly as he stretched.
"Ahh…"
He rubbed his neck.
"Sleeping on the ground gets worse every year."
The fire had burned out sometime during the night.
Only faint ashes remained.
Harun yawned and reached for his travel bag.
"Let's see what we've got left to eat—"
He opened the bag.
Then he froze.
"…what."
Inside the bag was not what he expected.
There was no Mirror shard.
Instead—
A baby stared up at him.
Harun blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The baby blinked back.
"…what."
The baby had soft silver hair.
Very unusual.
His skin was pale and almost glowing in the morning light.
His eyes were open.
Clear.
Bright.
Crystal blue.
For several seconds, Harun simply stared.
The baby stared back quietly.
Then it made a small noise.
"Ah."
Harun slowly looked inside the bag again.
The frog statue was still there.
Crooked.
Ugly.
Exactly where it had been.
But the shard—
Was gone.
Replaced by the child.
Harun rubbed his face.
"…I'm getting too old for this."
The baby kicked its tiny legs.
Completely calm.
As if being found inside a travel bag by a confused old man was a perfectly normal morning activity.
Harun looked around the empty forest.
"No parents."
"No crying villagers."
"No mysterious cult chasing after him."
Just trees.
Birds.
And a baby that had clearly not existed yesterday.
He looked back into the bag.
The baby blinked again.
Harun sighed deeply.
"Well."
He leaned back and stared up at the sky.
"Of course."
"Why wouldn't the city-destroying artifact turn into a baby."
The baby waved a tiny hand.
Harun stared at it.
"…you're trouble."
But the baby only looked curious.
Quiet.
Strangely calm.
Harun studied the child carefully.
The silver hair.
The pale skin.
The eyes that seemed too clear for a newborn.
He had seen many strange artifacts in his life.
But this—
This was something entirely new.
The old man sat there silently for a long time.
Thinking.
Then finally—
He closed the bag again.
Well.
Half closed.
The baby was still inside, staring upward.
Harun scratched his beard.
"…guess I can't leave you here."
He picked up the bag and stood slowly.
"Alright."
"Let's figure this out."
A week later, Harun arrived in a small village far from any major cities.
The place sat beside a quiet forest.
A clear brook ran through the land, its water gently flowing between smooth stones.
The village itself was simple.
Wooden houses.
Small farms.
Friendly people who didn't ask too many questions.
Which was exactly what Harun wanted.
The old man stood outside a small cottage.
It sat near the brook, right where the forest began.
A wooden bridge crossed the water nearby.
Birdsong filled the air.
Harun looked at the cottage thoughtfully.
"It'll do."
The baby rested in a cloth sling against his chest.
Silent.
Watching the world with those bright blue eyes.
Harun had already bought the place.
The villagers had assumed the old traveler simply wanted a quiet retirement.
Harun opened the door.
The cottage was small.
One bedroom.
A simple kitchen.
A window that faced the forest.
Perfectly peaceful.
He stepped inside.
The baby made a soft sound.
Harun looked down at him.
"…guess this is home now."
The baby stared up quietly.
Silver hair catching the sunlight.
Harun carried him to the small bed near the window and gently set him down.
For a long moment, the old man simply looked at the child.
"You'll need a name eventually," he muttered.
But the thought made him uneasy.
Naming something felt important.
Too important.
Harun shook his head slowly.
"…not my place."
He had no idea what this child really was.
A remnant of a destroyed artifact.
A strange miracle.
Or something far more dangerous.
The old man sighed and sat down beside the bed.
"Well," he said quietly.
"I'll just raise you for now."
The baby blinked slowly.
Peaceful.
Silent.
Outside the window, the brook continued flowing gently past the cottage.
And deep in the forest beyond—
The wind whispered softly through the trees.