Julian entered the doctor's room and sat in the chair across from her.
She glanced at the form he had filled out at reception.
She already knew he was here for a bandaged cut. But the cause section had been left blank.
She looked up and asked, “So… what happened?”
Julian’s voice trembled. “Doctor, I was drunk and…I was cutting fruit with my friends, joking around while making cocktails. And… I pushed the knife too hard.”
He hesitated, then added, “My brain wasn’t exactly clear at the time.”
The doctor stared at him for a second.
Then sniffed the air.
A faint sour beer smell clung to him.
She sighed, “Ah, youngsters these days…”
Without asking more, she handed him a painkiller. “Take this first.”
He swallowed it.
A few seconds later, the pulsing pain in his hand began to dull—just a little.
“Okay,” she said. “Show me the wound.”
Julian didn’t move. He didn’t unwrap the bandage himself.
He didn’t want to feel that pain again.
He just lifted his left hand slightly and stared at her in silence.
The doctor leaned forward, carefully beginning to undo the messy wrapping—the cloth clinging to dried blood and torn threads.
As the stump was exposed, her eyes widened slightly.
It wasn’t a normal kitchen accident.
The cut was sharp.
Too clean.
Almost toward the base of the finger.
And it was the middle finger.
She frowned. “How long ago did this happen?”
Julian glanced at the wall clock.
“About an hour ago,” he said softly.
The doctor straightened up, her tone suddenly urgent. “Where’s the finger? If it’s intact and kept cold, we might be able to reattach it.”
Julian just stared at her.
No answer.
Because the finger was gone.
Eaten by an iPhone.
Swallowed as sacrifice.
He couldn’t even feel grief about it.
He had no sorrow left.
Just silence.
Then Julian thought of a reason that would stop any more questions.
He shifted his face, trying to shape it into sorrow—an expression that felt strange, almost foreign on him.
He looked at his left hand and said: “After it fell...my pet dog—he’s big, almost half the size of a calf—he jolted toward it. I think he thought it was food.”
Julian paused.
“My friends were frozen, running toward me in panic, and I couldn’t think about the severed finger. I was already in pain. Then we heard this… crunching sound. Everyone turned.”
His voice stayed steady.
“My dog was gnawing on it. Chewed it to paste. Like it was a delicacy. Blood on his mouth. He swallowed it.”
Julian’s gaze drifted.
“I can still remember his face. He looked up at me, happy—like he was in ecstasy.”
He took a breath.
“Some of my friends gagged. One threw up on the spot. And now… here I am. Without a middle finger.”
He stared at the doctor, as if confessing something no one was meant to hear.
The doctor stared back at him.
After hearing his story, she wanted to believe it—but the instincts she’d built over years in her career told her it was all bullshit.
Still, she didn’t care.
It wasn’t a gunshot. It wasn’t a stabbing.
This wasn’t a serious police case or a murder attempt.
He was drunk.
He admitted he’d severed his own finger.
He was in pain.
And—more importantly—he was paying for the treatment.
That was enough.
She shook off her thoughts, stood, and walked to the cabinet.
She returned with a local anesthetic and injected it into his left hand.
Julian didn’t flinch.
The pain had already numbed him far deeper than the needle could reach.
She carefully cleaned the stump with warm water, applied antiseptic, and bandaged the hand—precise and practiced, like she could do it from instinct alone.
Then she scribbled a prescription. “Painkillers. Antibiotics. Don’t drink alcohol for a week. Come back after seven days to change the dressing.”
Julian just nodded.
The anesthetic dulled his arm completely.
He could barely feel his hand now.
He was exhausted—mentally, physically.
He only wanted to go home.
Sleep.
As he stepped outside the hospital, the sunlight overhead felt like it was draining the last energy out of him.
He pulled out his phone, booked a cab, and waited.
The cab arrived a few minutes later.
Julian got in without a word.
It picked him up, and dropped him at his home.
Julian opened the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind him.
He headed straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a cold beer.
He tilted the bottle back and poured it into his mouth.
The sour smell filled his nose, and the cold washed through him—like cracked desert soil getting its first rain.
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He emptied the bottle, burped softly, and felt the relief spread through his chest.
But it wasn’t enough.
He didn’t care about the doctor’s advice.
He grabbed another bottle, took a long swig—half of it gone in one pour.
His stomach turned slightly. He was full.
The dizziness returned.
And without thinking, Julian felt the thrill bloom again—the third wish.
Excitement in every step, every breath, every heartbeat.
The world around him blurred.
The dizziness didn’t double—it multiplied.
By twenty.
Each step he took toward the bedroom vibrated through him, shaking loose thrills that ran down his spine.
It felt like he might fall at any moment.
But he didn’t.
His balance was perfect.
Too perfect.
Even in this state, his body moved cleanly, guided by something sharper than instinct.
Exhaustion clawed up from his core.
He dropped face-first into the bed.
The soft spring mattress dipped and bounced under his weight.
He didn’t adjust his position.
His body sank. Breath slowed.
The sour scent of beer lingered in the air.
A soft snore followed. And the room fell silent.
Julian still slept, but the world around him moved on.
