Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
[There are 3 ways to survive in a ruined world. Now, I have forgotten a few, but one thing is certain. The fact that you, who are reading this now, will survive.]
A web novel platform filled the screen of my old smartphone. I scrolled down and then up again. How many times have I been doing this?
“Really? This is the end?”
I looked again, and the ‘complete’ was unmistakable.
The story was over.
[Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.]
Author: tls123
3,149 chapters.
‘Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World’ was a feature-length fantasy novel with 3,149 chapters. Its shortened name was ‘Ways of Survival.’
I have been steadily reading this novel since the third year of middle school.
During the time when I was bullied by iljins, when I ruined my entrance examinations and had to enter a local university, when the damned random draw went wrong and I was placed in the military unit at the forefront, when I repeatedly switched jobs and am now working as a contractor for an affiliate of a large company …
Damn, let’s stop talking about this. Anyway …
[Author’s Words: Thank you so much for reading ‘Ways of Survival’ up to here. I will come back to you with an epilogue!]
“Ah … The epilogue still remains. Then the next chapter is really the last one.”
From the end of childhood to adulthood, it’d been a journey that lasted over a huge period of 10 years. There was a mixture of despondency that the world I had grown with was coming to an end along with a sense of satisfaction.
I opened the comment box of the last message and rewrote the sentence several times.
[Kim Dokja: Writer, thank you for everything in the meantime. I am looking forward to the epilogue.]
They were sincere sentences. ‘Ways of Survival’ was my life’s novel. It wasn’t the most popular, but it was the best novel for me.
There were many words I wanted to say, but I couldn’t write them. I was afraid that my careless words would hurt the writer.
An average of 1.9 hits per chapter. An average of 1.08 comments. This was the average popularity index of ‘Ways of Survival.’
The number of views for the first chapter was 1,200, but it fell to 20 by the 10th chapter, and then 12 for the 50th chapter. By the time the 100th chapter was published, the number was only 1.
Hits = 1.
I was overwhelmed by the feeling I got when I saw the numerous ‘1’s that appeared next to the list of chapters. In some cases, there was a ‘2,’ but it was most likely someone pressing the wrong button.
[Thank you.]
The author published a novel with more than 3,000 chapters with just 1 hit per chapter over a period of 10 years. It was truly a story just for me.
I pressed on the ‘Recommendation Board’ and immediately started tapping on the keyboard.
[I am recommending a honey jam novel.]
The author wrote me a free completed novel, so I should send them a recommendation. I clicked on the completed button and comments quickly appeared.
[It looks like a new anti. I searched for this person’s ID, and they recommended the same novel several times.]
[Isn’t his recommendation banned? The author shouldn’t do this here.]
It occured to me that I had written a recommendation several months ago. In an instant, there were dozens of comments for investigation by ‘spectators.’ My face flushed with embarrassment. I was sure that the author would read this, and so I hurriedly tried to delete the message, but it had already been reported and could no longer be removed.
“This …”
It was upsetting to think that the recommendation written with all my sincerity turned out like this. If they even looked a little bit, why didn’t anyone try reading the interesting novel? I wanted to give a donation to the writer, but I couldn’t afford it as I was a salary worker who was barely able to make a living. Then, I received a notification that a ‘message has arrived.’
[tls123: Thank you.]
A message flew in from out of nowhere. It took me a while to grasp the situation.
[Kim Dokja: The author?]
Tls123—it was the author of ‘Ways of Survival.’
[tls123: I was able to complete it to the end thanks to you. I also won the competition.]
I couldn’t believe it. ‘Ways of Survival’ won a competition?
[Kim Dokja: Congratulations! What is the competition?]
[tls123: You won’t know it because it is an unknown competition.]
I wondered if he had lied because he was ashamed, but I wanted it to be true. Perhaps I really didn’t know, it might be a big hit on other platforms. I was a little sad, but it was good to have an excellent story spread.
[tls123: I would like to send a special gift to you as a thank you.]
[Kim Dokja: Gift?]
[tls123: It is thanks to my dear reader that this story has come into the world.]
I gave the writer my email address as they asked.
[tls123: Ah, right. I got the monetization schedule.]
[Kim Dokja: Wow, really? When will it start? This masterpiece should’ve been paid for from the beginning …]
It was a lie. ‘Ways of Survival’ was a daily series, so I would’ve had to spend 3,000 won a month. 3,000 won was one convenience-store lunch for me. There was no chance that I would’ve been able to afford reading it for this long if it’d been a paid service.
[tls123: The monetization starts tomorrow.]
[Kim Dokja: Then the epilogue coming tomorrow will be paid?]
[tls123: Yes, I’m afraid you need to pay for it.]
[Kim Dokja: Of course, I have to pay! I will buy the last one!]
There was no reply from the author afterward. I logged out of the site. Then, I felt the pessimism sink in. The author had left without a reply after they’d succeeded in convincing me to pay for the final chapter …? My admiration turned into petty jealousy. What was I so excited for? In any case, it wasn’t my novel. And from a reader’s perspective, it wasn’t like the story was flawless either. No matter how well the author wrote the epilogue, the ending that I wanted to see would not be there.
Ever since the end of the 999th regression arch, I’d been sharing more of my thoughts in the comments. By far, that regression had been my favourite. Not just because of what the protagonist had accomplished, but because it was when I had discovered my favourite ‘Ways of Survivor’ character.
The deuteragonist of the story who had disappeared after the 999th regression.
Pro-Hacker Seo Jinhwan.
At that time, I was thinking naïvely. I didn’t know anything about what would happen to the world the next day.
Chapter 2: A Hacker's Fate
Chapter Text
[WARNING: Your incarnation body is in a severely weakened state! Any excessive actions will result in irreversible consequences.]
Seo Jinhwan could hardly contain his bitter smile despite his inevitable death crawling closer and closer.
“That damn bastard.”
The Star Stream, the constellations, the dokkaebi, the scenarios, or even the entire world. He wasn’t sure who it was he was cursing, but those were the only words he could find forming on the tip of his tongue.
No. That wasn’t it. He knew exactly who his words were aimed at.
A humourless laugh finally tumbled through his dry throat, his pale lips curving into a crooked smirk as he glared up at the twinkling lights in the sky. His ash brown hair, once fluffy and soft, was matted by filth and blood and fell in clumps towards his dark, phoenix shaped eyes. Long gone was the black mask he kept covering his face, revealing his gentle yet refined features marked by old scars and fresh wounds alike. The midnight black coat he wore, a gift from his fallen comrade, was torn to ribbons, and the clothes he wore beneath them were hardly in any better shape.
His sword, Blade of Tainted Souls, had now become his crutch. Its white tip was buried in the ground as he leaned his weight against its hilt, unable to hold himself upright without it. Dried blood and deep scratches marred its white blade, its hilt burning from the warmth of its owner’s hands.
Was this how he would finally die?
Seo Jinhwan couldn’t help but ponder the idea. It would be rather anticlimactic if he died here, only moments away from reaching the end of the scenarios. Or perhaps, the scenario had already been cleared by now. The rest of his companions had moved on, not seeming to have noticed the poor condition of their substitute leader behind them.
His entire body was aching, several of his bones shattered. Fables were leaking out of him by the second, blood beginning to pool on the ground and already-bloody corpses beneath him. And yet he knew … he knew that if he really wanted to, he could keep moving forward.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he whispered, resting his forehead against the hilt of his blade. His shoulders trembled as cold, near-hysteric chuckles clawed at the back of his throat. “You goddamn bastard. How dare you befriend me in the one regression you decide to experiment with sacrificing yourself?”
For the past month, that was all he could think about. Every single regression—every single turn he’d infiltrated with the use of his ability—he’d been Yoo Joonghyuk’s sworn enemy. They’d never once stopped to question why. Their views were too different, and that was more than enough for them to lift their swords. A Pro-Gamer and a Pro-Hacker, how could they possibly see eye-to-eye? And so they never tried.
But then why the hell had he decided to play peacemaker this time? What was so special about the 999th turn that he wanted to try something different?
But most importantly … Why the hell did it almost work?
Almost. That was the key word there. Because Seo Jinhwan was here, at the end of the 99th scenario, and Yoo Joonghyuk was …
“Bastard,” Seo Jinhwan repeated. He lifted his gloved hand, wiping the blood that dripped from the corner of his lips. “If it was just going to end like this … why didn’t you let me follow you?”
That was part of his ability. If he was in the highest level of activation of his ‘Pixelation’ skill at the moment Yoo Joonghyuk’s ‘Regression’ stigma was activated, his subconscious would falter into the ‘database’ of the next worldline he regressed to. From there, his ‘Hard Drive’ skill would activate and his subconscious, along with all its memories, would transfer into that world line.
This had been another reason for their inherent rivalry. From the beginning, Seo Jinhwan was a nuisance. Even if Yoo Joonghyuk managed to kill him, he’d remain in his pixelated form until the former regressed. Not to mention how utterly annoying it was to have a blurry swarm of pixels taunting him wherever he went.
But this time, it’d been different.
Usually, when Yoo Joonghyuk regressed he would glare at Seo Jinhwan and hiss, “Don’t burden me in the next regression.” To which Seo Jinhwan would in fact do.
Not this time though. In their final exchange, right before Yoo Joonghyuk had died in his arms, he had forced him into a promise.
“Do not follow me into the next regression, Jinhwan,” he’d breathlessly said. “Promise … Promise that you will take them to the end of the scenario for me. Witness the end of this world with them.”
A single tear trickled down Seo Jinhwan’s face.
“Joonghyuk, you damn fool,” he cursed, body cringing into his blade as all his fighting spirit finally dissipated. “They are more than capable of seeing the end without me, and I … wouldn’t have minded following you one last time … as your companion from the very beginning.”
The grip he’d had on his sword gave in and his body sank helplessly to the ground—with no one there to catch him. His knees collided with the ground, the bruises and scrapes along his legs tearing open. There was no more hard work left to do. To reach the end he had sought for so long, all he had to do was call out to his team. All he had to do was use one of the healing pills he had stored in the pocket of his coat. All he had to do was get up and cross that final stretch and stand among the peers that he had come to call his team.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t keep fighting. He couldn’t keep leading them. Or even claim to be leading them, because he was well aware that they’d only pretended to listen to his orders out of courtesy to their true one.
He couldn’t complete this scenario. But it wasn’t because he was incapable, not because he was too wounded or had run out of supplies or power. It was because he didn’t want to—because he had lost something he never realized he’d had.
The will to keep fighting. The will to have hope. The will to survive.
And someone who had been willing to lay down their life so he could live to see the end of the world. Someone who he could call a companion—a companion through life and death.
But now he was gone, and he was alone.
Previously, his promise had kept him from faltering. But now, he had done his part.
And so, for possibly the last time, Seo Jinhwan shut his eyes.
I don’t want to finish this scenario.
The words appeared in the blank expanse of his mind. One line at a time, a quiet thought whispering gently into his ear. But like the first droplets of rain before a storm, the words didn’t stop and instead, began to pour.
I don’t want to finish this scenario. I don’t want to finish this scenario. I don’t want to finish this scenario. I don’t want to finish this scenario.
Over and over and over again, each piercing a dagger into his heart.
I don’t want to finish this scenario.
He really didn’t. Not like this, not with these conditions.
I don’t want to finish this scenario in this world where you no longer exist.
An ill-fated relationship from the very beginning. His sworn enemy. His rival. For hundreds and hundreds of regressions, that was all they had been; foes with their weapons held at each other’s neck, day in and day out without question or fail.
But then … But then they’d become temporary acquaintances fighting against a common foe. Then they’d been reluctant allies for the sake of the scenarios. And then …
Companions.
Seo Jinhwan wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but at some point or another, he’d found himself in a tricky situation he wasn’t too confident in avoiding—and it had been Yoo Joonghyuk who had come running to his rescue.
“If you lay one more hand on my companion, I will never forgive you.”
And for some reason, warmth had melted the edges of Seo Jinhwan’s heart of ice.
“I don’t want to see the end without you,” he mumbled. His numb fingers dug into the ground, new cuts beginning to form along his fingertips.
For the first time in the hundreds of regressions he’d partaken in, Seo Jinhwan wanted to give up. For the first time, he wanted to start over. But for the first time, that wasn’t an option anymore. There would be no other turn for him. No chance to start over, no room for any kind of hope for a different ending.
This was ‘The End.’
But he refused to accept it.
He refused to accept an ending that did not have Yoo Joonghyuk in it.
[Incarnation Seo Jinhwan.]
It was the true voice of a constellation Seo Jinhwan had never heard from before. Not in this regression and not in any of the ones before.
His eyes, devoid from the light that had once blazed within them, looked up towards the sky.
[Incarnation Seo Jinhwan, do you want the chance to regress?]
*********
When Yoo Joonghyuk regressed for the 1000th time, he was alone. He’d known it from the very moment his eyes had opened and he’d found himself back in carriage 3707.
There had been no choice. If there had been, he wouldn’t have regressed. He wouldn’t have regressed, even if he was missing every limb and every sense. But there had been no other option, he’d gone as far as he could.
And so the 999th regression had come to an end, and the 1000th began. But this time, the regressor was alone. This time, there was no reckless hacker infiltrating his regression.
This time, there was no Seo Jinhwan.
A cold feeling fell upon Yoo Joonghyuk as he stared blankly around his subway carriage. An emotion he couldn’t begin to understand flowed through him, pressing like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He’d been trying for so long to prevent that bothersome fool from following him, but now that he finally had what he’d always wanted …
He no longer understood why he had ever longed for the other’s absence in the first place.
Was it because he’d finally found mutual ground with the skilled hacker? Because he would have one less foe? Because he’d lost the strongest ally he could gain?
No. No, the reality was something far different.
Seo Jinhwan was not the strongest ally he had. Nor was he the most skilled, or even the most intelligent. His swordsmanship was average, he lacked any proper offensive skills, his plans were not foolproof. There were several incarnations who outmatched him in any, or perhaps even in all, aspects. Which was why those were not the reasons the regressor regretted abandoning him in the previous regression.
He had always been his companion. In one form or another, the Pro-Hacker Seo Jinhwan had always been the companion of Pro-Gamer Yoo Joonghyuk.
No one understood what it meant to regress.
No one understood the pain of losing a loved one over, over, over, and over again. To attempt to correct a mistake only to slip further and further away from salvation. To live with hatred over something that never happened, to live with love for someone who did not exist. No one understood how it felt to have memories of a world of outcomes, situations, and people … while existing in a world where they had yet, or never would, exist.
No one knew what it was like to be forced to die again and again, and be reborn into a world where they were the only ones really alive.
No one knew.
