The training room door slid open with a low hum. Cool air brushed over Mario's face as he stepped inside.
'It's still early… I'll first start with a jog.' He stretched his limbs overhead, rolling his shoulders back. Soft cracking sounds slipped from his joints, echoing faintly along the white walls of the empty room.
After stretching, he approached the touchscreen beside the door. The interface flickered to life at his touch, displaying a grid of room layouts.
[Dojo]… [Track and Field]… [Shooting Range]… [Gym]… and others.
He tapped Track and Field.
The transformation began immediately.
The walls reconfigured first, their smooth surfaces folding outward with precise mechanical movements, reshaping themselves into the illusion of an open track field that stretched endlessly ahead. Then the floor followed, its white panels darkening and segmenting as the advanced omnidirectional treadmill activated beneath his feet. The surface grew coarse, taking on the texture and appearance of compacted earth.
At the same time, the weapon rack along the side sank into the floor and was replaced by a simple bench, water bottles lined in neat rows beside wearable weights arranged by size.
Mario's gaze passed over them. He didn't take any weights nor drink any pills.
Instead, he took a breath and began jogging slowly around the simulated track. His breathing settled into a controlled rhythm as warmth spread through his muscles beneath the artificial sky projected overhead.
30 minutes later...
Huff… Huff… Huff...
Mario collapsed onto the simulated ground. Sweat had soaked completely through his clothes, the fabric clinging to his skin. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as he stared up at the false sky above.
'Such realism...' He thought while gazing at the simulated sky.
The strain on his body from the previous day had faded after a night's rest, largely due to the effects of the wilderness beast meat and the pills circulating through his system while he'd slept.
He shifted into a cross-legged position before closing his eyes and forcing his breathing into a steady rhythm despite the heat burning in his lungs.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Minutes passed swiftly as his breathing and heartbeat gradually calmed.
Only then did he stand and approach the bench, taking a water bottle before pulling the bottles of pills from his pocket and swallowing each one.
Moments later, the familiar discomfort of cold and heat coursed through his body, suppressing his fatigue entirely.
Without bothering to change the room's layout, he took several weights suited to his size and wore them on his torso and limbs. He then stepped to the side, planted his feet firmly on the ground, bent his knees, and extended both arms forward.
Three hours passed.
The pills' effects faded gradually as Mario collapsed onto the floor, sweat dripping freely from his body.
He clenched his teeth as pain surged through his thighs, arms, and back, enduring it for fifteen minutes.
When the pain subsided, he immediately drank water and then rested for another fifteen minutes before taking another set of pills.
Without changing spots, he immediately dropped to the floor, placing his palms against the ground. He drew a deep breath, lowering himself slowly and exhaling before pushing himself back up.
He repeated the same motion, stopping only at the count of one hundred. After that, he dragged himself forward, crawling and bracing himself against the wall before calling out for help.
The routine continued.
He was carried like a sack of rice. He ate, bathed, and then headed toward the library, returning the book and borrowing another.
Time passed as Mario remained unwavering in his routine for almost three months.
---
One Week Before the Academy
Mario stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, having just finished showering.
His reflection stared back at him, unfamiliar. His thin body was gone, replaced by a lean physique with defined muscle carved across his shoulders, arms, and abdomen.
He briefly studied his changed body before lifting his gaze to his head—or more precisely, his hair.
'I suppose no one will cut my hair for me now…' he murmured, forcing a stiff smile as he combed his hair back with his hand.
Compared to his usual mask of a smile—one that was difficult to tell was fake—the smile now plastered on his face appeared completely natural. Yet those with sharp intuition would undoubtedly notice that something was slightly off.
Mario didn't know how to feel about that. He had practiced wearing a mask of reactions his entire life, and even his simulated self had done the same.
Losing the flawless control of his expression was therefore somewhat unsettling for him.
'Something really did change in me after the second simulation.' He exhaled, feeling faintly fatigued, then lightly shook his head, setting the thought aside. '...Or maybe I didn't change at all—maybe I'm simply returning to who I truly am.'
He stepped out of the bathroom and placed his worn clothes in the basket at the side before approaching the bed and sitting down.
He leaned his back against the headboard, lost in thought. 'I should undergo a cleansing before enrolling at the academy.'
Normally, he shouldn't have needed this so early. But during those nearly three months, he had trained relentlessly to distract himself, consuming too many pills and leaving his body with a persistent bloated feeling.
'How am I supposed to acquire that many points?' he thought, remembering the half-million price required for the first stage of cleansing.
He sank into contemplation, trying to gather any useful information.