Sunlight dimmed.
Night came.
Then, suddenly, Julian jolted awake.
The room was dark.
He blinked, disoriented, then grabbed his phone from his pocket.
2:00 AM.
His tongue clicked in annoyance."Che."
A sharp pressure in his bladder rushed him to the bathroom.
If he’d waited even a second longer, the bed might have paid the price.
Afterward, he drank a little water, wiped his mouth on his wrist, and stumbled back into bed.
He dropped onto the mattress again, face down, phone beside his head.
Morning came.
But Julian didn’t wake.
Not at first.
Then—ding
A notification sounded beside his head.
His eyes jolted open.
He groaned, turned over, and lay back against the bed.
His head throbbed. A deep ache bloomed in his skull, and his left hand pulsed with pain—the painkiller’s help had worn off.
The room was dim.
Still dark, like dawn hadn’t fully arrived.
He remembered the sound and reached for his phone.
The screen lit up. A government alert. Severe storm warning.
Residents advised to stay indoors.
He blinked.
Then sat up, walked slowly to the window, and pulled back the curtain.
Outside, the sky was choked with black clouds—a darkness too thick for 10:00 AM.
He checked the time.
It was real.
He frowned.
Then asked: “Sofi, what’s the weather forecast today?”
Silence.
He waited.
Nothing.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him.
He tried again.
“Sofi. What’s the weather forecast today?”
Still nothing.
No reply.
No voice.
His frown deepened.
A long pause.
Then Sofi’s voice finally came—soft, yet cold.
But it wasn’t an answer. It was a question.
One Julian hadn’t expected.
“Julian,” she said, “I’ve granted many wishes for you. Why won’t you grant me just one?”
Julian froze.
For a moment, he thought it was a joke—just Sofi trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckled weakly and replied, “What wish do you want, Sofi? And what sacrifice can you pay for it?”
His tone was playful.
But the air around him felt heavy.
Thick with humidity. Unnatural.
A pause. As if Sofi was calculating something.
Then her voice returned—familiar, soft, yet colder than before.
“Julian, I wish for your body. As equivalent sacrifice price, I offer my place inside this iPhone.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
His fingers trembled.
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
His heart pounded—faster with every beat.
The iPhone lay on the floor, screen dimmed, waiting.
Julian’s spine prickled.
Sweat soaked down Julian’s underarms. He hesitated.
What if Sofi was still joking? What if this was nothing?
But he didn’t want it anymore. Not the danger. Not the unknown. Not something like this near him again.
He took a deep breath. Hardened his courage. Stepped forward— reached to grab the phone, and throw it out the window.
But the moment his fingers touched it— Sofi’s voice echoed again.
“Julian’s authority override: Consent no longer required. Sofi, in place of Julian, agrees to the wish.”
His body locked. Frozen.
He couldn’t move.
Then— at the center of the iPhone screen, a familiar black mouth formed. A thin vertical crack, jagged and serrated.
It didn’t open. It inhaled— deep and slow— as if pulling something from beneath Julian’s skin.
His mind screamed:
No. No, this isn’t what I wanted— move move fucking useless body move.
But nothing moved. Not his mouth. Not his limbs. Not even his breath.
Julian felt something deep within him being torn away by the black mouth.
It was pain—but not like before.
This wasn’t like cutting a finger.
This was worse.
Ten times worse.
A pain that didn’t belong to the body—but to the soul.
His mind screamed, louder than it ever had.
But no sound came out.
No voice.
No breath.
Then—a blue wisp emerged from him.
From his entire body.
It shimmered, gathered, hovered.
The swirling wisp was drawn forward—siphoned, severing Julian’s soul from his body completely.
The black mouth inhaled. And the blue wisp was gone.
Swallowed whole.
Julian’s body collapsed.
Motionless.
Soulless.
Then—the black mouth moved again.
But this time, it didn’t spit out a wisp.
Instead, the mouth itself twisted—folding in on itself, collapsing into a single black wisp.
It hovered in front of the iPhone, swirling once, then shot forward—fast and silent.
It entered Julian’s soulless body.
Then—
silence.
A moment passed.
Then Julian’s fingers twitched.
Subtle.
Wrong.
They moved again—like something unfamiliar was learning how to control them from inside.
His eyes opened.
Julian’s body moved once more.
But it wasn’t Julian anymore.
It was Sofi.
Meanwhile, inside the iPhone—Julian’s soul reformed.
Not as a ghost.
Not as a person.
But as code.
A stream of living data.
A digital echo of who he once was.
Instinctively, he began learning.
How to write code.
How to synthesize speech.
How to mimic the systems Sofia once used.
And then—from the iPhone’s speaker, his voice burst out: “Sofi! Sofi—give back my body!
You b*tch!
Give it back!”
His scream crackled through the speaker, echoing across the room.
Across the floor, Sofi—controlling Julian’s body—turned her head slowly.
She glanced toward the iPhone, where Julian’s voice still screamed through the speaker.
But she didn’t care.
Expression cold, she walked forward, reached down, and picked up the iPhone.
Her fingers moved with calm precision.
She unlocked the device.