No one but the hacker who followed him and witnessed every single thing for himself. The hacker who, despite the betrayals and evil he saw repeated without fail, refused to cease hoping for a brighter future. The hacker who observed and planned every little detail, but would never hesitate to toss aside his goals for the sake of someone else. The hacker who pretended to be a charming yet aloof rebel, when in reality, he felt more like an outcast than the regressor himself ever had. The broken son who dreamed of creating a world where no one would suffer the same fate as he did.
Only Seo Jinhwan could understand Yoo Joonghyuk. Because it was only Seo Jinhwan who had been able to stand by his side through each turn. Whether or not they had been friends, whether they had been teammates or foes, he had been there for each torturous round. He was the only one who had lived by the same circumstances as the lone regressor.
And now he was gone—left behind in the 999th regression.
Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t sure when he had started moving, nor was he sure when those splatters of blood had painted everything red. He wasn’t sure when the screaming started, and he wasn’t sure when it ended either.
[You have killed a living organism.]
[You obtained 100 bonus coins.]
[You have killed a living organism.]
[You obtained 100 bonus coins.]
[You have killed a living organism.]
[You obtained 100 bonus coins.]
The notifications came pouring, the sharp sounds of ‘ding!’ ringing in his ears as dead bodies collapsed into an unrecognisable mess of blood and flesh. Silence fell into the subway car, broken only by the heavy sound of Yoo Joonghyuk’s breaths, and then—
Ding.
[Main Scenario #1 PROVE YOUR VALUE has ended.]
[Number of survivors in Carriage 3707 of Train Number 3434 to Bulgwang: 1]
Without a word, Yoo Joonghyuk turned and kicked open the doors. A muscle in his jaw tightened as he walked through the forcibly opened doorway of his carriage.
Despite lready having reached the truth, he couldn’t stop himself from pausing outside the door. It was almost instinct for him to stand there for a moment, his eyes instantly searching for the carriage labelled 3407.
Seo Jinhwan’s arrogant half-smile did not greet him, because the individual himself was nowhere to be found.
Attributes Window.
The familiar blue light illuminated Yoo Joonghyuk’s somber face. His eyes searched for the skill that annoyed him more than any other, the skill he had attempted to delete at the start of every regression save for the last one. But, it too, was not there.
‘Hard Drive.’ The skill that transferred Seo Jinhwan’s subconscious to the regression Yoo Joonghyuk was in—it was missing.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands trembled, an expression that could almost be called grief flashed across his stoic features.
“Seo Jinhwan,” he muttered, as if it would make the hacker pixelate in front of him.
The numbing silence was its own answer.
Standing alone in the subway, the lone regressor shut his eyes and took a deep breath. This was a good thing, he had to remind himself. If that skill was no longer attached to him, then Seo Jinhwan must’ve reached ‘The End’ of the 999th regression. Good. That was what he had wanted.
But no matter how much he reminded himself of that fact, the tremble in his hands wouldn’t stop.
When he opened his eyes, they were darker than they had been before—as if the light within them had been extinguished. Or rather, left behind.
One last time, his gaze shifted towards the carriage three away from his own.
Yoo Joonghyuk stood there in complete silence a moment longer before finally leaving to move on to the area for the next scenario. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he was leaving something behind. The feeling that something was missing. The feeling that came from the hollowness that followed the empty space beside him where his rival turned companion was supposed to be.
And so he walked towards a regression without Seo Jinhwan.
Chapter 3: Strange Regression (I)
Chapter Text
Seo Jinhwan’s head hurt.
He’d opened his eyes and found himself back on carriage 3407 of the subway Train 3434 to Bulgwang. It was just the same as it had been the previous times this situation had occurred. Except this time, there were thoughts scattered around in his brain. Thoughts that he couldn’t even begin to decipher.
Did every regression start this way? For some reason he couldn’t quite remember. And that most certainly wasn’t supposed to be the case.
The more he tried to think about the details of the past, the more the pain in his head grew. Those files of his memories, the ones that were meant to unlock at the start of each turn … He could feel them, the memories of the past, but every time he tried to reach them, they’d slip right through his fingers. The ringing had erupted into sparks of throbbing fits of electricity pulsing through his mind, and he lifted a hand to gently massage his temples.
Was something wrong? What had happened at the end of the last regression? Why the hell couldn’t he remember?
Then, a slightly distorted screen flashed in front of his eyes.
[Personal skill, ‘Hard Drive’ Lv.6, is unable to fully activate.]
[Partial activation has restored some memories.]
[Please wait while the database is being restored. Previous memories will unlock once the database is online.]
[Effects of damaged activation of ‘Hard Drive’ are in effect.]
Seo Jinhwan leaned his head against the window behind him. His ‘Hard Drive’ skill had failed? That had never happened to him before. Could it have been because of something he’d done in the previous round? Perhaps he had overused his skills. He wasn’t sure, but that was his best guess.
With a heavy sigh, he let his hands drop back to his sides. He didn’t have time to pick at his files just yet. If he didn’t have access to them at the moment, he would have to do without them. It was fine, the only memories he needed were the ones from the beginning of his previous turns and, as far as he could tell, those memories were perfectly intact.
By the time the dokkaebi Bihyung had made his appearance, Seo Jinhwan had regained his consciousness and the pain in his head had dulled to a tolerable headache. He didn’t bother to listen to what the young dokkaebi had to say, already having his little speech saved in his memories. So instead, his eyes swept across his carriage, his fingers twitching against his knees as he waited.
“So, all we have to do is kill a couple of deadweights?”
The menacingly dark voice of the unnamed man seated at the back of the carriage rumbled through the room. It was a voice, and a line, that Seo Jinhwan had grown accustomed to hearing at the start of each turn. Still, he couldn’t stop that sliver of hope that still wrapped protectively around his naïve, unfaltering heart.
“Well, if no one is going to do it, then I suppose I’ll have to take it into my own hands.”
And just like every turn, the man rose from his seat and started his slow pace down the centre of the subway. An eerie smirk lingered on his lips as he peered into the faces of those he passed, some shivering into their seats while others had also began eyeing those around them.
Seo Jinhwan kept his attention fixed on the man still making his own leisurely way in his direction, but his eyes began to roam around the carriage. More specifically, the flickering lights around the edges of the ceiling. It took him less than a minute to find what he’d been searching for.
“Hey, kid. Are you here all alone?”
The man had come to a stop in front of the young boy only a couple feet away from where Seo Jinhwan was now standing. A flash of silver gleamed in the flickering lights.
“You know, they say children are our future. Then, what do you think of dying to preserve—”
Seo Jinhwan’s fist collided into the side of the man’s face before he could even finish his sentence.
“You punk—!”
With the use of the holding bar as leverage, Seo Jinhwan landed a hard kick to the man’s chest, sending him colliding into the wall of the other side of the carriage. The man spluttered, the knife he’d had still clutched tightly in his hand. Around him, chaos had unleashed from the back of the carriage as others sprang into panic.
But Seo Jinhwan paid no heed to any of them.
All too slowly, a pair of coal black eyes rose to look up at the hacker.
He extended his closed fist to the young boy. Then, very gently, he reached forwards to take hold of one of his small hands. The moth that had been fluttering away inside of his closed fist was transferred to the child.
Lowering himself slightly, he placed his hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his snowy white hair. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked, the words quiet but not quite gentle.
The kid stared at him, dark eyes an empty void. As it would seem, the violence around him was not new and the hostility that had been shown to him was something he was accustomed with. And so, it was not because of any of the things happening that his coal eyes widened, but rather …
“Hyung, behind you,” the child warned.
Seo Jinhwan already knew. He dodged towards the side, letting the man swing and stumble when he inevitably struck at the air. As the man’s momentum continued to push him forwards, Seo Jinhwan latched onto his wrist, swinging him towards the opposite side of the young boy behind him. With a swift kick to the back of his knees, the man went tumbling towards the ground once more.
The man sneered at him, wiping blood from the side of his face. His knife gleamed in the blue-white light as he pointed up towards the hacker. “You damn punk,” he growled, rage sparking in his eyes. “Do you really think it’s worth it to save some random kid?”
But the man didn’t wait for Seo Jinhwan’s response.
Roaring, the man charged forwards, his knife little more than a blur of silver and grey. Seo Jinhwan did not dodge this time around, instead letting his opponent swing towards him as he focused on placing distance between the brute and the child. From the 1rst turn, he knew the consequences that would follow his dodge.
However, Seo Jinhwan wasn’t much of a fighter, and it was much too obvious in the earlier stages of each turn. So when his opponent had landed a glancing slice across his cheek, he found himself quickly overwhelmed. It happened much too quickly for him to react.
His hands had moved to latch onto his foe’s wrist to prevent the knife from cutting down into his neck, but he hadn’t expected the man’s other fist to come swinging into his gut.
In the 1st regression, he had nearly failed to save the child. He had dodged the man’s attack and as a result, the thug had gone flying into the front wall of the carriage. Before Seo Jinhwan could react, he’d then grabbed hold of the kid. Luckily, the hacker was able to prevent any serious injuries from happening, but it didn’t change the permanent wound on his right eye.
The 2nd regression had almost followed the same path. Seo Jinhwan had reflexively dodged the man’s attack, but then his memories and waves of guilt flashed before his eyes. Before the man’s lunge had completed, he moved back into the line of fire. That time, the child was unharmed, but he’d barely survived the scenario. And as a result, that man had nearly survived—taking the lives of several with him.
Even if all the people in this carriage were destined to die, the thought of them being murdered by a thug didn’t sit well with him. Because if all he had to offer them were a few more seconds to live, he would damn well give them it.
So from here, this fight would be happening for the first time.
Seo Jinhwan’s back hit the ground, his vision swimming slightly. The pain in his head flared in protest, as if there were memories threatening to forcibly break through the barrier between himself and the past.
[Personal skill, ‘Hard Drive’ Lv. 6, has failed to activate.]
[Continuous activation of ‘Hard Drive’ has caused the effects of damaged activation to increase.]
He wasn’t sure what had caused his skill to activate. Without a doubt, this fight had not occurred in either of his previous regressions; there were no memories for him to use. So then, why had the skill been activated?
Pain flared inside of his head, and he was only barely able to see the flash of silver swing down towards him.
Damn. There was no time for him to ponder such things.
“I’ll tell ya what,” the brute offered, his knife hovering dangerously close to the hacker’s face. A wide, toothy grin broke across his face as he pushed the blade closer. “You can just step aside and let me kill that kid, and then I’ll help you take down one of the others.”
It was a lie and Seo Jinhwan knew it. But even if it had been the truth, it was not an offer that he would consider.
Seo Jinhwan didn’t respond. His hold around his attacker’s forearm shifted into a proper hold and he shifted his body to his left as he pulled his attacker’s blade down where his head had once been. The sudden movement made the attacker stumble once more, his balance lost enough for the hacker to land an easy blow to his jaw. In one swift motion, he pushed himself to his feet as he swung his leg out to send the man crashing back down to the ground. Then, before his opponent could recover, he pulled the knife from the ground.
When he finally rose to his full height, the ringing in his head amplified. But this time, the pain was recognizable. It would seem that it hadn’t only been the failed activation of his head that was causing his headache.
“How about I make you an offer?” the hacker asked. He placed his foot on top of the man’s chest, pressing down firmly as he leaned low enough to point the knife half-hazardly at his face. The cut on his cheek and the bruise beginning to form beside it reflected in the grim lights. “Stop trying to kill this kid.”
There was no hint of fear on the other’s face as he stared up at Seo Jinhwan. “Oh, I see what your problem is,” he said with a humorless laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? This world is changing. You ain’t gonna save everyone. Especially some weak kid. I bet you can’t even kill me, so just give me back that knife so at least one of us can get out of here alive. I’ll even let you trade your life for the kid’s, hmm?”
He lunged upwards, but Seo Jinhwan pushed his foot harder onto his chest. Now, the knife was hovering inches over the man’s heart. There was no hesitation in the move, and nothing had changed in his bright, amber brown eyes.
“This world is changing,” he agreed. A mischievous half-smile that would soon come to be known as his signature grin spread across his lips. “And I’m going to make sure that there’s room for the world I want to see. Now, I’ll make it quick, even though you don’t deserve it.”
And then Seo Jinhwan plunged the knife into his heart.
[You have killed a living organism.]
[You have obtained 100 coins.]
[The ‘First Kill’ mission has been accomplished.]
[You will receive 100 coins as a bonus.]
With a sigh, he pulled the blade from the corpse.
Around him, the rest of the carriage was filled with chaos. There was screaming and yelling and sobbing and fighting. But of the people who had been willing to start fights, none had been able to finish the deed. Afterall, it wasn’t easy to cross that final step into the world of the apocalypse.
Rage. Despair. Desperation. Hopelessness. The emotions and thoughts were clear as a tainted day across the faces of each of the passengers. It was a scene that Seo Jinhwan would never grow accustomed to watching. And he hated, absolutely hated, that there was nothing that he could do to save a single one of them.
It didn’t matter to him that none of these people had been willing to help the child behind him. It didn’t matter to him that they were staring at him as if he were the devil himself. They were still human, they were still alive, and that was all that mattered to him.
But this was not a scenario he had found any escape from. There was nothing he could do for any of them. If that made him a monster in their eyes, then fine.
A gentle tug on his sleeve drew him from his daze.
“Thank you for saving me, ahjussi.”
The hacker turned to find the young boy standing beside him, his small hand gripping tightly on the edge of his black turtleneck.
[10 seconds remaining.]
Seo Jinhwan smiled down at him, moving slightly so he was blocking the child’s vision of the rest of the subway car. “Hey, are you really going to pretend you didn’t already call me ‘hyung’? You should be able to tell I’m not that old,” he teased. He placed his hand back on the top of his head, humming quietly as the kid wrapped his arms tightly around his waist.
[5 seconds remaining.]
The hacker glanced over his shoulder towards the back end of the subway. If people weren’t staring at him before, they most certainly were now. And the words within their eyes were blatantly clear as they cowered away into the far wall.
“That man killed someone and now he’s showing such kindness to a child?”
“What a psychopath.”
“How can anyone be so heartless?”
More and more and more, the whispers continued to build. Every pair of eyes were staring at him now, afraid that if they looked away, they would meet their own ends by his hands.
None of them understood. Quite frankly, none of them would ever be able to. Most importantly, however, none of them wanted to even try. But he really didn’t care. He was used to being seen as evil, he was used to being labelled as a monster. It wouldn’t change how he felt, it wouldn’t change who he was. It wouldn’t change what he wanted to achieve.
[3 seconds remaining.]
Without a word, Seo Jinhwan pressed his hands against both of the child’s ears.
[Your time has run out. Proceeding with checkout.]
[Main Scenario #1 PROVE YOUR VALUE has ended.]
[Number of survivors in Carriage 3407 of Train Number 3434 to Bulgwang: 2]
Gruesome sounds echoed behind him as the heads of everyone in the carriage were blown open. Seo Jinhwan didn’t dare flinch, keeping his hands firmly covering the young boy’s ears. Even when it was over and the sound of blood dripping from the walls had ceased, he didn’t move.
