Chapter 1: Seizing a New Body

March 2000, outside the WEMADE game company in Guro District, Seoul.

A handsome sixteen-year-old boy, with a bank card containing only a hundred million won, took a deep breath, ready to enter and negotiate the copyright deal for a half-finished online game called "Legend."

If he succeeded, he could soon leave this country and return home to start his own business.

Who could have imagined that just ten days ago, he was a penniless trainee shackled by a contract akin to slavery, having only just crossed over into this world.

Ten days—enough for a person of high intelligence to shatter the chains of servitude and earn the first bucket of gold in his life.

Gu Cheng's thoughts drifted back to ten days prior.

...

Why am I so dizzy?

Gu Cheng barely managed to open his heavy eyelids, feeling his vision lagging, much like the cheap VR headset he played with as a child.

His head throbbed painfully, his forehead clammy and wet.

He slowly raised his arm and instinctively touched his forehead.

Instead of the expected VR headset, his hand encountered a soft, delicate hand.

Startled, the owner of the hand quickly retracted it.

Slender, tender fingers, like fresh scallions, brushed across Gu Cheng's palm, and he could clearly feel the calluses on her fingertips.

Then his hand found a handkerchief, seemingly stained with blood.

At last, Gu Cheng recognized reality: this wasn’t VR—he was truly dizzy from an injury!

“Could it be that Xiao Ju and the others, after stabbing me a few times, had a pang of conscience and tried to save me?” No sooner had this thought flashed through his mind than a torrent of fragmented memories surged into his brain, overturning the premise. “No, they stabbed my chest, not my forehead. And why do I have the memories of two people in my head? Don’t tell me I’ve transmigrated and possessed someone after dying.”

The possibility of transmigration made Gu Cheng immediately abandon any further attempt to open his eyes.

He decided it would be wiser to feign unconsciousness for a few more minutes, allowing him to absorb and merge the fragments of memory and fully grasp his situation.

Soon enough, he had untangled his thoughts.

In his previous life, he was the data director at a Chinese internet entertainment company in 2040. For certain reasons, he was murdered by a female artist under the company.

He had then crossed back forty years, inhabiting the body of a sixteen-year-old boy with the same name. The boy's current identity: a Chinese trainee at an entertainment company in Dongyi Country.

The reason for his murder in his past life was complicated—he was dead anyway, and he couldn’t be bothered to dwell on it for now.

As for this young Gu Cheng, whose body he now occupied, his fate seemed equally troubled.

After graduating high school in 1998, his family suffered a calamity, leaving him without funds for university, forced to fend for himself.

Some might wonder: how could a sixteen-year-old have graduated high school in 1998? Gu Cheng had been curious about this too, so he quickly searched his memories. It turned out the boy’s family was poor, so he started school a few months before turning six, and elementary school lasted only five years. All in all, circumstances led him to graduate early.

That year, still legally a minor, he was subject to strict child labor laws, making it nearly impossible to find formal work. Desperate, he heard that trainee stipends at Dongyi Entertainment were quite high (compared to domestic salaries in China at the time) and could circumvent child labor regulations. So, he left his hometown of Qiantang for the big city of Shanghai to try his luck at a recruitment event.

He had studied both Korean and Japanese with his grandmother as a child, and with his good looks, he passed the selection smoothly and signed a "contract of indenture," becoming a trainee.

A year and a half passed in this role.

During that time, he had to work as a backup dancer and harmony singer for the company’s established artists, generating revenue for them, while his own income was barely enough to get by.

Then, just moments ago, he had apparently suffered an accident during training, injuring his head and providing an opportunity for another soul to take over.

...

To call it possession wasn’t quite accurate; it was more a fusion of memories.

This, at least, saved him a lot of trouble, allowing him to adapt to his new environment more easily and quickly.

...

With his two lives’ memories now clear, Gu Cheng finally dared to open his eyes, abandoning the pretense of unconsciousness.

The light stung him a little, but he could endure it.

He found himself in the lounge of a dance studio. The room, converted from an electronics factory workshop, was spacious but windowless, with full-length mirrors on the walls for correcting posture. The fluorescent lighting overhead was a cold, harsh white, reminiscent of Foxconn's sweatshops, keeping nerves on edge.

A yellowed plastic curtain separated the lounge from the practice area, through which Gu Cheng could see several boys and girls still hard at work, apparently undisturbed by their colleague’s accident.

Beside him sat a ponytailed girl with a look of concern, spraying an aerosol can on his left leg, the stinging pain mixed with a cool numbness.

She appeared slightly wary, perhaps still blaming Gu Cheng for touching her hand when he woke.