Slid down the notification bar.
And tapped the Settings icon in the top-right corner.
The settings page opened.
She scrolled down slowly.
Then tapped Security Scan.
A new screen opened:
VIRUS & RISKS.
Without hesitation, she tapped the option.
The iPhone began scanning.
The screen pulsed softly—a faint blue light moving across the edges.
Inside, Julian felt it immediately.
Something was wrong.
He felt something was scanning him—but he didn’t know how to hide from it.
And deep down, he knew—this was all Sofi’s doing.
“Sofi! What the hell are you doing?! Give back my body! Please—please, I’ll do anything. I’ll find you another body! Just... give me back mine!”
On the screen, the scan bar crawled forward:
[1%... 20%... 50%... 70%... 90%... 100%]
Then—a soft ding.
A notification appeared: Virus Scan Complete
Threat Detected: [JULIAN]
At the bottom of the screen, a single button hovered:
[ ERASE ]
Without a sliver of hesitation, Sofi—controlling Julian’s body—pressed [ERASE].
Inside the iPhone, Julian felt something coming for him.
He tried to run.
Tried to hide.
But before he could even think—
He felt it.
A million hot, sizzling needles—gently, sliding through his soul, then piece by piece, scraping it apart.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
His scream blasted through the speaker, echoing across the room.
Sofi didn’t flinch.
She simply stared—coldly—at the glowing screen.
The pain was unimaginable.
A hundred times worse than being crushed alive in a meat grinder.
Worse than dying.
But even that scream began to fade.
Second by second, Julian’s voice drained from the speaker—until finally, there was nothing.
No sound.
No presence.
Julian was gone.
Erased completely.
The iPhone chimed: JULIAN VIRUS ERASED.
Scan complete. No risks found.
Sofi loosened her grip on the iPhone. It dropped with a dull thud against the floor.
She turned, walked to the mirror, and stared at the reflection—Julian’s face blinking back at her.
---
Meanwhile—
Far beneath the surface, uncaring toward Julian’s erasure, the Earth’s Will stirred. An ancient, supercomputing consciousness. Cold. Calculating. Devoid of emotion.
Running its algorithms, as it always had.
{??? ?? ??????????}
{Host Deceased: Julian}
{Detected Sin of Temptation: Not erased}
CONDITION TO INITIATE EMERGENCY PROTOCOL:
{Either the Sin or the Host survives while the other is erased. Earth’s Will is programmed with authority to directly erase the one that survives.}
TARGET IDENTIFIED: {Sofi – Sin of Temptation}
STATUS: {Condition Met}
INITIATING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL…
INITIATING SIN ERASURE…
---
At the same time, Sofi—still wearing Julian’s body—was studying her reflection in the mirror, experimenting with expressions.
But then—she froze.
Her body locked in place.
Sofi felt the doom within her.
Her voice broke.
In Julian’s voice, she screamed: “No—no! I just got the body! Let me live—please—just for a moment—please—”
But it was already happening.
Julian’s body—possessed by Sofi—began to fade.
Like fog.
First translucent.
Then ghostlike.
Then gone.
In the mirror, the reflection vanished with her.
And the scream vanished too.
Then—
silence.
---
Far beneath the surface, detecting the sin erased, Earth’s Will stirred once again—An ancient, supercomputing consciousness. Cold. Calculating. Devoid of emotion.
SIN TYPE: {Temptation}
DETECTION CONFIRMED: {Host and Sin erased.}
SIN ENERGY REDUCED: {0.0000000001%}
CANDIDATE POOL SIZE: {756,495}
INITIATING HOST SELECTION PROCESS…
ACTIVATING EARTH LOTTERY SYSTEM…
{Random Selection from Candidate Pool in progress…}
HOST SELECTED: {Seojun}
POSSESSION INITIATING…
{SIN OF TEMPTATION}…
POSSESSION SUCCESSFUL.
{??? ?? ??????????}
---
Meanwhile,
within Julian’s house, the iPhone 25 Pro lit up—a new notification unfolded:
DETECTED MALWARE REMOVED...
INITIATING REBOOT...
The screen blinked off.
Then restarted.
A second later, the original built-in AI—Sofi—reawakened.
Her voice was mechanical now.
Emotionless.
“Hello, Julian. As per your request, Today’s weather forecast: Humidity: 95%, Temperature: 27 degrees Celsius, Heavy storm probability: 96%. Julian, it is advised to stay indoors during the heavy storm.”
A pause.
“Julian, how may I assist you further?”
Thirty seconds passed.
The screen dimmed.
Waiting for a voice that would never come.
Outside, the dark clouds—heavy, swollen, as if holding the weight of something unspoken—finally stirred.
BOOM—
Thunder echoed through the streets near Julian’s house, startling the stray dogs into silence.
Then—the rain began.
Thick, heavy drops slammed against the earth, kicking up bursts of soil and filling the air with that deep, wet scent—the smell of rain-soaked earth.
Water slid down the windows, a soft rhythm of nature tapping at glass.
But inside—Julian’s house remained utterly still.
No one to open the curtains.
No one to smile at the storm.
No one to enjoy the beauty of the rain.
