Chapter 1

On my eighteenth birthday, the sky was a dull shade of gray.

It wasn't a cloudy day; it was that kind of oppressive feeling that seeped right into people's bones, like the air had been filtered by the Dominion Network—cool, restrained, stripped of all emotion.

The city was eerily quiet, like a bottomless well where people kept jumping in, but not a single sound ever made its way back out.

I stood at the entrance of the Identity Registration Hall, next to a line of other expressionless eighteen-year-olds, all neatly dressed in white shirts. It was as if we were prisoners who already knew what sentence awaited us, but we were too powerless to resist.

"Number 10734, Roy Ye. Please enter."

Hearing my name still made my stomach drop. The voice came from speakers in the ceiling—cold, emotionless, final.

I walked inside.

The hall was blindingly bright, everything white and sterile under harsh fluorescent lights. A massive holographic display dominated the far wall, showing five identity options the system had generated just for me.

[C-Class Civil Servant: Stable, predictable lifestyle.]

[B-Class Technician: Repetitive labor until retirement.]

[E-Class Clerk: Minimum subsistence wage.]

[A-Class Researcher: High-compliance requirement. Marriage prohibited.]

[D-Class Freelancer: Variable income. No retirement benefits.]

I stared at those five options for what felt like forever.

Red text flashed below the screen. [Complete identity selection within 60 seconds. Failure to comply will result in forfeiture of basic social privileges.]

Part of me wanted to just pick something—anything. At least then, I'd still have a place in the Dominion Network.

But suddenly, I remembered something my dad had secretly told me once when I was younger.

"You only get one life. Why should they decide who you are?"

I didn't know how many times those words had been bouncing around in my head, but right then, my heart started pounding, my hands went numb, and everything became crystal clear.

"I'm not choosing," I said.

The whole hall went dead silent for a moment. Then, the screen flashed angry red.

"Invalid selection. Number 10734 will be stripped of identity privileges."

I didn't move. Didn't look back.

A minute later, I walked out. Everyone behind me was staring like I'd just lost my mind, or like security was about to drag me away.

But honestly? I felt more alive than I had in years.

I'd just torn up the script they'd written for my life.

I had no idea I'd just turned the whole city against me.

I figured refusing to pick an identity meant I'd be free. Turns out I was wrong. Saying no wasn't freedom. It was signing my own death warrant.

The moment I left Identity Registration Hall, my name got a new tag——"Unbound."

My phone basically died. Payment apps wouldn't work, my contacts vanished, and I couldn't even check the weather.

I was locked out of everything—buses, food delivery, hell, even my own apartment.

I was a legal ghost—officially alive but completely erased from the Dominion Network.

When I got to my building, the gate scanner turned red, and the security guard blocked my path. "Your identity is invalid. You can't come in."

"I've lived here my whole life," I frowned.

"Sorry kid, but the Dominion Network says you don't exist."

I started to argue, but he hit the panic button on his vest.

Every security camera at the entrance turned my way, red recording lights blinking like angry eyes.

"You need to leave now, or I'm calling the cops," the security guard said.

I didn't fight it. I knew the world wasn't fair.

As I walked away, I heard him call out softly, "Look, it's nothing personal, but... you're not part of society anymore."

*****

That night, I sat under a highway overpass, watching my phone light up with a message.

[Unbound Number 10734, you have 24 hours to select an identity. Non-compliance will result in classification as a destabilizing element. The Identity Management Bureau will handle non-compliance.]

Handle? What did that mean exactly?

I stared at that message until the words blurred together. One word kept bouncing around my head—handled.

When I was not supposed to exist, they wouldn't just leave me alone.

Footsteps clattered on the overpass above me. Someone stopped right at the edge.

I looked up. A girl in a gray hoodie peered down at me, her face mostly hidden under a baseball cap.

She glanced around, then tossed something down. An energy bar landed next to me. "You should eat. The Dominion Network's got you marked now."

"Who are you?" I asked.

She grinned from ear to ear. "You can call me... a traitor."