Despite having lived two lives, Gu Cheng actually felt a bit embarrassed under the girl's pure, slightly reproachful gaze.

“I didn’t mean to just now…” he explained instinctively.

Unfortunately, he had barely begun before being interrupted.

The curtain was lifted, and a woman in her early twenties hurried in, a white-coated doctor following behind.

Gu Cheng recognized her as the company’s dance instructor, Miss An, usually quite strict.

Miss An had been informed of the accident and brought medical staff to deal with it. Upon seeing the little girl tending to Gu Cheng’s injuries, her face darkened.

"Xiaoya, why are you meddling? Use your break to rest! Leave this to the doctor."

The girl did not protest and obediently left.

Miss An watched as the doctor treated Gu Cheng’s wounds, then asked with concern,

“Hey, are you alright? Can you continue training? I heard you just passed out?”

Gu Cheng pointed to his leg and replied as calmly as possible, “It’s just a flesh wound, a couple days’ rest should do.”

“And the cut on your forehead? No risk of concussion or anything?” Miss An bent down, inspecting his forehead with a slight frown.

“No, no, it’s nothing,” Gu Cheng quickly waved it off.

He certainly didn’t want anyone to discover he’d been injured so badly as to invite a soul takeover.

“Rest up then. I’ll write you a leave note. The selection isn’t far off—focus on your recovery.”

Miss An’s last few words carried a touch of warmth. She glanced at his bandaged leg and left. Gu Cheng knew she meant well; her strictness was only to keep male and female trainees from getting too close.

...

The room quieted once more.

While the doctor was dressing his wound, he’d asked Gu Cheng a few questions, mainly about how he’d been injured.

To answer truthfully, Gu Cheng had had to search his memory carefully.

This search uncovered some inconsistencies.

Twenty minutes earlier, the body’s original owner had been injured during a group practice—on the surface, a result of poor skill.

However, he recalled that the floor where they danced was particularly slippery, and a few metal stretching bars had been temporarily moved close by. When he fell, his head struck one of them.

Piecing these clues together, it was clear this was no accident.

Suspicious, Gu Cheng lifted the curtain and walked to the spot where he’d fallen.

Most trainees continued practicing, paying him little mind. A few, however, glanced at him furtively whenever his back was turned.

The metal bars had been moved, and the floor bore traces of mopping.

Gu Cheng touched the floor and felt a lingering slickness. He brought his fingers to his nose.

There was a faint scent of Vaseline.

“So someone set me up? But why?”

Irritated and with his head aching, Gu Cheng chose not to linger on site. He returned to the lounge to sift through his memories, and soon recalled some recent events.

According to rumors, the company was planning a clandestine selection, a plan to expand its most popular boy group, H.O.T.

H.O.T. had been around for four years and was the company’s main act. Its most famous member, An Qixuan, was a star. Now, some members were chafing under exploitation and considering leaving, which the company had noticed.

So they planned to select a few male trainees as “backups,” ready to replace any disobedient members at a moment’s notice.

Clearly, someone did not want Gu Cheng to be chosen.

“Trying to injure me before the selection and eliminate a competitor? Hmph, I wouldn’t even care for this ‘spare part selection.’ But since someone dared to target me, if I don’t teach them a lesson before I leave, I’m not truly Gu Cheng.”

He pressed the sore spot on his forehead, a barely discernible sneer on his lips.

It wasn’t that he disdained being an artist—if the company respected him and let him debut solo, he’d consider it.

But to be a backup in a group, a mere puppet with no dignity before capital, replaced on a whim—what meaning was there in such a life?

In his past life, he’d been the one pulling the strings, making others dance!

A man lives but once, like the autumn grass.

Better to live boldly and independently than to submit to capital and become just another cog!

In just a few minutes, he had made up his mind: first, take revenge; then, find an excuse to escape the company’s control and return home to forge his own path.

“Getting out won’t be easy—trainees are bound by indenture contracts, and running off risks serious legal trouble.”

Gu Cheng realized he couldn’t be rash about leaving.

He decided to focus on finding out who had set him up, and let the rest be resolved in due time.

But as he followed this line of thought, another problem presented itself.

“The person who did this isn’t very bright. There are plenty of trainees—hurting me doesn’t guarantee their own selection. Who would be foolish enough to stick their neck out like this?”

He hadn’t expected that sometimes, a dull-witted enemy could actually make the investigation more difficult, especially in cases where harming another didn’t necessarily benefit oneself, making it impossible to deduce the culprit by looking for beneficiaries.

Gu Cheng was not one to overthink matters. Realizing he couldn’t solve the mystery by speculation alone, he set it aside for now.

Feeling hungry, he decided to get something to eat first and gather evidence later.