The village was quiet.
Tucked between the folds of Korea's mist-shrouded mountains, the place had no name on maps. Just a cluster of homes, dirt roads, and fog-covered fields. Most who lived here had long stopped hoping for more. There were no bright lights, no grand stories — just the rhythm of weather and the weight of survival.
Among the scattered rooftops, one home stood at the edge — small, with a slanted roof patched in places with metal sheets. Inside, a young man stirred from sleep.
His name was Jin.
No last name, not legally at least. His parents had died when he was twelve. After that, no relatives had taken him in, so he drifted through the system for a while until he aged out. He had left the city behind with shattered pride and returned to the village of his birth, hoping at least the mountains would be kinder than the people.
He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't the kind of person people remembered either. He was thin, average height, with tired eyes and short hair that never sat right no matter how he combed it. People in the city never took him seriously. In school interviews, jobs, even social interactions—he had always felt invisible.
Still, he had dreams.
Not just dreams. Obsessions.
At night, Jin would read manhwa like Lookism, Solo Leveling, Legend of the Northern Blade. He'd devour novels — stories of weak boys becoming kings, of rejects becoming legends. He watched every drama, every anime, every movie where the underdog rose and walked among giants.
He didn't want to be average. He wanted to be remembered.
But dreams didn't pay rent.
So he worked. He cooked and delivered food to the only place in the village that paid well: the old military bunker near the top of the hill. Technically off-limits, but it was clear some sort of scientific work was going on inside. Strange trucks would arrive at night. Foreigners sometimes came, but they never stayed long. And always, always — tight security.
Still, they liked Jin's food. And they paid in cash, always on time.
The walk to the bunker took 30 minutes. The road was mostly gravel and moss. On misty mornings, it felt like walking through a forgotten world.
---
It was during one of those deliveries that everything changed.
Jin was late that day.
He had spent too long watching a behind-the-scenes video about Lookism. He had always admired Daniel Park—the way he transformed from nothing into someone admired, feared, desired. There was something poetic about it. Something personal.
He packed the food: bulgogi, kimchi, rice, and a flask of hot soup. Slung the bag over his shoulder. And started his climb.
But when he reached the entrance, the heavy steel doors were…open.
Smoke. The faint scent of burning plastic and chemicals lingered in the air. The keypad to the lab entrance was sparking. One of the outer lights was flickering erratically. Something had gone wrong.
He hesitated.
"Hello?" he called out. "It's Jin. I brought food."
Silence.
He stepped inside.
The hallway was long, lined with white tiles and glowing overhead panels. He had never been allowed past the reception area before. But now, no one stopped him.
No one was alive to.
He found bodies.
Three scientists in lab coats. Two guards near the inner chamber. All of them dead — not violently, but clearly exposed to something lethal. Some had blood from the nose and ears. One had collapsed mid-sentence, judging by the papers strewn around.
Panic clawed at Jin's chest. He should have run. Called someone. Anyone.
But something deeper pulled him forward.
In the heart of the bunker, past a sealed glass door cracked by the blast, he found it —
The chamber.
A cylindrical pod stood in the center. Tubes running into it. Screens glowing with unreadable data. And inside, suspended in liquid, was…
Perfection.
A body.
Tall. Muscular but not bulky. Smooth skin. A face sculpted by the gods themselves.
And it looked exactly like Daniel Park.
Or rather, what Daniel Park from Lookism would look like in real life. Alive. Breathing. Not a statue. Not a clone. Something else.
On a table nearby lay a tablet, still running. Its screen showed a user interface with symbols, diagrams, and a language Jin had only seen in passing: neural transfer protocols. Mind-mapping. Cognitive conversion.
It didn't take long to piece together.
This was the experiment.
This was the secret.
A body, grown and built through science and AI, designed to hold a consciousness. A perfect body with all learnable human skills downloaded directly into its brain. Knowledge of every science, language, art, and even street-level survival. The peak of human potential in every domain.
But the transfer never happened. The billionaire who funded it… was dead. The scientists, also gone.
And Jin was alone.
He stared at the tablet. The system had a final line of code blinking:
> [Awaiting Conscious Transfer – Host Body Ready]
His hands shook. His breath caught. Could it… actually work?
He wasn't a scientist. But he had read hundreds of sci-fi novels, watched every twist imaginable. He understood how it was supposed to work. A soul didn't need code — it needed intention.
He stood in front of the pod.
He thought of every rejection. Every job he lost. Every date that never happened. Every time he was overlooked, forgotten, dismissed.
He thought of Daniel Park — the boy who changed everything by changing himself.
And he whispered, "I'm ready."
The chamber lit up.
---
He awoke in darkness.
Or not darkness—something else. Sensory recalibration. He couldn't feel his limbs at first. But then, sensation returned. The smell of antiseptic. The gentle hum of life support ending. Then:
Pain.
But only for a second. Then it vanished.
He opened his eyes.
The world was… sharper. The colors had more depth. His skin felt smooth, powerful. His thoughts raced — but in control. He knew languages he never studied. Mathematics at absurd levels. Details of art, engineering, psychology — all coiled within him like a living library.
He looked into the reflective glass of the pod.
Daniel Park stared back.
His new name. His new face. His new life.
And beside him, as the system powered down, lay a black phone.
A note appeared on its screen:
> [This device allows complete alteration of external appearance. Facial structure, height, tone. Use with caution.]
He smiled for the first time in years.
He was no longer Jin, the village nobody.
He was something else now.
This is My first novel
So give any recommendations how I work on this