It was only when the 2nd message appeared in front of his face that he shifted, his amber eyes scanning the illuminated message.
[Survivors from the 3434 Train to Bulgwang, Carriage 3407: Seo Jinhwan and Kwon Minho. A total of 2 survivors.]
“Minho-ya,” he whispered. Gently, he placed his hands on either of the boy’s shoulders and knelt to look him in the eyes. “Let’s go together.”
Coal eyes stared blankly at him. Confusion, hesitation, doubt. But not a trace of fear.
“I will protect you.”
After a moment, the child slowly reached forwards and fixed the black beanie the hacker wore. His hands lingered on the bottom of the beanie, fidgeting with it. Seo Jinhwan smiled gently at him, eyes crinkling. When he moved his hands back to his sides, those empty eyes of his lingered a moment longer, not a single feature on his face changing. And then, as if the ice in his heart shattered, the boy nodded and wrapped his arms back around the hacker.
[A constellation is highly intrigued by your presence.]
[A constellation has sponsored you 400 coins.]
A frown pulled at Seo Jinhwan’s lips as he stared at the message. That was not something that happened in his previous regressions. Slowly, he rose to his feet once more, keeping Kwon Minho pulled close to his side.
Ding.
Right on cue, the faint chime of the new notification echoed throughout the carriage.
Sponsor Selection
- Select a constellation.
- The constellation you select will be your reliable sponsor.
- Dark Light of Guidance
- Defender of Lost Humanity
- Demon-like Judge of Fire
- Scroll of Destruction
- Abyssal Black Flame Dragon
- Rebel of Fate
- Secretive Plotter
The frown on his face grew, as did the headache that had just begun to fade. There were more constellations than there were in his past regressions. He recognized most of the modifiers, they were the same ones from each of his previous runs. Well, all of them except … Rebel of Fate and Secretive Plotter.
Who the hell were they?
Cringing, he lifted a hand to his temple. No, more importantly, why was his headache returning if his ‘Hard Drive’ skill wasn’t even activating? And why was that skill not activating properly in the first place? Could it possibly have something to do with one of those new constellations? But then …
[Personal skill, ‘Hard Drive’ Lv. 6, is unable to fully activate. Please refrain from using this skill until the database is online.]
That damn skill was really taking its time. The first scenario had already been completed, but he still hadn’t recovered his memories. If things didn’t start to improve, then he might find himself with even more of a disadvantage when that regressor turned up.
Oh, that was right—the regressor.
The frown on his face remained, but he managed to push his thoughts aside. As of right now, they weren’t necessary. He didn’t need all of his memories to be certain of his next move. For now, he had enough information to get him by, and soon enough, the rest would follow. Without hesitation, he pressed the ‘x’ button, dismissing each of the constellations.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ smiles at your actions.]
[200 coins have been sponsored.]
This damn guy …
“Are you patronizing me?” Seo Jinhwan muttered.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is amused by your boldness.]
[100 coins have been sponsored.]
“…”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed in slight suspicion. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t matter what the constellation’s reason was for giving him coins. But still, something didn’t quite sit right about it.
“Do whatever you want,” he mumbled, his eyes glaring out the window and towards the sky. “I won’t stop you, but you should know that I won’t thank you. And it won’t make me feel any more inclined to pick you as my supporting constellation.”
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ nods knowingly.]
This damn bastard. What was that supposed to mean? If he knew that Seo Jinhwan wouldn’t pick him as his supporting constellation, then why was he so adamant on helping him anyway? From how he was throwing out coins, he surely wouldn’t have an issue moving on to another incarnation.
Secretive Plotter.
Seo Jinhwan hated that he couldn’t remember who that constellation was. The name itself hardly revealed any information, but it was enough for him to be certain—he was someone powerful. Or, at least, someone intelligent enough to plot. And when it came to constellations, an intelligent one was surely not someone to take lightly.
There was also the other constellation he didn’t recognize. Rebel of Fate. There was something almost … familiar … about it, but he couldn’t quite place what. At least whoever the constellation was, they didn’t seem to be making any strange moves.
This wasn’t like him. Not only were his skills malfunctioning, but his hostility … he usually had far more patience when it came to dealing with bothersome constellations and incarnations alike. So then, what was it about that plotter that bothered him so much? He couldn’t quite place it.
He sighed, turning his attention back towards the child clinging onto his side. The limited amount of memories he could recall flashed before his eyes, and a fond yet sad smile pulled at his lips as he placed his hand on top of the young boy’s head. “Have you selected a constellation?” he asked. Although, it wasn’t a necessary question—he already knew the answer.
Kwon Minho’s brows were slightly creased, but he nodded his head.
[A constellation who is fond of snow is grinning.]
That was someone the hacker knew. Despite the constellation not revealing its modifier, Seo Jinhwan already knew exactly who it was. And he was honestly rather glad to have the friendly teenager watching over the child.
Guardian of Forgotten Joy.
Or rather, the young teen who had become the personification of ice and snow. An older brother who had lost his life protecting his sister. A boy who conquered death and was reincarnated and rose to become stronger than he had been before. A guardian who protected children and their dreams, and had adventures and joy dancing along his icy fingertips.
Jack Frost.
While the boy could be rather immature and somewhat clumsy, he always meant well. Seo Jinhwan couldn’t have hoped for a better supporting constellation for the young Kwon Minho.
[Personal skill, ‘Hard Drive’ Lv. 6, has recovered some memories.]
Like a deleted file being restored, memories fizzled back to life within his mind. Memories from the previous round—Kwon Minho’s eyes glowing a pale shade of blue as frost danced along his fingertips, the rare smile from the young child as his supporting constellation grinned and sent one encouraging message after another.
Seo Jinhwan smiled fondly.
“Then it’s time to go, Minho-ya. We have to start moving.”
*********
Yoo Joonghyuk had started the 3rd regression differently than he usually did. This time, he used an explosion to eliminate the people in his carriage. But he hadn’t expected that his actions would result in such dramatic consequences.
A man by the name of Kim Dokja was now being dragged along by the collar of his shirt, while Kim Namwoon was dead. On the other side of the yellow protective barrier indicating the safe zone a couple steps away, there were 3 others that the regressor didn’t recognize. And the hacker was late.
The last item of interest was something that wouldn’t have bothered the regressor if it weren’t for the other changes. And so, he’d cleared a path so that when that fool finally showed himself, it wouldn’t take him long to join the discussion. Or, that was the reason Yoo Joonghyuk had convinced himself of. For some reason, when he had been walking towards the ruined bridge, the thought of the hacker coming across the horde of undead didn’t sit quite well with him.
But even with his help, Seo Jinhwan was late.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrowed. Of all the damn regressions, had that reckless fool decided to loiter on the one time his presence could be beneficial? Well, it wasn’t as though he required his help anyway. He didn’t need to wait for him to make a decision on what to do with this self-proclaimed prophet.
Without warning, Yoo Joonghyuk came to a stop just short of the barrier signalling the area of safety. “If you are really a prophet, you’d be able to tell your own future, right?” he muttered, but the words were more of a threatening statement than a question.
He moved towards the edge of the bridge, his grip moving from the other’s collar to his throat. Nothing changed in his stoic features as he held the other man over the edge, the jaw of a lunging Ichthyosaurus steadily rising.
“Prophesy,” he said calmly. “Will I be letting go … or not?”
Panic flared within the other man as his eyes scrunched shut. Fragments of thoughts tore through his mind as he quickly sought to find an answer.
Then, after only a couple moments, his dark eyes shot open and a newfound blaze of determination burned within them. “Let me tell you a couple of things first,” he started. “First, I’m not your subordinate, so treat me as your equal. Second, just as I cooperate with you, you have to promise to cooperate with me.”
The brief flicker of surprise on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face vanished as he stared back at the strange man. “I see,” he murmured. “So, your answer?”
An arrogant grin crossed Kim Dokja’s face. “Just let go already and get lost, you bastard,” he replied.
Yoo Joonghyuk had his own grin on his face. “I believe you,” he said, the smile on his face growing. “You really are a prophet.”
Just as he began to plummet, the piercing sound of a low whistle cut through the air.
“Yeesh. That seems a little harsh, even for you, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
Kim Dokja’s eyes widened. He would recognize that pattern of informal speech anywhere, that character was—!
Before he could finish his thoughts, the ichthyosaurus swallowed him whole and darkness overcame him.
That bastard. He really couldn’t have waited a moment longer?
And just like that, the protagonist had prevented Kim Dokja from meeting the character he admired the most.
Chapter 4: Strange Regression (II)
Chapter Text
The bridge was new.
Seo Jinhwan wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see when he emerged far later than he usually did from his subway car, but it most certainly wasn’t this. Dozens upon dozens of undead corpses littered the tracks leading towards the broken edge of the bridge. It seemed that someone had passed by not too long ago and had taken out the summoned zombies.
Standing right beside him, Kwon Minho’s dark eyes scanned his surroundings, uncertainty and confusion sparking in his eyes.
“Zombie corpses,” Seo Jinhwan muttered. “Someone else must’ve come by early and triggered their summoning. They all seem to have been terminated, so it’ll be safe to cross.”
Despite his phrasing, the hacker knew exactly who was responsible for such a display of power. There really was only one answer, afterall. But even then, that golden bridge stretching across the empty gap wasn’t supposed to be there.
Deus Ex Machina.
A device which allowed constellations to intervene in a scenario. Someone’s sponsor had summoned this “Even Bridge.” But whose?
His eyes narrowed slightly as he made out a figure—or rather 2—at the end of the bridge. An amused grin took to his face as he instantly recognized that long black overcoat.
“Stay close, Minho-ya.”
The two of them were able to cross the bridge without a problem, which only made Seo Jinhwan all the more confused. Who had Yoo Joonghyuk brought across this bridge? Could it have been the person who had caused Deus Ex Machina to be activated?
Hardly any of his questions were answered when he reached the end of the bridge where the regressor was standing. With his back towards the hacker, Yoo Joonghyuk was standing by the end of the bridge, his arm extended as he dangled a smaller man by the neck over the edge. Down below, an ichthyosaurus was leaping upwards, its jaw wide open.
Alarm shot through the hacker, but before he could reach them, the regressor had released the one he’d been holding.
Bitter confusion swarmed within Seo Jinhwan’s head as he walked closer towards the edge. He came to a stop just a half step behind the other man, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black jeans as he rose to his toes and glanced over the other’s shoulder.
A low whistle echoed through the air.
“Yeesh,” the hacker drawled, watching with grave distaste as the figure of an unfamiliar man fell into the mouth of the creature down below. “That seems a little harsh, even for you, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced over his shoulder where the slightly shorter man with ash brown hair was now standing. His brows creased as a frown returned to his face. “You’re late, Seo Jinhwan,” he replied.
Seo Jinhwan lifted a brow, his head tilting slightly. “Timing me now, are you? I thought we were above such petty arguments.” His eyes remained fixed on the edge, as though he were half-expecting that the man who’d fallen would make another appearance. “By the way … who was that just now? I don’t remember him from the past regressions.”
The regressor turned away from the edge, that passive expression on his face returning. “He claims to be a prophet,” he replied vaguely.
Seo Jinhwan turned towards the young child still following a step behind him. He smiled gently, ushering him forwards. He then pointed towards the glimmering wall of yellow lights at the end of the bridge. “Meet me on the other side of that barrier over there, Minho-ya,” he told him, keeping his voice quiet so the regressor wouldn’t overhear and run off. “I have to ask Yoo Joonghyuk a couple things, okay?”
Although hesitant, Kwon Minho nodded his head.
Once the young boy was gone, Seo Jinhwan turned back towards Yoo Joonghyuk, the kindness of his smile melting away to reveal a vaguely amused grin. “I thought the only prophet was Anna Croft,” he commented.
“Mention that name again and you will join the proclaimed prophet.”
For a moment, he didn’t reply. He merely hummed quietly, peering over the edge as if he were considering his odds of survival. But then his eyes turned towards the area where Kwon Minho was now being gushed over by an unfamiliar woman with brown hair and the all-too-familiar Lee Hyunsung. Another young boy was also present, shyly talking as he kept close to the barrier. A frown pulled at the hacker’s lips when he noticed that the other white-haired member of their party was missing.
“Where’s Kim Namwoon?” he asked.
“Dead.”
He stiffened. “What did you say?”
The regressor’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. “You heard the first time,” he replied bluntly. Then, because he could recognize the confusion burning within the other’s eyes he added, “Don’t ask me anything more. Figure it out for yourself.”
And with that, he turned away to join the others on the other side of the protective wall.
Seo Jinhwan hadn’t been planning on asking the other anything else, but his irritation sparked anyway. And so did his headache. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be relying on Yoo Joonghyuk for answers, but for some reason, that damn skill of his still hadn’t properly activated, and the memories that he did have weren’t aligning with the current turn of events. Kim Namwoon was dead? There was another prophet? There were 3 other unfamiliar survivors? A sponsor had activated Ex Machina?
He held a hand to his forehead, massaging the tense skin as the pain in his head flared once again.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t fail to notice, turning away from the safe area and back towards the hacker. He, too, had a deep frown on his face. “Seo Jinhwan, did you hit your head?” he asked, though it was obvious the question didn’t come from concern.
Still, despite already knowing the true intentions of the regressor, Seo Jinhwan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“This regression is different,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied tensely. He stared at the hacker with a pair of quiet, contemplative eyes. There seemed to be many thoughts spiralling within his mind, and likely, a fair mix of anger. “I am curious if there is something different with you as well. You and the child seem to be in far better shape than in both the 1st and 2nd regressions.”
1rst and 2nd regression—that was right. This was the beginning of the 3rd regression. The thought eased the distraught in his mind, and the static-like haze surrounding him lessened.
Seo Jinhwan rolled his eyes, not allowing a morsel of his gratitude show on his face. “My headache has nothing to do with the changes of events,” he replied. A thought occurred to him and he couldn’t help but release a laugh. “Perhaps it’s simply an aftereffect of tagging along for the 3rd time already. Perhaps there’s a limit to how many times I can hack myself through your regression.”
“Pathetic.”
He let out another laugh, but there was a hint of bitterness underneath it. Teasingly, he said, “You could at least pretend that you’d miss me.”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t reply.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is disappointed in the incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’.]
The smile that had been on Seo Jinhwan’s face faltered slightly as he read the indirect message. Was the Secretive Plotter offended on his behalf? For some reason, that unsettling feeling began festering.
“Were there changes in your subway car?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, seeming to be making a blatant effort to ignore the constellation.
His brow arched slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound concerned,” he drawled, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “As you can see, I’m completely unharmed. So wouldn’t it be safe to say that this turn is already going better than usual?”
