books44 Chapter 563 [Empire] No one has decided for me yet.
Chapter 563 [Empire] No one has decided for me yet.
I do not know.
The answer echoed repeatedly in my mind, but it never found a place, as if I had been thrown into a well that was too deep, and even the echo was slow to appear.
It's like Stockholm syndrome.
I was forced to come to military academy, coerced into enrollment, deprived of my right to choose, and forced into a system that wasn't entirely prepared for me. Yet, ironically, when all of that was taken away, I began to feel torn apart.
What am I so obsessed with these things for?
I looked down at my hands.
empty.
It wasn't that I "didn't grasp anything," but rather that my hands were truly empty. The lines on my palms were clear yet unfamiliar, like a sheet of paper that had never been written on. I tried to recall the things that once filled these hands—the weight of weapons, the tactile sensation of the tactical interface floating on the surface, the resonance that came from deep within my bones when energy was circulating, and the feedback when plant roots connected with my mental field—but those memories seemed to be shrouded in a thick fog at this moment.
It didn't disappear.
Instead, it cannot be invoked.
What was I again?
Mercenaries?
student?
soldier?
Descendants of the Ye family?
Or is it a foreign consciousness stuffed into someone else's body?
What is my name?
This question suddenly became unusually jarring.
It's not that I've truly forgotten; it's just that at this moment, I realize that a name seems to have lost its meaning. Without an identity system, without social anchors, without others' responses to the name, then the "name" itself is nothing more than a syllable echoing in the mind.
I came into this body.
This fact is absurd enough, yet for a long time, I've constantly overshadowed it with action, missions, battles, training, and the intense reality. As long as we don't stop, as long as we keep moving forward, as long as we keep our focus on the next step, there's no need to look back.
But now, I've been forced to stop.
All the structures that could be used to escape have been removed.
Who am I?
This problem is no longer philosophical; it has become a physiological shock. The dizziness comes without warning, as if blood has suddenly withdrawn from the brain, the edges of the field of vision begin to turn white, and the tinnitus rapidly intensifies.
I instinctively reached out to grab something, but only grasped the cold air.
I felt dizzy in waves.
The impact was so intense that it briefly disrupted my consciousness. Emotions surged uncontrollably at that moment, yet there was no outlet; they could only pound against my chest.
The intense emotional impact left me momentarily speechless.
In that instant, I couldn't even organize my thoughts. Language, logic, and self-awareness seemed to have been simultaneously paused, leaving only an extremely primal feeling—
air.
I seem to be nothing.
It's not because I can't do anything, but because the question of "what am I" has lost its frame of reference. There are no labels, no definitions. Everything I once used to confirm myself has become external in this moment.
External objects can be taken away.
This realization terrifies me more than the loss of my fighting ability.
Because if I only "exist because of the environment," then I will completely disappear once the environment changes.
What is this? What exactly is this?
It felt like something was pressing down hard on my chest, and my breathing became intermittent. I could feel my heart beating faster, but it wasn't strong, like futilely pounding on an empty cavity.
But within this blank space, something stubbornly refused to disappear.
It's not an identity. It's not a memory. It's not a name.
Rather, it was an extremely clear, almost stinging, emotion—
I'm not reconciled. I'm not reconciled.
This thought was like a nail, forcibly fixing me in place. It wasn't gentle; it was even somewhat brutal, yet its reality was undeniable.
I am not willing to be defined as "a part that can be stripped away".
I am unwilling to accept that my existence can only depend on the system, identity, rank, authority, or the recognition of others.
I am unwilling to accept that everything I have experienced—battles, choices, sacrifices, judgments, emotions—has become as if it never happened after I lost my vessel.
Not reconciled.
This emotion brought me back to the edge of consciousness.
I slowly regulated my breathing, forcing myself to bring my attention back to my body. My heart was still beating fast, but no longer erratically. The dizziness was still there, but no longer intensifying. I could feel the support of the chair, the hardness of the ground, and the temperature of the air.
I'm still here.
Even if it is nothing.
Even if everything is stripped away.
I am still here.
This fact itself has begun to become exceptionally important.
Perhaps I cannot answer the question "Who am I?" right now.
Perhaps I have temporarily lost everything that could prove this.
But at least one thing is certain—
I do not want to disappear.
They are unwilling to be reclassified, sealed away, placed, or forgotten.
I don't want to become the kind of person who "may have been something in the past, but is no longer important now."
I slowly clenched my empty hand.
No weapons. No quantum computers. No plants.
But this action itself made me feel a power that still belonged to me in this blank space.
It doesn't come from identity. It doesn't come from the system.
It stems from the simplest and most direct judgment—
As long as I'm still thinking about this question, as long as I'm still unwilling to accept it, as long as I still want an answer.
So, "who I am" has not been decided for me by anyone.