Pandora. Pandora.
A voice could be heard, calling someone I didn't know.
"What?" I answered, even though I had never heard that name before. Still, somehow, I could tell he was calling for me.
He kept saying it.
"Pandora. Pandora. Wake up."
The voice felt far away. I couldn't tell whether I was still dreaming, whether it was just noise inside my head, or whether someone was actually speaking to me from somewhere beyond the haze clouding my thoughts.
Then my eyes slowly opened, and I saw someone standing there.
A young man with short black hair, average height, and pale skin. His face was full of worry, the kind of worry that made it seem as though he had been crying only a moment ago. His expression was tight, his eyes unsettled, like he was trying to stay calm for my sake and failing at it.
He looked at me and said, "You don't have to participate in the competition. Listen to Mom and Dad. You should stay here and be safe. There will be more competitions in the future, more chances for you to obtain them."
I stared at him silently, not knowing what he was talking about.
Competition?
What did he mean?
The word felt strange, heavy, like something I should have understood instantly but couldn't. My mind was still foggy, like it had been dragged through some deep, dark place and forced back too quickly. Nothing around me felt stable. Even the face in front of me, though filled with concern, felt distant, as if I were looking at it through water.
I pushed myself up from where I had been sleeping, and as I did, memories began surging back into me.
They rushed back all at once, like a flood breaking through a sealed gate.
I was in that room again.
Chains held me in place.
And written across those chains were messages, words that had forced themselves into my mind whether I wanted them there or not.
The competition will begin now. All participants will be distributed across isolated islands. Most of these islands are governed by one major family.
The competition will proceed as follows. Competitors will be split into attackers and defenders. To make it fair, each island will have one attacker and one defender.
Your role is simple. If you are on the attacking team, you will be assigned someone to assassinate. If you are on the defending team, you must protect that person.
The competition will last seven days. Once assigned a role, you will keep that role until the end of the competition. If you finish your target on one island, you will move to another, and so on.
To make movement easier, we have stolen identities. Ordinary people on these islands will be assigned to you. Do not worry, your body remains the same. But because the identity has been stolen, all residents will think of you as their friend or family member.
The event will be broadcast throughout the continent.
The message ended.
And the moment it ended, the silence that followed felt even worse than the words themselves.
I looked at my hand.
There was a great sword in it.
Resting in my grip as if it had always belonged there.
But then…
Who was I supposed to kill?
As if answering the question forming inside my head, the memory continued.
"You might be wondering, who are you supposed to kill? And who are you supposed to defend?
The answer is very simple.
For the people who receive the shield, the person they must protect is obvious.
But for the attackers' side, it is different. They will not be able to tell who exactly they are supposed to kill.
On each of these small islands, there are one hundred people. We made sure of that.
The more people you kill, the higher the chance of finding your real target.
Do not worry. The moment you kill your target, you will immediately proceed to the next stage."
Pandora's mouth hung open as he listened.
The words echoed in his head with terrifying clarity.
So that means I have to kill everyone on this small island.
Everyone in this small family.
The thought came naturally, horribly, as if the conclusion had already been prepared for him the moment he heard the rules. There was no confusion in it. No room to pretend he had misunderstood.
If the target was hidden among one hundred people, and he had no way of knowing who it was, then the meaning was obvious.
Kill enough people, and eventually the answer would reveal itself.
He looked toward the one he thought was his brother, or at least, the brother of the body whose identity he had taken.
That thought alone made something twist inside him.
Not my brother.
But his brother.
The brother of the identity stolen and placed over him.
Even so, the familiarity in the young man's face, the concern in his voice, the ease with which he spoke to him as if they had shared a life together, all of it made the situation feel even worse.
Killing intent surged inside him.
It rose fast, sudden and violent, like something dark waking up in his chest and demanding action now, before hesitation could weaken it.
But he forced it down.
He had to.
If he killed him now, the opposite side would absolutely hear about it. They would realize his identity, and they could use that death to turn the others against him, making them protect the real target even more fiercely.
That would only make everything harder.
So I need to be careful from now on.
Not reckless.
Not emotional.
Careful.
His brother looked at him and said, "I'll bring you some water. You look tired."
Then he walked out of the room.
Pandora said nothing.
He only remained where he was, still and silent, as the sound of the other person leaving slowly faded away.
Then the weight of everything settled over him again.
Pandora clenched his fists so hard that his palms began to bleed, his head lowered, his face hidden in shadow.
The pain barely registered.
His hands trembled, not from weakness, but from the effort of holding everything inside.
The fear.
The disgust.
The rage.
The realization of what he had been made into.
And beneath all of it, heavier than anything else, was the truth he could no longer avoid.
If he wanted to survive, then sooner or later, he would have to begin.