Yoo Joonghyuk was not happy with that answer. His glaring eyes lingered on the cut and bruise marking the other’s cheek. With an irritated sigh, he grumbled, “Then why are you still clutching your head?”
“I already told you,” the hacker answered, waving his hand in dismissal, “it has nothing to do with whatever you did to cause that guy to survive, so you can stop asking.”
Once again, Yoo Joonghyuk’s silence was enough for him to be aware that his answer hadn’t been enough. But even he didn’t have the answers that the regressor sought—not that he would ever dare to admit such a thing.
Nonchalantly, Seo Jinhwan slid his hands back into the pockets of his black jeans. That amused half-smile of his had returned as he lazily asked, “By the way, Yoo Joonghyuk, did you clear that horde of undead for Minho’s sake or mine?”
The regressor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the hacker. “Consider it payment for what you did in the last regression,” he quietly replied.
What he did in the last regression? Had he done something to benefit Yoo Joonghyuk?
Confusion settled across Seo Jinhwan’s face as he gave the memory a long thought. The look was gone in an instant, replaced by an expression nothing short of amused. He knew better than to give that damn regressor any reason to look down on him. But what had he done for that cold, unappreciative bastard to seem grateful?
Oh. Oh, right.
Like pieces of a puzzle, the memories clicked into place. He remembered now—the events that had happened at the end of his 2nd turn.
[Personal skill, ‘Hard Drive’ Lv. 6, is in the process of recovering past files. Database is connecting to the current regression.]
[Syncing files with the incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’.]
[Sync complete.]
[Files from previous regressions have been restored.]
[Welcome to the 3rd regression.]
The mere sight of those hazy purple notifications made Seo Jinhwan’s shoulders relax with relief. It felt as though the pressure that had been building inside of his mind had been alleviated and that wall separating him from his memories had been deleted. That was how each turn was supposed to start, he was finally able to recall. However … it still felt as though something was missing.
He smiled faintly, disguising the remnants of that unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slowly turning his attention back towards the still-glaring regressor.
“Wow, don’t get too sentimental,” the hacker teased, amber eyes twinkling. “It’s unlike you to be so appreciative.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him. “I am not thanking you. If you had only listened to what I’d told you, it would have all been avoidable. And either way, you failed and died.”
In the previous regression, Yoo Joonghyuk had been betrayed by the prophet Anna Croft. They had been companions in that turn—or at least, they had been until the events of the 46th scenario. It had ended with Anna Croft gaining the rights over his life and death, while he’d been left to live as her slave. That scenario cost him everything. He lost his wife, his child, his teacher. He lost everything, and he’d been unable to do a single thing about it. And then, he’d died.
Seo Jinhwan had died too.
It’d happened so quickly.
One moment, Seo Jinhwan had been flitting about in his pixelated form, and the next, he found himself standing between the child and wife of Yoo Joonghyuk, and swarms of demon-based creatures. He hadn’t had any former intention of joining the battle, and yet when he saw them in danger … he hadn’t hesitated to interfere. Needless to say, the hacker had inevitably faced his demise.
Seo Jinhwan shrugged aside the memory. It wasn’t like he’d done anything for Yoo Joonghyuk’s sake. “Well, considering we’re both here,” he drawled, an empty smile on his lips, “I believe it’d be safe to assume you failed too.”
“I know you were watching me from wherever you go in that pixelated form of yours,” the regressor remarked bitterly. He crossed his arms, an irritated expression resting on his cold features. “You’re hardly any better than the constellations.”
He laughed, a lazy grin plastered across his face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
The regressor had only been half right. For a majority of the time he’d been waiting, he’d kept his eyes on Yoo Joonghyuk—or rather, the woman who was controlling him. Her and the demon king whose curse led to the regressor’s stigma activating.
Seo Jinhwan never used his time in pixelated purgatory to be a temporary constellation. He found no joy or entertainment from watching the scenarios, nor the chaos instilled by them. If anything, it rather made him feel like he was being tormented. He despised having to see tragedies happen, and he absolutely despised not being able to do a damn thing about it. It made him feel helpless.
Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to think such a thing, it was a rather rare occasion that he’d be able to say he saved someone. But at least … he could say he tried.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes remained narrowed as he shot the hacker a distasteful glare, but he said nothing as he turned on his heels to walk away. The hollow, empty thuds of his combat boots were the only sounds in the silence. Rolling his eyes, Seo Jinhwan followed after him.
At last, the two of them passed through the barrier.
[You have completed the sub scenario.]
[You have received 200 coins.]
Only a heartbeat after they had emerged from the barrier, a small boy with bright white hair rushed towards the hacker’s side. Dark coal eyes held the tiniest glint of resentment as the young child cast a look towards the regressor standing at his guardian’s side.
“Hello, Minho-ya,” Seo Jinhwan greeted happily. He crouched slightly, ruffling the boy’s hair as he gave him a lopsided grin. Whether or not he noticed the judging stare from the man standing beside him, he didn’t react.
Kwon Minho didn’t give a response, instead staring quietly back as he reluctantly moved his gaze away from the uptight stranger.
“Is he your son?”
An unfamiliar yet gentle voice called out in his direction. It was that brown-haired woman he had noticed trying to talk to Kwon Minho. Her light hair reached below her shoulders, bangs covering her eyebrows. The expression on her face was one of genuine curiosity, her features soft and radiating warmth.
Seo Jinhwan hummed thoughtfully, his head tilting as he glanced down at the young boy. While the child said nothing, it was clear that he was anticipating his answer. Chuckling faintly, he rose back to his full height, his hands finding their place in his pockets.
“You could say that,” he replied.
Those words alone made the boy lean into his side, his expressionless face hiding the faint gleam of light in his dark eyes.
The woman’s smile remained. “Ah, well, adopted children are still your children,” she commented almost absently. Her kind eyes moved towards the cold face of the stoic man still standing beside the hacker, and the smile on her face returned. “It’s really lovely to see. You and your husband—”
“ No ,” both Yoo Joonghyuk and Seo Jinhwan interrupted instantaneously.
A look of horror and disgust flashed across Seo Jinhwan’s usually composed face, and he wrapped a protective arm around Kwon Minho’s shoulders before shuffling himself and the child away from the regressor. Meanwhile, Yoo Joonghyuk had his own complicated expression as he aggressively glared in the opposite direction.
[A constellation who likes snow is snickering loudly.]
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is disturbed.]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is looking at you curiously.]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is laughing quietly at your dramatic reaction.]
[300 coins have been sponsored.]
Nervous laughter broke the tension as a bashful look crossed the woman’s face. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have made such assumptions,” she said bashfully as she bowed her head.
Before anything more could be said, there was a gentle tug on the bottom of Seo Jinhwan’s shirt. His gaze flitted downwards to find a pair of sad eyes looking up at him. A boy who appeared to be roughly the same age as Kwon Minho was standing in front of him, his face slightly obscured by a mess of brown hair.
In a quiet voice, the child asked, “Do you know where Dokja hyung is?”
A frown of confusion formed on Seo Jinhwan’s lips. He gave the question a thought, but he couldn’t remember having heard that name in any of the previous turns. “Who is Dokja?” he asked.
“The one who fell off of the bridge,” Yoo Joonghyuk answered. While the edge in his voice expressed the grave irritation brewing within him, it was still obvious that he was attempting to avoid any eye contact with the lighter haired man.
The frown that’d been on Seo Jinhwan’s face fell, revealing a vaguely amused smirk. He made sure that the young boy who’d asked for ‘Dokja’ didn’t see his cruel grin as he turned to glance over at the regressor. “Fell, hmm,” he mused.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrowed.
“Kim Dokja-ssi?” a voice rasped in panic. “What happened to him? He fell off the bridge?”
He turned to find Lee Hyunsung staring at Yoo Joonghyuk with wide, puppy-like eyes. While on one hand it would never stop being strange seeing how soft the soldier could be, it was quite satisfying to see that loyalty shifted towards someone else.
“There was an accident with one of those creatures in the water,” Seo Jinhwan answered before the other could speak any harsh words. “He was fighting off a horde of undead and fell into the mouth of an ichthyosaurus.”
The moment the words left his mouth, confusion settled in his gut. Why was he bothering to defend that damn bastard? He shouldn’t have cared what the others made of Yoo Joonghyuk—he hadn’t been involved in what it was that idiot had done.
Horror and guilt flashed across Lee Hyunsung’s paled face. He frantically turned towards the shimmering yellow wall, his worried eyes filling with slight tears as he fought to try and peer through.
“He is probably still alive,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s cold voice said after a moment.
“What?” Lee Hyunsung’s soft reply came back quickly. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the wall to direct his attention towards the regressor.
Yoo Joonghyuk crossed his arms, a rather impatient look on his face. His infamous scowl had returned and he was tapping his finger against his forearm. “I am rather certain that your companion will survive,” he stated, as though the answer was obvious.
A smirk crossed Seo Jinhwan’s lips at the statement. He knew him far too well to pass it off as nothing. “It sounds to me that you believe in that guy quite a bit,” he commented smugly.
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded. “Well, he wishes to be seen as my equal. Then I am sure he should be able to survive a creature like that.” Pausing for a moment, he gave the hacker a hard stare. “After all, it’s a feat even you would be able to accomplish.”
“You’re too kind,” he muttered. He let out an exasperated breath, turning his attention away from the regressor to examine the group. The frown on his face was quickly replaced with a warm, charming smile. “In all the chaos, I nearly forgot to introduce myself. I hope we haven’t already gotten off on the wrong foot. Afterall, it’s a relief to come across such a friendly group of survivors. I’m Seo Jinhwan, and that grumpy bas—”
A hard grip on his shoulder made him immediately stop talking.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” the cold voice of the regressor interrupted.
The woman from before was the first to step forwards. Her hands clasped together in front of her as a polite smile pulled at her lips. “Yoo Sangah. It’s nice to meet you.”
Now standing beside the silent Kwon Minho, the brown haired boy took a small step forwards. “Lee Gilyoung.”
Lee Hyunsung inclined his head. “I am Lee Hyunsung.”
There was one last person who had been silently observing the conversation, however, he hadn’t bothered to step forwards even after Lee Hyunsung had made his own introduction. It was an older man with greying hair and rectangular-framed glasses. He studied the newcomers with suspicious eyes, but didn’t pay them any further attention.
Seo Jinhwan glanced towards Kwon Minho. “Have you already introduced yourself?” he asked gently. He studied the boy’s hollow eyes, trying to read the expressionless look on his face. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Kwon Minho toyed absently with the hem of the hacker’s shirt, considering his words. After a few moments of thought, he finally spoke up. “Kwon Minho,” he mumbled.
With a proud smile, Seo Jinhwan ruffled his hair. He then turned towards Lee Gilyoung who was watching the exchange with solemn eyes. That look alone told him enough, and he instantly understood what that Kim Dokja person meant to this kid. It was almost enough for him to turn and punch the regressor’s stupid mug—almost. But he had no intention of dying just yet.
“He’ll be okay,” Seo Jinhwan assured him. He lowered himself to his knee to be able to properly look the kid in the eyes. “I didn’t get to meet him properly, but I can already tell that he’s someone who is more than capable of taking care of himself. You’ll be reunited with him soon. I’ll make sure of it okay, kiddo?”
Lee Gilyoung sniffled slightly, but managed to give a weak nod.
The hacker gave him a reassuring smile, patting the child’s head. “In the meantime, you can focus on advancing your skills so that you’ll have something to show him when he returns,” he continued, the gentleness remaining in his voice. “How does that sound? Can you do it?”
This time, Lee Gilyoung’s nod was firm.
Seo Jinhwan smiled at his resolution. Satisfied that the child was no longer as down as he had been, he clapped his hand against his knee, effectively brushing off the dirt from his dark jeans as he stood back on his feet. He glanced towards Yoo Joonghyuk, only to find that he was already glaring at him. The smile on his face vanished.
Damn bastard. I haven’t done anything wrong yet.
How could he even look at him like that when he’d nearly killed this child’s guardian? If Seo Jinhwan had only been a little less cautious, he really would have punched that damned bastard. Or perhaps, if he’d been only a little better prepared.
Oh, that was right. By now, that hidden scenario should have begun.
He slid his hands into his pockets. “There is something that I must get before the next scenario begins,” he announced.
Yoo Joonghyuk frowned at him. “You aren’t coming to the subway?” he asked.
“Not with you, no,” he replied. A half-hearted grin pulled at his lips as he stared back at the regressor. “I have a few stops to make while you recruit your loyal student.”
Lee Jihye.
He had nothing against the teenager, but it never quite sat right with him how loyal she was to Yoo Joonghyuk. Not to mention that every time they met, she always had some insultive comments to throw his way. He supposed it was her way of showing affection to anyone besides her master—or perhaps she really didn’t like him afterall.
“You will never make it far if you are so adamant on looking down on everyone.”
Seo Jinhwan had to hold back the bitterness that curled inside of him at the words of the regressor. “That’s rather rich coming from you,” he snapped. His hands clenched into fists inside of his pockets, but he shook his head, feigning a smile as he turned towards Kwon Minho. “Minho-ya, would you like to come with me, or would you prefer to keep Lee Gilyoung company? I will only be away a couple hours. A day at the very most.”
Unease filled Kwon Minho’s eyes. He held on tighter to Seo Jinhwan’s shirt, but eventually loosened his grip. “Would it be easier for you if you were alone, hyung?” he asked. It didn’t matter what turn it was, or how long ago they’d met, this child seemed to always understand Seo Jinhwan’s plans.
He gave him a crooked smile. “My skill works better alone, if that’s what you mean,” he answered. Then, he shrugged. “It will take less time if I go alone, but if you want to come along, I can bring you with me.”
Kwon Minho looked over at Lee Gilyoung who seemed to be upset to hear that Seo Jinhwan would be leaving. Then, he let out a quiet sigh. “I will see you in a couple hours, hyung.”
In other words, the little boy was giving him a curfew.
The thought made Seo Jinhwan chuckle. “I’ll count the minutes,” he promised.
His eyes shifted towards the others in the group. Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung didn’t seem to have minded hearing those words, instead they both sported their own kind smiles as they stepped towards the kids protectively. A relieved sigh passed his lips at the sight, and he took a step forwards to thank them. However, just as he took that first step, Yoo Joonghyuk spoke up.
“Are you not going to ask me to watch over that child this time?” he quietly asked.
The question caught him off guard, but still, Seo Jinhwan merely shrugged. “You never agree anyway,” he replied coldly.
It was true. Throughout the previous regressions, Seo Jinhwan often asked Yoo Joonghyuk if he could watch over Kwon Minho whenever there was something dangerous he had to do. Whether or not he liked the other very much, that powerful bastard and his party were the safest option. However, Yoo Joonghyuk would always refuse to do so. Luckily, though, there was someone else in his party that accepted the request—Lee Seolhwa. And so, the regressor couldn’t argue.