A few minutes later, he remembered that a person could take out a points loan. But as the thought surfaced, his brows furrowed. '...Half a million is a lot—something no one would simply loan to another without collateral of equal or greater value.'
'And the problem is that I have nothing valuable except the director's sword… unless—' Mario immediately shook his head, dismissing the thought.
As he shook his head, he noticed the golden card lying on the bedside table beside the book—and only then did he remember something from the second simulation. '...Arthur?'
Although his simulated self had no knowledge of unique skills and hadn't retained full memory of what had happened in the lottery building, he suspected that Arthur might be planning something against him. Because of that, he chose to remain low-key, hoping Arthur would eventually forget about him.
Still, despite his efforts, Arthur and his simulated self eventually met, and even though nothing significant happened—as Arthur only gave him a strange look before leaving him alone, as if they had never known each other—the encounter lingered in his memory.
Remembering that strange look, Mario's brows furrowed again and he unconsciously placed his thumb and index finger of his left hand on his chin. 'Why did he give me that look?'
'...And why did my simulated self never meet him afterward?'
'No, that isn't important…' He set the matter aside and considered something else. 'My simulated self met him in front of Celestine Hotel. And based on how easily he transferred a hundred thousand points, Arthur can't be an ordinary person.'
'But even if I had realized that… how would that change my current situation?'
Arthur remained somewhat enigmatic to him—especially since he had technically given him more than the prize money he had won, and had done so without asking for anything in return. Previously, that unspoken generosity had made him slightly uneasy. Now, he wasn't sure what to feel. After the second simulation, his emotions had flattened, leaving even that lingering discomfort muted and indistinct.
Still lost in thought, Mario took the golden card from the small table beside the bed and held it between his index and middle fingers. 'If my guess is right… he wanted to use me as some kind of pawn.'
'...But it's also possible that nothing will happen, just like in the second simulation.' He immediately rejected that possibility. The first simulation had already differed from reality when he met Arthur—so how could he blindly trust the second simulation to unfold the same way?
'I might as well try, then…' He unconsciously gripped the golden card a little tighter as he considered the possible consequences. 'But by doing this, I could end up reminding him of my existence.'
Mario knew that the moment it happened, he would find himself on the chessboard—whether as a piece or as someone behind it, he did not yet know. Still, unlike in the second simulation, he would not remain passive.
'I suppose time will tell.' He stood up, left his unit holding the golden card in his hand, and headed toward the ground floor.
—
Upon reaching the ground floor, Mario walked straight toward the AI human at the front desk and put on his usual mask, just in case.
"Umm… I want to inquire about the cleansing." His voice carried hesitation as he paused. "...How does it work?"
The AI woman turned her head toward him and replied, [Sir, cleansing works by purifying your body of any impurities, thereby making it healthier.]
"T-that's it?" Mario stammered briefly, averting his gaze. "I mean, is there anything more?"
The AI woman paused, her eyes brightening slightly. Moments later, she answered, [Sir, it can also assist the body in recovering from certain hidden injuries.]
'Hmm… did that instructor lie to the simulated me? Or does she not know anything?... Well, I guess that isn't important.' Mario calmly analyzed internally for two seconds before asking again. "Umm… how much is it, then?"
[Sir, it depends. There are three stages of cleansing. The first stage is "Muscle and Veins," priced at half a million. The second is "Organ Cleansing," priced at five million, and lastly, the third is "Marrow Cleansing," priced at fifty million.] She replied in the same tone.
"...T-that much?" Mario's expression turned shocked, though he wasn't surprised internally since he already knew.
Then he shifted his expression to disappointment before turning and slowly walking away, muttering with an exhale, "Sigh… it's a pity I don't have enough points."
As he said that, he intentionally revealed the golden card.
Seeing the card, the AI woman zoomed in her lenses and scanned the database for its information.
Mario's profile appeared above the card, but the AI woman didn't look at it—instead, her attention shifted to the origin of the card.
[Signed by: Arthur White] Only a signature was displayed, but that alone was sufficient.
The AI woman halted the scan and contacted the hotel's management superiors regarding the identity of the name.
Meanwhile, Mario glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his face settling back into its usual aloof and indifferent expression as he headed toward the underground elevator, then to the library.
Upon reaching the library, he wandered between the shelves, searching for something to read.
Half an hour later, he approached the librarian, placed the book on the counter, and said, "Please record this. I'm going to borrow it until midnight."
His voice was calm, almost flat, as he didn't put on his mask — but this time, he was aware of it.
The woman looked up from her book, pulled out a ledger from the drawer beneath her table, then took a pen from the side and recorded Mario's name and the book's title.
After that, Mario walked out of the library holding the book in his left hand. 'Now it's only a matter of waiting.'