Alternate World · December 27, 2026 · Identity Unveiled
The air in the room remained tense, the cold light illuminating the sterile, white ceiling. The man's gaze bore into Yu Yong-An, eyes deep and calculating, evaluating an unknown variable.
"Your identity doesn't exist," he stated, voice heavy and low. "You shouldn't even be in this world."
Yu Yong-An leaned against the headboard, thoughts racing. His throat was dry, and his strength hadn't fully returned, but reason told him he couldn't remain passive. If this world operated under similar principles to his own, then there must be digital footprints.
"If I can prove my identity," he inhaled deeply, eyes drifting towards equipment in the room's corner, "will you let me try?"
The man's brow furrowed slightly. "What are you planning?"
"I can show you... I once existed."
Clues in the Contact List
Yu Yong-An's fingers slid across the tabletop display—a sleek holographic terminal, similar yet slightly more advanced than the technology he knew, enhanced by AI-driven intelligence.
"How do you use this?" Yu asked tentatively, despite already having an idea.
The man didn't answer, simply observed closely, clearly awaiting his next move.
Yu understood it was a test. If he truly came from a "non-existent place," he shouldn't know how to operate this technology. Yet, inexplicably, he did.
He quickly tapped commands onto the screen, prompting the system to respond instantly. A familiar yet alien contact list appeared before him. Scanning rapidly, one name stood out—"Zhang Yi-An."
His heartbeat quickened dramatically.
His name was indeed present in this world's system. But what did it mean? He glanced up; the man's expression had turned grim.
"How do you know that name?"
Hacking Skills—Revealing Hidden Identities
Ignoring the question, Yu Yong-An continued scrolling. Zhang Yi-An's identity records were extensive—social interactions, communication logs, even online activity fragments—but something was amiss.
Certain records had been deliberately erased, and entire sections of the social identity appeared partially wiped. Yu quickly pieced together that this wasn't mere privacy protection but intentional information suppression.
"These records...have been tampered with," Yu murmured, eyes narrowing slightly.
"How can you tell?" the man demanded sharply.
Yu hesitated momentarily, recognizing this as his opportunity to prove himself. His fingers danced over the interface, recalling hidden programs and swiftly decrypting concealed data. These were hacking skills that shouldn't belong to Yu Yong-An—they belonged to Zhang Yi-An. Yet he wielded them effortlessly, driven by pure instinct.
He was uncovering knowledge he "shouldn't possess."
Moments later, a hidden record emerged: Zhang Yi-An possessed dual identities from a certain time onward. Part of the data aligned with the world he currently occupied, while the other hinted at a separate timeline entirely.
"This..." Yu stared breathlessly, pulse accelerating.
He did have an identity here, yet knew instinctively it wasn't originally his.
Meeting the man's intense gaze, Yu took a deep breath:
It was late, and the rain hadn't stopped.
In another world, in a dimly lit room, Yang An-Ting sat beside the bed, unable to sleep. The faint glow of her phone screen cast shadows across her face as her finger traced a path through familiar names in her contact list—names she thought she remembered. Names she thought she'd already let go.
Until—
One name surfaced from somewhere deeper than memory.
Zhang Yi-An.
She froze. As if hearing a voice that didn't belong to this world.
Her phone buzzed faintly in her palm, the screen flickering—once, twice—before steadying again. A glitch? Or something else writing itself into her reality?
"Do you remember his name?"
It was Li An-Qing's voice again. Haunting, delicate. A sound that came not from the room, but from behind an unseen mirror.
Yang An-Ting didn't answer right away.
She simply clutched the phone tighter. The cool surface felt like something she'd forgotten how to hold.
"He's finding himself again," Li An-Qing continued, "but he's forgetting us in the process."
Yang An-Ting's breath caught in her throat.
"I feel like... I've seen him before," she whispered, barely audible. "But I'm not supposed to. Am I?"
No response.
Only the echo of silence, shared.
The name kept forming in her mind—not as text, not even as memory, but as something weightier. Something like a wound. Or a promise.
"If one day… you call my name," she whispered into the dark, "I promise—I'll hear it."
She placed the phone gently by her pillow and closed her eyes.
And still, the name lingered—like a tide that refused to recede.
"I think...I can finally answer your question."
I am Yu Yong-An, he thought inwardly.
"But at the same time," he whispered aloud, "I'm also Zhang Yi-An."