“ … ”
Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing more, but there was something about his stare that seemed off.
That was enough for Seo Jinhwan to stop in his tracks. Was it just him, or did the regressor seem upset? Was he … actually offended that Seo Jinhwan hadn’t asked him for help this time?
Seo Jinhwan stared at Kwon Minho and the confusion in his mind slowly faded away. In the last regression, Yoo Joonghyuk had a child—one that he’d been unable to save. He supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised that Yoo Joonghyuk had grown an attachment towards Kwon Minho as a lingering result.
Holding back his sigh, Seo Jinhwan clapped his hand onto the regressor’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him for me, Yoo Joonghyuk,” he said.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, but stepped closer to Kwon Minho. The edge in his eyes had softened ever so slightly. However, when he turned towards the spot where the hacker was standing, his scowl returned. Perhaps he didn’t know the other’s plan, but from past experiences, it usually wasn’t something to look forward to.
“Don’t get in my way this time,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbled in warning. “I don’t have time to deal with two variants.”
Seo Jinhwan paused, thinking about those words. Slowly, a grin tugged at his lips. “You’re the one getting in my way,” he replied.
[Personal skill, Pixelation Lv. 6, has been activated.]
As fast as pixels of light darting across a screen, Seo Jinhwan vanished from sight.
Chapter 5: Strange Regression (III)
Chapter Text
The cave looked exactly like it did in the previous regressions.
Seo Jinhwan let out a sigh, his eyes flitting over the crevices of stone leading to the entrance. It didn’t take him very long to find this place. Well, it’d taken him longer than he’d expected to, but his pixelated form allowed him to travel at the speed of light. That was one of the reasons that he was grateful for Kwon Minho’s choice.
In the 1rst regression, he’d stumbled across this cave after the 9th scenario. At the moment, he’d been alone. Kwon Minho had been with Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon, the latter seemingly adamant on Kwon Minho having some form of relation to him as he tried to teach him how to wield a blade. He’d been able to complete the hidden scenario there within 10 minutes. In the 2nd regression, he’d stumbled across the very same cave while with the young boy. However, the cave hadn’t been nearly as friendly that time around.
Now, Seo Jinhwan wasn’t too sure what to expect.
He placed his hand against the rough stones beside the entrance, his head bowed. There was nothing exciting about it. In fact, it was shallow enough that the end of the cave could be seen from where he was standing. There were no separate tunnels or any significant items loitering its space. It was empty and the walls were bare. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was always like this. If he hadn’t known what he was looking for, he wouldn’t have bothered entering such a boring little cave. In fact, the entire hillside itself looked rather ordinary.
But he did know better.
There was nothing ordinary about this hillside, and there was nothing ordinary about that cave.
That cave was one that appeared in different places along this hillside. When the apocalypse started, something triggered it to appear. And this hillside … was protected land for the fallen soldiers who had once fought on this very land. This area was an unmarked grave for dozens of unnamed souls.
Seo Jinhwan removed his hand from the wall and stepped inside of the cave.
[You have entered a restricted area.]
He didn’t flinch at the message. Instead, he kept his eyes on the stone walls surrounding him. Right on cue, the wall behind him began to shake, and the entrance was soon covered. The light was instantly extinguished, and the cave went dark.
Fssh.
Soft at first, the faint sound of a single, tiny flame crackled through the empty space. Then, the sound stopped and suddenly 5 floating flames of white fire were glowing. Behind each of them, an endless tunnel awaited.
Who are you?
An airy whisper that sounded like many voices piled onto each other brought a light breeze dancing through the cave. It was followed by the fainter call of the echoed question from each of the 5 tunnels.
“I am Seo Jinhwan,” the hacker answered.
In answer, the white flames turned purple. Then, one by one, they each extinguished—all save for the one in front of the 2nd door from the right.
He took a steadying breath, then followed the path of that last remaining flame.
The end of the tunnel opened into a small room. In the centre of it, a podium of stone was raised, and a black and white chest was displayed on top of it. The chest was marked with swirls and scratches, almost like there were letters that were too messy to be read. A silver band went across its middle, but instead of a hole for a key, there were words:
WHO ARE YOU
Seo Jinhwan gently placed his hand over the question.
Click.
The chest opened, revealing the emptiness within it.
Wordlessly, the hacker drew the small blade from his pocket—the one he’d taken from the thug back in the subway train.
He peered inside of the chest, studying the designs and words intricately traced along its insides. There were blurry faces, drawings of angels and demons, and short phrases of dreams, ambitions, love, rage, and greed. They overlapped each other, making some harder to see. There were two words that stood out—one on the left side, the other on the right. Both of them glowed with a faint light.
HERO, the right side read.
VILLAIN, the left half read.
Wordlessly, Seo Jinhwan placed the dagger into the chest.
Instantly, it snapped shut.
The designs of the chest began to move. They continued to move about until they formed together to form the image of a young boy cowering in front of a muscular thug. The word ‘hero’ slowly began to appear. However, it soon changed to the image of a man lying dead while a crowd stared in horror. The word ‘hero’ slowly began to change to ‘villain.’ But then, the designs shifted once more, displaying someone embracing the child. The word villain was deleted, but the word hero didn’t reappear.
Suddenly, the images began changing faster and faster. There was the image of a computer, the image of a glitch, then the image of a family of 5. Faster and faster and faster. The souls of the fallen soldiers seemed to stir in the room, each of them watching with curious eyes.
But unlike them, Seo Jinhwan didn’t want to see what was being written on that chest.
And then the words stopped appearing and the chest opened.
When it opened again, the dagger had changed into something else. No longer was it the small, blood-tainted dagger that he’d stolen, but rather, a long, wicked-sharp silver sword. Now, the only visible words inside of the chest were the ones that had been where the lock should’ve— who are you.
Seo Jinhwan calmly reached inside and wrapped his hand around the hilt. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then …
Midnight darkness swirled around the hilt where his hand was. And then, the entire sword turned black.
[The condition of the Hidden Scenario has been completed.]
[You have received 600 coins.]
[You are the first to successfully craft the ‘Sword of Tainted Souls’.]
[You have received 1,000 coins.]
[You are the first to activate the ‘Sword of Tainted Souls.’]
[You have received 800 coins.]
[You have obtained a new fable.]
[Fable ‘■■ of the Story’ has been created.]
Seo Jinhwan froze. Then, he lifted a hand to rub his eyes. The words on the notification in front of him didn’t change. But … what did that mean? Why was it different from the previous regressions? He hadn’t done anything different. He had still killed that man in the subway carriage, he had still been unable to help the others, and this time, there had even been another person he’d been unable to help—that Kim Dokja person the regressor had thrown off the bridge.
He was still a monster, so why was it different?
‘■■ of the Story.’
No matter how many times he re-read the words, they remained the same. His eyes shifted down towards the sword in his hand. It was still pitch black, nothing had changed. Nothing had changed and yet …
‘■■ of the Story.’
Seo Jinhwan arced the sword through the air, listening to the familiar sound of wind rushing past the blade. The blade was still black, and yet a tiny flicker of light had still sparked in his eyes. Perhaps it was a glitch in the system, perhaps it was that same glitch that had intervened with his Hard Drive skill earlier, but still.
Nothing was set in stone. This round could be different, maybe it already was different. Afterall, there had already been many changes. Could that possibly be why that fable had been altered?
He glanced at the message one last time, a tiny flicker of hope burning inside of him.
Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be labelled as the ‘Villain of the Story.’
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is watching you.]
*********
A black mask was now covering the lower half of Seo Jinhwan’s face, a matching set of fingerless gloves on his hands. As well, he had a dark holster attached to a belt around his waist, his sword securely sheathed. All of his newly acquired tools—aside from his blade—were fairly low-rated miscellaneous items that he had purchased from the dokkaebi store before leaving the cave.
The moment he’d stepped out of the cave, he’d been surrounded by contaminated air. It was a sign of the next scenario—he’d taken longer with his hidden quest than he had expected. Under normal circumstances, the mask that he had wouldn’t be enough to filter the poison. However, he wasn’t standing there long enough for it to matter.
In his pixelated form, the hacker was racing towards the 4th exit of the Geumho underground station.
Sparks flew across his pixelated body, the wind and sky itself seeming to contort around him as he soared by. He’d made a couple of stops at the convenience stores that he could find, gathering whatever useful supplies and rations he could find. As a result, there were 4 plastic grocery bags in the pixels surrounding the space his hands would be.
While he was travelling, he’d kept his eyes open for any other survivors. Whether it was a relief or not, the area seemed to be deserted. Aside from the few signs of damage from looting, there was nothing that hinted at any people being somewhere within the ruins. He made some notes on whatever details he noticed.
Soon enough, the familiar sight of the unharmed exit came into sight. The hacker had no issues passing through the metal gate.
[Personal skill, ‘Pixelation’ Lv. 6, has been deactivated.]
There was a flash of bright purple and blue light, and then—
Yelps of fright erupted throughout the room as Seo Jinhwan pixelated back into his bodily form. He calmly removed the mask he was wearing before holding his arms out expectantly for his grocery bags to reappear along either of his forearms.
“Who the hell are you?”
The faint sounds of footsteps coming closer echoed against the tiled ground. A group of survivors were now approaching, having recovered from the fright of a man appearing out of thin air. Each of them held a makeshift weapon; some had bats, others were clutching lead pipes.
A calm look settled across his face as his lips curved into his signature smirk. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, dropping the bags he had on the ground beside him. But before he could say a single word, a cold voice interrupted.
“You’re late.”
Seo Jinhwan glanced behind the crowd. They shuffled over to either side of the room, making a clear path leading to the staircase that led down into the subway—and the tall figure of Yoo Joonghyuk walking towards him.
The hacker laughed, stooping to pick up the bags he had discarded. “I didn’t think you would miss me so much,” he replied, amusement dancing in his amber eyes. “And you even came to greet me? I’m flattered.”
Despite his bravado, his words weren’t entirely a lie. He did appreciate that Yoo Joonghyuk had come to the exit to meet him. He hadn’t done so in the previous regressions. For a matter of fact, he hadn’t been around very much at all in the 2nd round. Instead, he was off at the neighbouring station recruiting Lee Jihye. Could he be trying to be nicer this time around?
Yoo Joonghyuk came to a stop in front of Seo Jinhwan. He studied him silently for a moment, then, with a sigh, he took two of the bags that the hacker had been holding. “The child won’t stop asking about you,” he said calmly. He turned, his boots clicking against the floor as he walked away.
An amused chuckle passed breathily through Seo Jinhwan’s lips. He tucked his hands away into the pockets of his jeans, glancing around the room a final time. The armed crowd were still giving him irritated looks, but it was clear they were too intimidated by the man in front of him to do anything. But it wasn’t like they shouldn’t be wary of the hacker himself.
That arrogant, mischievous grin of his curved at his lips. Dark, almost twisted, intent danced in his eyes. He didn’t need to reach for his blade for the crowd to shrink away from him.
“How long have I been gone?” Seo Jinhwan asked.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t need to look to know that the hacker was now walking by his side. “2 hours exactly,” he replied.
The words made him hum quietly in thought. After a moment, a faint chuckle made his shoulders shake. “Does that mean you were waiting to greet me the moment I returned?” he quipped, amber eyes lifting towards the man beside him.
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed, but didn’t reply.
It was strange—the way the regressor was behaving in this regression. Perhaps it would be a bit of a stretch to say that he was being kind, but he most certainly wasn’t being as cold as he usually was. If this conversation had been happening in the last round, Yoo Joonghyuk would have certainly been more bothered. He wouldn’t have been so comfortable with the hacker walking right alongside him either. Had Seo Jinhwan been right to say that Yoo Joonghyuk was being nicer?
No. No, that wasn’t right.
Yoo Joonghyuk was not being kinder in this round, he was still the very same cold-hearted man that he always was. The only reason he was being more patient with Seo Jinhwan was because of the unintentional favour he’d done for him last time. He hadn’t changed, not one bit.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Seo Jinhwan started, his eyes now staring blankly ahead, “you’re rather certain that the prophet you were speaking to on the bridge isn’t dead, right?”
“He is probably still alive,” he replied.
“How are you so sure? And don’t give me the same reason as before.”
“If he wants to be called my companion, then it is something that he must do.” There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his eyes. “And if he fails, then he was not valuable enough to keep alive.”
That was the Yoo Joonghyuk that Seo Jinhwan knew. The one that saw everyone as expendable. The one that believed he was the only real person alive in this world. The one who didn’t care about anyone but himself. The one that had abandoned him in the 1rst regression.
The hacker’s hands clenched into trembling fists within his pockets. He already pitied the prophet.
“Why does he want to be your companion?” he scowled under his breath. He realized the hostility that he was showing and quickly brushed it off, the aloof yet humoured gleam returning to his eyes. “Nevermind that. Don’t you think it’s a little too much?”
Without hesitation he said, “No.”
The scowl that the hacker was hiding became harder to suppress. “You arrogant piece of—”
“Hyung,” a voice called out to him.
Seo Jinhwan bit down hard on his tongue. His gaze flitted across the station where he found the small group that he’d encountered earlier waving over at him. At the front of the group, the faces of both Kwon Minho and Lee Gilyoung were relieved to see him again. Both of them rushed forwards, Lee Gilyoung coming to a stop in front of him while Kwon Minho wedged himself in the gap between him and Yoo Joonghyuk.
Fondness swarmed within the hacker’s heart as he smiled back at the two children. He moved the grocery bag he had in his left hand to his right, giving Kwon Minho more space. “Minho-ya. I told you that I would return in a couple hours, didn’t I?” he teased.
Kwon Minho’s coal eyes darted over to his opposite side, staring warily over at the regressor. He looked back over at Seo Jinhwan, pressing himself closer into his side. “I don’t like him very much,” he whispered.
There was nothing but indifference on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face as he clearly heard the young boy’s words.
Still, Seo Jinhwan couldn’t help his chuckle. “Good,” he replied, fighting the urge to smirk. “I don’t like him very much either.”
That time, the regressor seemed to stiffen. But he said nothing, his dark eyes remaining blank.
Seo Jinhwan turned his attention towards Lee Gilyoung. The young boy seemed to just be watching their exchange with that look of muffled sadness, his face passive as he looked up at him. “How are you, Gilyoung-ah?” he asked gently.
“Have you heard anything about Dokja hyung?” he whispered instead.
“Not yet,” Seo Jinhwan replied. He stepped forwards, placing his bags down on the ground as he knelt in front of the young boy. Now at the level of his eyes, he placed his hand gently on the top of his head. Anger burned inside of him, but none of it reflected in the warm smile on his face. “He will be back soon, okay? For now, you get to spend some time with me. We can play some games, or I can try to help you with your skills. Whatever you want to do.”
[Several constellations are touched by your act of kindness.]
