Synopsis

The sterile white of the room seemed to amplify the turmoil within Changho. He was adrift in a fog of disorientation, the world tilting on its axis. Each thought felt fractured, each memory a fleeting, unreliable image. How could he possibly conceal who he was, when even his own mind felt like a battlefield? The question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as he struggled to maintain a semblance of composure amidst the chaos.