[400 coins have been sponsored.]
The hacker flinched slightly at the message, but kept his attention fixed on Lee Gilyoung. Rather slowly, the boy lifted his gaze to meet his. That sadness in his eyes remained, but a morsel of hope returned to his face. Lee Gilyoung nodded firmly.
“Hello there,” a new voice suddenly cut in. “Pleased to meet you. I’m assuming that you’re the cause of all that noise upstairs. What’s your name? I’m Cheon Inho.”
Seo Jinhwan glanced up to find a brown haired man with a black turtleneck standing behind Lee Gilyoung. His eyes were squeezed shut and an all-too fake smile was plastered across his suspicious face.
Yoo Joonghyuk stepped closer. “He is—”
“Seo Jinhwan,” the hacker said for himself. He rose up to his feet, a fake grin of his own on his lips. “And I come bearing gifts.”
The moment that Seo Jinhwan had uttered the word ‘gifts,’ the crowd had turned their attention towards him. Each of them had their own greedy looks on their faces, and that was why the hacker now had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He kept his deceptively charming smile on his face, but there was nothing but malice burning within his eyes. It was a warning.
Cheon Inho hadn’t needed to introduce himself for Seo Jinhwan to know who he was. He already knew from the previous regression, and from that look already on his face—he didn’t like him one bit. He didn’t like a majority of the people in this room.
Despite the banter he’d been having with Yoo Joonghyuk on the way down the steps, he hadn’t failed to take note of the condition everyone was in. It had only been a couple hours since this situation had begun, but the separation was already apparent—even though each and every person in this room was guilty of the same crime.
Still, he would give them a chance. Afterall, Seo Jinhwan couldn’t exclude himself from the long list of criminals. He couldn’t blame any of them for doing what they had to in order to survive. But that didn’t mean that what happened could ever be forgotten or justified.
However, before Seo Jinhwan could begin the little dramaticized monologue he’d used in the previous regression, Yoo Joonghyuk took a step forward once again. He placed himself between Cheon Inho and Seo Jinhwan, the former stiffening visibly.
“He will not be joining your group,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. There was no room for any discussion in his words. “Now leave us.”
From the look on Cheon Inho’s face, it was clear that he had much more to say. But he valued his life more, and so said nothing as he reluctantly walked away.
A frown formed on Seo Jinhwan’s face. What was that damned regressor trying to do?
Yoo Joonghyuk picked up the bags that Seo Jinhwan had put down, now having two in each of his hands. Then, he walked away towards the far wall where Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung were watching the exchange play out with wide eyes.
“To those who wish to have a share, you will have to address Seo Jinhwan himself,” Yoo Joonghyuk announced.
Seo Jinhwan stood there in pure shock for a long while. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to appreciate or loathe the actions of the other man. On one hand, it was the better and simpler way to achieve the same outcome that he intended to gain. On the other hand, he couldn’t understand why the regressor would bother to help him. Unless, of course, he hadn’t been doing it for him.
[Several constellations are pleased with the incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk.’]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is impressed by the interference of the incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk.]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is touched by incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’s’ display of companionship.]
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is rolling his eyes.]
[500 coins have been sponsored.]
“Hyung, shouldn’t we join them?”
The sound of Kwon Minho’s quiet voice pulled Seo Jinhwan out of his trance. He glanced down, noticing that both Kwon Minho and Lee Gilyoung were staring at him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that several other pairs of eyes were also watching him intently. One of which being a certain pair of cold eyes. A wave of embarrassment washed over him, and he pulled out the mask that he’d stowed away into his pocket.
“Come on,” he grumbled. He started walking over towards the wall, fumbling with the straps of his mask as he placed it back over his mouth and nose.
Kwon Minho and Lee Gilyoung remained behind for a moment, sharing an odd look. Then, they quickly took off to catch up to the flustered hacker.
Chapter 6: Leisure Time
Chapter Text
The next two days had gone by quickly.
Seo Jinhwan had spent the daytime striking casual conversations with the group and teaching the children how to use and understand the system. It was a leisure time that he wasn’t used to having, and he knew who he had to thank for it—not that he would.
Yoo Joonghyuk was in a strange mood. His aura was more intimidating than it usually was, and he was staying in the Guemho station longer than he should be. It was unquestionable that Lee Jihye would be somewhere in the neighbouring stations, and yet, here he was. He was doing all the things that Seo Jinhwan had done in the previous regression. It was concerning.
Throughout the day, individuals and small groups would approach them. Whether it was because of Seo Jinhwan’s sword or it was Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence, not many people had tried asking for food. Those who did were often mothers or fathers who had children they wanted to feed, and so were desperate enough to take the risk. Whenever they approached, the hacker would greet them with a welcoming smile, and the regressor would offer supplies before the other could even stand.
Cheon Inho was a bit of a problem. As far as Seo Jinhwan was concerned, the man had claimed that he would only be sending his own men, or those who were freely willing to, into the city to scavenge for food. At least, that was what Yoo Joonghyuk had assured him.
“Don’t concern yourself,” the regressor had grumbled the second time Seo Jinhwan had returned from an unproductive conversation with the leader of the major group. “It will be taken care of.”
The hacker hadn’t noticed many people missing from the station, so he’d begrudgingly set the issue aside. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t paying attention to those who were being addressed by Inho or his subordinates.
Kwon Minho and Lee Gilyoung seemed to have every intention of keeping him by their side. Whenever he went to go talk to the others, one or both of them would follow him. It was almost like they were worried he’d vanish if they didn’t stay close. Seo Jinhwan couldn’t help but feel bittersweet about that fact.
“What about you, hyung?” Kwon Minho asked. “Did you have any hobbies you enjoyed?”
Seo Jinhwan frowned at the question. He wasn’t used to being asked about his own life and, if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn’t something that he wanted to think about. To the others, it was only a couple days ago since they had lived their normal lives, but to him …
It was a lifetime ago. 3 lifetimes, actually. But even then, it felt like far longer.
“Music,” he answered quietly, having to really think to find anything memorable about his past. There was an absent look in his lively eyes as he stared at the ground. “I used to play the guitar. But that was a long, long time ago.”
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ appreciates that you are talking about your past.]
[The constellation ‘Almighty Sun’ appreciates your tastes.]
[200 coins have been sponsored.]
Suddenly, two small bodies were leaning against either of his shoulders.
“You should play a song for us sometime,” Kwon Minho said.
“We’ll find you a guitar,” Lee Gilyoung added.
Seo Jinhwan laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “As I said, that was a long time ago. I don’t think I remember how to play even a single chord.”
“Jinhwan-ssi, you’re being too modest,” Yoo Sangah jumped in, smiling gently. “Next time we can catch a break, we’ll make sure you play us a song.”
They were thinking naïvely, but that wasn’t something Seo Jinhwan could blame them for. It was good that they could still think that way, he wished that he could. After seeing the things that he saw, there was no room for such bliss. So he said nothing, praying that they would be able to hold onto their innocence for as long as they possibly could.
The conversation continued. Nobody addressed any of the concerns that they had, nor did they mention anything about the scenarios or the constellations. It stayed lighthearted, because deep down, they all knew that this moment wouldn’t last.
Lee Hyunsung didn’t wish to participate very much in any of the topics. He was happy to listen to what the others had to say, but he didn’t want to talk very much about himself. It didn’t take long for Seo Jinhwan to realize that it was because of the prophet the group had left behind, and so he had quietly placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder and respected his silence.
Kwon Minho, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. The typically silent boy had never been one for talking about his interests, but it seemed that his affinity towards Lee Gilyoung had made him come out of his shell. A subtle smile was on his face as he exchanged stories with the other young boy.
Lee Gilyoung’s own mood seemed to have lifted quite a bit. It was still obvious from the slight dullness in the boy’s eyes whenever a silence lingered for a beat too long, he missed the man that had been looking after him. So, it was good that he and Kwon Minho had each other.
Seo Jinhwan was observing the scene in silence, a tender smile on his lips. It was nice to see that Kwon Minho had someone he could talk to in this turn. But he couldn’t help the rising guilt that churned within him. He didn’t deserve this peaceful time. At this point, he was supposed to be off on his own. He was supposed to have already left Kwon Minho with Lee Hyunsung, Kim Namwoon, and Yoo Joonghyuk. However, he didn’t have the heart to abandon both Kwon Minho and Lee Gilyoung just yet.
His hands clenched into fists within his pockets, the back of his head leaning against the wall. For a moment, he let his eyes shut as he tilted his head up towards the ceiling. Lost in thought, he let the voices merge together.
“Jinhwan-ssi,” a gentle voice called out. “Are you alright?”
He opened his eyes. A second face that didn’t exist in the past was looking back at him.
From what he could gather from the woman, Yoo Sangah was very polite. Similar to Lee Hyunsung, she didn’t speak very much, but when she did, there was always something calming about her tone. Earlier she had revealed that she’d worked in the same company that the prophet had. It was a shame that she wasn’t present in the previous regressions, because Seo Jinhwan rather enjoyed her presence.
He gave her a reassuring smile, gesturing for her to go back to focusing on the children. His gaze shifted slightly, and he held back his sigh.
Yoo Joonghyuk was the same as he always was. He was leaning against the wall, his mouth glued shut as irritation bubbled over in his eyes. He hadn’t contributed a single word to their conversation, other than the occasional grumble about how the ordeal was unnecessary whenever someone tried to address him. And yet, he still hadn’t left.
By the time night fell on the station, and the group had drifted off into peaceful slumber, a peaceful yet eerie silence had taken over the chaotic chattering. However, neither Yoo Joonghyuk nor Seo Jinhwan had bothered to get even a wink of sleep.
Four purple panels glowed in front of the hacker, his amber eyes reflecting the endless scrolls of text. It was a part of his ‘Hard Drive’ skill—the ability to create and use however many screens he wanted to document or display the information that he saved onto his drive. He had many different things saved by now. Scenario descriptions, information on individuals, maps, whatever he had found important to note.
He was currently updating and creating profiles for the individuals he’d encountered in this regression. The four screens that were opened belonged to Kwon Minho, Lee Gilyoung, Yoo Sangah, and Lee Hyunsung. If it weren’t for the presence of the man standing beside him, there would be one more panel open.
Suddenly, the soft sound of a new notification rang in his ears.
[New unread messages in Midday Tryst.]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: It will be the 3rd day tomorrow.]
Seo Jinhwan glanced over at the regressor. He was still leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as he stared out at the crowd of sleeping people.
[Seo Jinhwan: What about it?]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: Are you going to come with me?]
The hacker frowned at the question.
[Seo Jinhwan: You sound clingy. Maybe those messages weren’t a glitch afterall.]
Midday Tryst. It was an item that allowed people to communicate discreetly, no matter the distance between them. It was also an item that, thanks to the Hard Drive skill that Seo Jinhwan (and arguably Yoo Joonghyuk) possessed, was able to be restored in each regression. Sometime during the first night, the two of them had realized there was something off about this item.
Instead of the brief messages that should exist from the 2nd and 1rst regressions, there were thousands upon thousands of redacted messages.
Seo Jinhwan had tried to scroll through them, but there were far too many. He’d lost track after he’d been searching through them for nearly an hour and had still not gained any more information. There was nothing to be understood, every word that had been sent was censored. Most of them looked something like:
[Yoo Joonghyuk: ■■■]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: ■■■■]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: ■■■]
[Seo Jinhwan: ■■■■■]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: ■■■■]
Back and forth, back and forth. The messages went on for miles. Some were longer than others, some had many messages from one side before there was any reply from the other (it was usually Yoo Joonghyuk who was the former), but whatever they were … not a single one of them could be read.
Yoo Joonghyuk claimed that he hadn’t had any memories of sending such messages, and Seo Jinhwan hadn’t been able to remember anything that could contradict that. So the regressor had claimed that it was the fault of Seo Jinhwan’s ability and was nothing more than a glitch. Seo Jinhwan agreed, but only because he himself couldn’t come to any better of a conclusion.
Ping.
[Yoo Joonghyuk: You were the one to seem so concerned for his sake.]
Seo Jinhwan’s brows lifted, the slight hint of relief causing his shoulders to relax. He glanced over at the figure of Lee Gilyoung sleeping soundly against his left thigh. So that was what they were doing. Well, it was about damn time.
He glanced over to his right where Kwon Minho was fast asleep against his side. Then, he let out a quiet sigh as he leaned his head back against the wall. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
[Seo Jinhwan: We’ll depart in the morning.]
*********
Seo Jinhwan wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
He had arrived at the clearing just outside of the designated area of the 2nd main scenario some time in the early morning alongside Yoo Joonghyuk. They had departed not too long before the party members had woken up, Seo Jinhwan having to gently shift the two sleeping boys carefully off him before he could leave.
Now, the sun had already set and the light breeze was beginning to grow chilly. The air in this area was not contaminated, having been located outside of the boundaries of the ongoing scenario. Under normal circumstances, neither he nor the regressor should have been able to step foot beyond that border, but his stigma had prevented the barrier from properly activating. Afterall, it was made of pixels—something he was more than adequate with manipulating.
Seo Jinhwan shivered slightly from the wind, but kept his eyes trained over at the river. He’d been unable to move his gaze for the duration of his stay. Honestly, he’d been waiting long enough that he didn’t want to go back to the station without having found any new information. If he did, he wasn’t too sure if he would be able to look Lee Gilyoung in the eyes.
It’d been hours since the regressor had left him on his own, and it was obvious that he wouldn’t be returning. He’d finally gone off to recruit Jihye, and so from now on, they likely wouldn’t cross paths again until they reached the cinema. Which meant that when the hacker returned to the station, he was going to have to be the one to explain why he was returning alone.
The sun was about to rise when Seo Jinhwan decided he had to move on. He’d been waiting for far too long now, and it wouldn’t be long before the group he had left behind woke up again. However, even then, there was no sign of any other survivor being in the area.
He let out a shaky breath, his brows creasing as he reluctantly turned away from the river. Yoo Joonghyuk had been right to say that it was a difficult feat to defeat an ichthyosaurus, but that hadn’t made the hacker believe in the strange man any less. It was possible, and that was all that he needed to hear. For his own sake, and for the sake of the young boy he’d left in the station.
But now it was beginning to seem like the only way to defeat that damned beast was to have the strength of that arrogant regressor.
[Personal skill, Pixelation Lv. 6, has been activated.]
Blue and purple pixels began to replace his skin as his skill activated. But just as the hacker was about to leave for good, the ever so faint sound of water splashing reached his ears. He froze instantly, listening carefully. The sound grew louder and soon enough, it was followed by the distinct sound of heavy breathing.
Cautious, his pixels turned invisible as he turned his attention back to the river behind him, and what he saw sent wave after crashing wave of relief down his pixelated spine.
That prophet had survived.
At the speed of light, Seo Jinhwan darted across the air above the water, only coming to a stop a short distance from where the dark-haired man was swimming towards the shore. Curiously, he remained in his invisible form, following along as the man began to wade through the shallow water. He studied him carefully for a moment, and instantly he understood something that the regressor hadn’t.
[Personal skill, Pixelation Lv.6, has been deactivated.]
With a flash of light, the hacker was sitting on the ledge of the concrete path that marked the edge of the river. He had one foot flat against the ground, his elbow resting against his knee as he used that side’s hand to prop up his chin.
The man in the river froze instantly, his dark eyes turning wide as he stared back at the hacker.
Seo Jinhwan smirked.
“Hello, prophet .”
Chapter 7: A Regressor's Dilemma
Chapter Text
A meteor shower was pouring down in the starry sky. It was a sight that anyone would admire, but not Yoo Joonghyuk—nor the man sitting casually on the ground a few paces behind him.
“It is starting.”
The meteor shower was the precursor to the beginning of the 3rd scenario. Now, Seoul would slowly be destroyed one by one according to the scenarios. It was the same devastatingly beautiful scene in each regression. And one he was quite familiar with watching on his own.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked up at the misty sky before bowing his head and looking at the Han River. The landscape around the Dongho Bridge was quite desolate, since the large group of ichthyosaurs had recently moved downstream. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the hacker who’d accompanied him was watching the very same scene. Except, his own eyes were dark with silent worry. It was a look that the regressor had come to recognize, but never personally know.
He looked away from the other man, returning his gaze towards the motionless river. “It was too much,” he reluctantly admitted.
It had already been 3 days since Kim Dokja entered the Han River, and the duo had been standing by the edge of the river for the past hour or so. It might’ve been too much to demand that he catch the ichthyosaurus at the first level.
“Indeed,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his eyes remaining fixed on the horizon, “it would be hard for me to catch an ichthyosaur in 3 days.”
In the very same moment the words left his mouth, he found that the hacker had moved from the spot he’d been sitting. Now, he was standing directly beside him, his hands tucked away into his pockets and an unreadable gleam in his eyes. “I told you so,” he replied rather coldly. “You were too harsh to someone whose potential neither of us have seen.”
For some reason, his tone didn’t sit quite well with the regressor. “But it would be impossible to take him if he couldn’t do this much,” he said, his voice a tight-edged quip. “If he couldn’t even do this much, it would only hinder me. A prophet isn’t a big deal.”
He closed his eyes with disappointment. It was alright, he would go on his own again. Without any companions.
The thought made his eyes open, and he glanced down at the hacker beside him. While his mask and beanie made it difficult to discern any of his features, he could still make out that passive expression on his face. And, more importantly, the bitterness and rage beneath it. He saw the soft movement of his hands from inside of his pockets, a tell of the man’s true thoughts.
I see, Yoo Joonghyuk thought to himself with bitter remorse.
He would be on his own again this turn too. He didn’t know why Seo Jinhwan cared so much about the prophet’s well-being, but it was obvious from the moment that the hacker had talked to Lee Gilyoung, that he would never forgive Yoo Joonghyuk if that prophet died. Which meant that if he had succeeded, then he wouldn’t have been alone. He would’ve had a prophet, and he would’ve had …
Yoo Joonghyuk looked away from the hacker before he could notice his lingering gaze.
It wasn’t a big deal. He had been alone all this time.
Yoo Joonghyuk turned around to leave, but found himself hesitating. The hacker hadn’t seemed to notice his movement, or if he had, he didn’t seem to care. That was already enough of an indication as to what answer awaited the regressor’s question, and yet still, he paused.
“Are you coming?” he asked the hacker, his voice barely louder than the wind.
Seo Jinhwan heard him clearly. His shaking hands remained in his pockets, as if he really thought it hid his rage. “I think I will stay awhile,” he calmly replied, not bothering to spare even a glance behind him.
Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing.
It wasn’t a big deal.
Seo Jinhwan had only been his companion in his 1rst regression. He hadn’t helped him in the 2nd. Instead, he’d had to depend on the help of the Catastrophe of Floods, the poison beauty Lee Seolhwa, and the rest of his party members. The hacker hadn’t helped him at all, and yet …
Seo Jinhwan had died saving his child and wife.
It was possible that the hacker had considered him an ally afterall. It was possible that the hacker had had other plans to consider at the beginning of the round, and that he had possibly been planning to return to his party later, but hadn’t because of what’d happened with Anna Croft. And that was why Yoo Joonghyuk had gone out of his way to try and re-recruit him.
Seo Jinhwan was like him; a regressor in all but the name. So, it was natural that his memories of the previous round would lead him to make different choices in each regression. Even if they weren’t allies in one turn, it didn’t mean they would never be. Afterall, ally or not, together they were still the only ones who knew the pain of living through multiple lives.
Or at least, that was the reason he had convinced himself of. Because, why else would he feel compelled to protect Seo Jinhwan?
He couldn’t explain the feeling, but ever since his 3rd regression had begun, he’d felt the need to look out for that foolish hacker. And for some reason, he’d found himself waiting for his return after he’d left to reclaim his old sword. Now, he found himself looking back over at him as he stood there, silently looking towards the empty sight of the Han River.
The regressor opened the messages from Midday Tryst, skimming over the hundreds—or rather hundreds of thousands—of censored texts.
Those messages were one of the many things that had gone wrong in this round. Well, perhaps it was a little much to say ‘wrong,’ but it was different. Very different, at that. The messages being transferred from Midday Tryst weren’t new, however …
Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t recall having received, much less sent, so many messages to the hacker.
His glaring eyes shut, and his head tilted back slightly. A crease had formed between his brows, the memories of the start of this strange, strange regression flashing through his mind.
3 days ago.
[An item has been recovered.]
Yoo Joonghyuk glared up at the notification.
It’d been bothering him for quite some time now. He couldn’t make sense of what it was intending to tell him, because there was nothing that had been recovered from his latest regression—not that there would’ve been very much he would’ve liked to have transferred anyway.
For a while, he’d been ignoring it, but now that he’d already eliminated the inhabitants of his carriage and completed the 1rst main scenario, he found that there was nothing better for him to do. He had even set the notification further aside as he kicked down the barrier between his carriage and the neighbouring one. However, there was no one there anymore, and instead, he even found himself staring at the corpse of Kim Namwoon.
The regressor was standing in the midst of the carriage, an almost permanent crease between his thick brows.
Attributes Window.
There was a flicker of blue and white light as a familiar screen fizzled to life in front of him.
Name: Yoo Joonghyuk
Age: 28
Supporting Constellation: ???
Stigma: [Regression Lv. 3]
Personal Attribute: The Regressor <3rd Round> (Mythical), Pro-Gamer (Rare)
Personal Skills:
[Eye of the Sage Lv.8], [Hard Drive Lv. 3], [Close Combat Lv.8], [Weapons Proficiency Lv.8], [Mental Barrier Lv.5], [Crowd Control Lv.5], [Reasoning Lv.5], [Lie Detection Lv.4] …
Yoo Joonghyuk frowned. For some reason, he found himself staring at the 2nd skill he had. It felt … almost foreign to see it there, but he couldn’t explain why. He remembered that it was something that he saw in each regression and yet here he was, staring at it longingly.
An irritated breath passed through his scowl and he turned his head away. Either way, it didn’t matter. He had more pressing matters to tend to.
His eyes scanned the corpse-littered carriage. Once again, he found himself searching the remains to confirm the deaths. Kim Namwoon had really been killed. As it seemed, however, Lee Hyunsung had survived. Afterall, it was most likely thanks to him that the door had been forced open.
A frown settled across his lips, a look of thoughtful concentration resting on his features. It seemed that there were a lot of issues that he would need to tend to. He had to make sure that this regression didn’t end up as the last one had.
Without wasting another moment, Yoo Joonghyuk walked through the broken doors of the subway. The harsh sound of his combat boots against the hard ground echoed through the open, empty space. The lapels of his overcoat waved in the wind as he set a brisk pace down towards the bridge.
There were plenty of things that greeted him. Some of them were familiar sights—such as the bridge already being destroyed. Perhaps it was a few minutes early, but still, it wasn’t much of a surprise. However, that swarm of zombies leading towards the broken edge of the bridge was new. Especially with how they seemed to be swarming towards something.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened. While those creatures were no problem for the regressor himself … He took a glance back at the train—more precisely, the carriage 3 down from his own. A heavy sigh escaped his scowl.
In one moment he was walking out from the train, and in the next, crackling sounds emanated from his every step as he tossed aside the demonic creatures like they weighed little more than pebbles. It took him only a matter of seconds before he came to the front of the pack, and instantly his steely gaze landed on an unfamiliar man wielding a small knife. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He closed the rest of this distance slowly, taking his time as he approached the other man. Then, he came to a stop a few feet away, the still bodies of dozens upon dozens of zombies strewn behind him. His cold gaze remained fixed on the stranger, uncaring of the scene around him.
“You,” Yoo Joonghyuk hissed, “who are you?”
The unfamiliar man stared at him for a moment, his eyes widened slightly as he stared back at the regressor. His gaze, however, wasn’t quite on the regressor himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk did not appreciate his silence.
“How the hell are you alive?” he demanded.
And then his hand was around the man’s neck, and he was holding him over the edge of the broken bridge.
The man struggled, feet dangling uselessly in the air as he clawed at the regressor’s hands.
“Name,” Yoo Joonghyuk demanded.
“What?”
“What is your name?”
There was a brief pause as the man considered the question. His eyes had narrowed slightly in displeasure, but if he had any complaints, he didn’t dare voice them. It was a smart choice. “Kim Dokja,” he answered plainly instead.
“A strange name,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied absently.
It was not a name that he recognized. He would have to ask Seo Jinhwan to confirm it—whenever that foolish hacker decided to make his appearance, that was.
“I’ve heard that a lot,” Kim Dokja mused.
The comment made Yoo Joonghyuk frown. For someone whose life was quite literally in the hands of someone else, he didn’t seem frightened in the slightest. In the same heartbeat after Kim Dokja had finished speaking, Yoo Joonghyuk’s fist collided with his stomach.
Kim Dokja let out a groan of pain, however it was obvious that the impact hadn’t been as harsh as it should’ve been.
“You have a solid body,” the regressor stated. There was a passive look on his face, displaying none of the slight surprise he felt. “Have you already mastered the use of coins?”
“It is the same with you—”
The sentence had hardly finished leaving the man’s lips before another punch to his stomach sent him into another fit of pained groans.
“Don’t waste your breath with unnecessary answers,” Yoo Joonghyuk said coldly. Nothing but indifference showed on his face, but waves of suspicion were coursing within him. “Only answer what I ask from now on. Understood?”
Kim Dokja did not answer.
“Your answer?” Yoo Joonghyuk pressed.
Reluctantly, the man replied. “ … I will.”
The answer wasn’t enough. Or rather the way that he answered wasn’t enough. It was as if this man had no fear, no respect.
“Use honorifics,” he demanded.
That look on the man’s face didn’t change. “What if I don’t want to?”
The regressor made to deliver another blow to the man’s stomach, but instead of hitting his mark, he found that his fist was caught by Kim Dokja’s hands. There was a slight smirk on the man’s face as he stared unflinchingly back at the regressor.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widened. It wasn’t much, but that boldness had taken him by surprise. There was only one other person who had the nerve to speak, much less act, in such a manner—and that was only the result of enduring an experience of regression.
“I’m sorry,” Kim Dokja said, however there was nothing in his tone or expression that showed he was even remotely apologetic, “but you are younger than me, Pro-Gamer Yoo Joonghyuk. Therefore, you should be the one using honorifics.”
Yoo Joonghyuk tried not to roll his eyes at the statement. If that were really the case even during the apocalypse, then Seo Jinhwan was seriously one disrespectful fool. He had come to gather that much about him by the end of the 1rst regression, and now it would be a waste of time to try and convince him to change his speech patterns.
Now that he thought about it though …
Kim Dokja reminded him of Seo Jinhwan. The muted smugness, the hint of a smirk, the blatant disregard for his own safety. Even that look Kim Dokja had reminded the regressor of Seo Jinhwan—eyes filled with a challenge to disguise how he was reading his every breath.
Irritation fueled in Yoo Joonghyuk’s blood. Where was that hacker anyway? Surely he would have an idea with what to do with this man. But then again, it wasn’t like he needed that guy’s help. He could find a solution on his own.
“How do you know me?” Yoo Joonghyuk forced himself to ask.
“I am an employee of a game company,” Kim Dokja responded with such calmness that Yoo Joonghyuk had only ever heard from the hacker. “You are famous. At one time, I was a fan of yours.”
“Fan,” Yoo Joonghyuk echoed. “I haven’t heard that in a long time.”
He pondered on the idea for a moment, the waves of his memories coursing through him. For a moment, he’d forgotten what his old life had been like. Before the scenarios, before the regressions. At one point, he’d lived a normal life. It was such a long time ago, but he supposed to the people in this worldline, it wasn’t the same case.
“I’ll forgive your impudence this time,” the regressor said, snapping out of his reverence. “But your situation hasn’t changed.”
Kim Dokja stared blankly at him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of how he was still being held over the edge of the bridge. “I can see that,” he drawled.
It was a sentence that Yoo Joonghyuk chose to ignore. “I have only one thing I want to ask,” he said.
“Ask.”
“How did you survive on the subway?”
There was a brief moment of hesitance before the man replied with, “Will you spare me if I answer?”
“I’ll see.”
Yoo Joonghyuk thought about the question. Despite himself, he wondered what choice the hacker would have made. Spare this stranger, or eliminate him? The answer was obvious. But Seo Jinhwan was still nowhere to be found, and there was a shortage of time. So then, this choice would be his own.
Only Lee Hyunsung and Kim Namwoom were supposed to have survived from Carriage 3807, yet Kim Namwoon died and others survived. How did this guy survive? Who the hell was he?
He had to find more information, and then, if he found any disturbing elements, he would kill him. It might not be the same conclusion the hacker would come to, but that foolish man was taking his time.
Kim Dokja had then given his story. He explained how an explosion from the car in front of his own had caused a boy with a net of insects to fall, and he’d used those insects to survive. While the story had been probable for a beginner to the apocalypse, the calmness had been what threw the regressor off. It was a calmness that, despite the terror he should have been feeling, remained as strong as the only other ‘regressor.’
And then the man had claimed to be a prophet. He knew the future that Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know, and had suggested they become companions to complete the scenarios. Considering what had happened in the previous scenario, having a trustworthy prophet on his side would be beyond beneficial, and yet …
Yoo Joonghyuk had dropped the prophet into the mouth of an awaiting ichthyosaur. If the man could survive then, and only then, he would consider calling him a companion.
It was at that moment that the man he’d been waiting for finally showed up.
A mocking whistle cut out above the sound of jaws snapping shut, followed by the faint sounds of footsteps before a presence was resting far too close for comfort into the regressor’s back.
“Yeesh,” a voice drawled amusedly. “That seems a little harsh, even for you, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t need to turn to know who was now hovering behind his shoulder.
[Personal skill, Eye of the Sage Lv.8, has been activated.]
Name: Seo Jinhwan
Age: 26
Supporting Constellation: None
(Several constellations are currently interested in this incarnation)
Attribute: Pro-Hacker (Rare)
Personal Skills: [Pixelation Lv.6], [Hard Drive Lv. 6], [Command C Lv.5], [Firewall Lv. 4], [Cryptography Lv.4], [Weapons Proficiency Lv.4], [Stealth Lv.5], [Recovery Lv.2], [Analysis Lv.4], [Lie Detection Lv.4], [Bluff Lv.4], [Charm Lv.4], [Interpreter Lv.7], [Musicality Lv.12] …
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced over the hacker’s skills. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was still something that he found himself doing. Afterall, he would only be able to access Seo Jinhwan’s attributes for a while longer. When that hacker’s ‘Firewall’ skill grew higher, it would become impossible for Yoo Joonghyuk to be able to view his profile.
Several unexplainable thoughts rushed to the surface as the regressor averted his attention from the other’s window to his face. Unlike in the previous regressions, the hacker appeared to be perfectly fine. In the past, he would always be stumbling his way forward, completely battered. It was the reason the regressor hadn’t taken much notice of him. This time, there were no visible wounds anywhere, save for the small cut and bruise on his cheek that were already beginning to heal.
Still, there were so many questions burning on the tip of the regressor’s tongue.
Where have you been? How was your fight? Are you injured?
However, none of these concerns slipped past his tight-lipped frown. Instead, the only words he spoke were a disinterested and rather dismissive drawl of, “You’re late, Seo Jinhwan.”
And yet, despite his uncaring words, Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze lingered on the hacker. He watched as that familiar, arrogant yet charming smirk curved at the corners of his soft lips, and those dark phoenix-shaped eyes crinkled into amused crescents. It was only because of what had happened in the past, or whatever else he could call that small voice whispering in the back of his mind, that he could spot the holes in his demeanour.
The last round had been a disaster. This time, he would change the outcome. This regression will surely be different—he would make sure of it.
Chapter 8: Idol
Chapter Text
<Character Summary>
Name: Seo Jinhwan
Age: 26
Supporting Constellation: None
(Several constellations are currently interested in this incarnation.)
Attribute: Pro-Hacker (Rare)
Personal Skills: [Pixelation Lv.6], [Hard Drive Lv. 6], [Command C Lv.5], [Weapons Proficiency Lv.4], [Recovery Lv.3], [Analysis Lv.4], [Lie Detection Lv.4] … list of skills have been abridged
Overall Stats: [Stamina Lv. 17], [Strength Lv. 14], [Agility Lv.18], [Mana Lv.20]
Summary: (Character evaluation is too lengthy and cannot be loaded.)
Kim Dokja couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked several times, rubbing his eyes with full conviction that when he opened them again he would be staring at words on a screen instead of flesh and bones. However, when his eyes opened, he was still met with the very same scene he’d looked away from.
When Yoo Joonghyuk had dropped him into the mouth of that ichthyosaur, he thought he was going to have to wait until the cinema scenarios before he met him and yet …
There he was.
The slight dip in his cheeks, the paleness of his skin. An arrogant smile, far too cruel to match the soft features of the man’s heart-shaped face. A simple black beanie that covered his fluffy, ash brown hair save for the fringe of his bangs that hung towards his narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes beneath carefully painted arched brows.
It was a face that was handsome enough to consider slapping Yoo Joonghyuk in the face. Or (in Kim Dokja’s opinion) actually slapping him several times in the face.
He was sitting near the edge of the path, right beside the river bank. One of his legs was crossed, the other planted on the ground as he leaned his elbow against it, his chin propped on his gloved hand. Unlike Yoo Joonghyuk, he wasn’t stuffed with muscles. If anything, he was built rather slim, similar to Kim Dokja’s own physique. It was somewhat difficult to make out just how frail he was beneath that loose turtleneck.
Sensing his rapt attention, one of the man’s delicate brows lifted, mischief twinkling in his amber eyes.
[The 4th Wall has nullified your emotional shock.]
Kim Dokja’s heart thumped loudly in his chest despite the help of the 4th Wall. Adrenaline was pumping in his blood, his palms growing warmer than comfortable. His tongue swiped hastily over his parted lips as he slowly processed the reality of the situation.
This was really happening. It was really him.
Seo Jinhwan.
Kim Dokja was being greeted by the Seo Jinhwan.
The same Seo Jinhwan he had hated for many of the chapters of the novel. The same Seo Jinhwan who sacrificed his own safety for hope of a better world. The same Seo Jinhwan who became his most cherished and admired character. And the same Seo Jinhwan who disappeared from the novel far before it ever reached its end.
He didn’t know what to say, he hardly remembered how to breathe. But then again, maybe that was a good thing. Even though he already knew that the hacker in front of him was innocent of the crime, Kim Dokja had half the mind to strangle him and demand just what had happened in the 999th regression.
Instead, he was frozen where he stood in the river, his heart hammering in his chest. If the water were any deeper, he was certain he would have drowned by now.
Seo Jinhwan calmly held his gaze, head tilting ever so slightly (it was a look Kim Dokja knew well—on text, that was). “Hello, prophet, ” the hacker drawled, that smirk of his curving his slightly pink-tinted lips.
Prophet.
That was right. By now, Yoo Joonghyuk had surely tarnished his name. He would’ve mentioned that he had been an uncooperative addition to their journey, and likely would be someone they had to look out for. Not that it was in Seo Jinhwan’s nature to listen to whatever the regressor had to say about anything.
Kim Dokja quickly clambered out of the water.
Seo Jinhwan stood up, walking closer to the edge and eyeing him as he hauled himself over. His fingers locked together behind his back as he leaned at the hip to watch him. A muted look of concern created a crease between his brows as he eventually stooped to help the other up onto the dry pavement.
There was nothing but an exhilarated grin on Kim Dokja’s face as he lay collapsed on his back, arms stretched out widely at either of his sides. His chest heaved for breath as he stared up at the sky, unbelieving of the events that were playing out. The look of concern on the hacker’s face was growing by the second.
“Hey,” Seo Jinhwan said cautiously, kneeling down beside the other’s head. Teasing mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Congratulations on beating that monster.”
Kim Dokja smiled at him. It was a tired yet proud smile. Then, for the sake of proving his skills, he started, “To deal with a grade 7 tier—”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” the hacker interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. Hidden by the downwards tilt of his head, a humoured smile broke out across his smugly smirking face. “In fact, I was talking about Yoo Joonghyuk. A cranky bastard, that man. Really, I haven’t the faintest clue how you managed to deal with him. But yes, congratulations on defeating an ichthyosaur as well. I knew you could do it.”
Kim Dokja choked. He was torn between laughing and crying, but settled for hiding his burning face behind his trembling hands. This felt like some sort of twisted joke. His favourite character was kneeling right there beside him—he had just cracked a joke and had even complimented his abilities.
This wasn’t good for his health. He was going to lose it.
[The 4th Wall has nullified your emotional shock.]
Like a slow trickle of water escaping a barrel through a hole, the adrenaline coursing through his blood began to thin. Rather reluctantly, he removed his hands from his face and took a careful glance at the man standing beside him. He took another deep breath, steadying his heart rate as he shifted one arm to let rest along his forehead while he dropped the other limply at his side.
“I’m Kim Dokja,” he said at last.
Seo Jinhwan nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve heard,” he replied. That quizzical expression on his face soon replaced his earnest concern. It was the expression that always disguised his worries and doubts. “Well, do you know who I am?”
Kim Dokja thought about it for a moment. Would it be best to tell him the truth, or would it be best to pretend that he hadn’t the faintest clue who the hacker was? This case was different than it was with Yoo Joonghyuk. He couldn’t claim to be a fan—even if Seo Jinhwan had been an infamous hacker.
During his time before the apocalypse, Seo Jinhwan had been an underground hacker. While there were some under that profession who helped companies program their security, he was the opposite. He was the kind who exploited those weak points. Not only that, but he was the best.
However, it wasn’t something that he’d ever been proud of. It was only something that … he had to do. And so it was not something that Kim Dokja would bring up.
Kim Dokja sighed. Still, even without that easy excuse, he found that he couldn’t lie.
“Yes,” he answered.
The hacker seemed to stiffen slightly, but it was quickly masked when he chuckled, a dark smirk curving his lips. His deep eyes crinkled with malicious intent. “But it’s not because of your ‘prophet’ abilities, is it?” he prompted, the words a harsh drawl.
Kim Dokja blinked.
Reading about the hacker’s façade and seeing it were two different things. He thought that the other characters were fools for believing that such a kind-hearted man could ever be anything remotely close to cruel or twistedly charming, but now that he was a witness to it …
The only reason he saw through those pixels of lies was because he’d already been a witness to the truth, and knew exactly what to look for in those hollow and sad amber eyes of his eyes.
But right now, that couldn’t be his biggest concern.
Why had Seo Jinhwan phrased the question like that? Had he already seen through his lies? But, how could that be possible? He hadn’t even met the hacker until now, and he was certain that the regressor had bought his story.
He opened his mouth.
Seo Jinhwan laughed, shaking his head. It was already the second time that he’d gone out of his way to spare Kim Dokja the effort of explaining. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said, all too calmly for a regressor witnessing an anomaly. “I had a run-in with a prophet in the past, so I would be able to recognize one when I see one. You are not a prophet. Not in the traditional sense, at least.”
The way he said those words were so casual, but from that look in his eyes, it was obvious that there was something far more complex haunting his thoughts. There always was.
Kim Dokja winced slightly in embarrassment. “Ah … What gave it away?”
The hacker lifted his brows, as if offended that he would even ask such a question. “You are on the brink of death,” he said blandly. Then, he shook his head, seeming to find that his answer wasn’t good enough. “Your eyes are too kind to be the eyes of a prophet.”
[The 4th Wall has nullified your emotional shock.]
Kim Dokja’s parted lips pressed together in a small smile.
Seo Jinhwan stared at him for a moment. His calculative eyes were silent, but even then it seemed like they were searching for an answer. All too slowly did the hacker avert his eyes, rising to his feet. “There is a child waiting for you at the station,” he commented, almost absently. “If you know how to use the dokkaebi shop, I would recommend—”
Wordlessly Kim Dokja pulled a green item from his pocket.
The hacker pursed his lips. “Ah, I see. Nevermind then,” he amended. He nodded, a respectful movement.
Kim Dokja rested there for a while.
If the hacker had any objections towards it, he didn’t express it. Instead, he silently angled himself away from Kim Dokja and proceeded to open his pixelated notepad. His gloved hand clasped his chin gently as he stared at his word-filled window in deep thought.
Kim Dokja let out a quiet breath, reluctantly moving his gaze. It was a wonder—seeing Seo Jinhwan in action. But he had his own problem solving to do.
Taking the silence and his recovery as an opportunity, he reopened Seo Jinhwan’s character summary. From what he had gathered on Yoo Joonghyuk, this was the 3rd regression. He couldn’t recall very much from the early rounds, and so he made note of which skills both characters had.
Seo Jinhwan’s overall skills were far better than average, although that was to be expected of the deuteragonist. They did nothing to rival that of Yoo Joonghyuk, but it was still impressive. His personal skills, on the other hand, weren’t anything too special.
‘Pixelation’ was the main skill the hacker possessed, but it wasn’t exactly an offensive, or even a powerful, asset. The only reason it seemed to be overpowered was because Seo Jinhwan knew exactly how to use it. But still, it had its weaknesses. Afterall, the skill couldn’t be activated if the hacker’s mind was unfocused or his incarnation body was weakened or wet. Electrification skills also served as deadly counters.
His second main skill, ‘Hard Drive,’ wasn’t an offensive skill either. In fact, it was the skill the hacker was currently using to take notes. Additionally, it served as the connecting bridge to Yoo Joonghyuk’s ‘Regression’ stigma.
‘Recovery’ and ‘Analysis’ were both rather useful. The latter allowed the hacker to make quick decisions based on information he was presented at a second’s notice, and was what he would often rely on when in battle or strategizing. On the other hand, his ‘Recovery’ skill was fairly low and so at this point, it could practically be considered as normal healing at an ever so slightly faster rate.
‘Command C’ and ‘Weapons Proficiency’ were probably the only offensive skills that the deuteragonist possessed. However, he didn’t often use the former skill as it was unreliable. There was a time limit for how long he could possess the skill he copied and he was only able to hold one at a time.
Kim Dokja let out a sigh. That was alright. It didn’t matter how strong Seo Jinhwan started a regression, he always grew at an exponential rate. And that wasn’t yet considering how the hacker didn’t need any fancy skills to perform well.
After he allowed himself a few more moments of rest, Kim Dokja deemed that he had regained a majority of his strength back and stood on his feet. He glanced at the hacker and found himself growing self-conscious of his tattered clothes. Half-heartedly, he dusted himself off—though it did nothing to improve his appearance.
Just before he tapped on the man’s shoulder to gain his attention, he froze. The hacker was smaller than he thought he would be. Well, he wasn’t that small compared to Kim Dokja himself, but still. He’d expected for him to be closer to Yoo Joonghyuk’s height, but in reality … Kim Dokja was about an inch or two taller.
Seeming to sense the attention on him, Seo Jinhwan waved his hand through the purple panel in front of him. It vanished and the hacker turned to face the man staring at him. He flashed a crooked grin, extending a gloved hand forwards. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Kim Dokja-ssi,” he greeted. That half-smile of his remained as he gave a lazy wink.
Kim Dokja smiled, gladly accepting his handshake. He pretended that he wasn’t surprised by the hacker’s choice of using honorifics. “The pleasure is mine, Jinhwan-ie.”
He pursed his lips, retracting his hand. “Jinhwan-ie, huh,” he mused. His eyes crinkled, hiding whether there was genuine amusement or false. “That’s a first.”
Immediately, Kim Dokja realized his mistake. It had almost felt like an instinct to address him that way. He supposed that years of admiration and grief had given a false sense of familiarity. “Ah, my bad,” he fumbled, lifting his hands in embarrassment. “I will—”
A quiet laugh cut him from his train of thoughts and he found himself staring at the deuteragonist once more. It was such an earnest sound, one that he sincerely doubted (and hoped) that the man would be able to fake.
Seo Jinhwan smiled. Or rather, the corners of his mouth lifted a little—the tell of subtle yet genuine joy. He bowed his head, hiding what must’ve been a hint of fluster. “I don’t mind it at all,” he said, the words spoken softer than anything else he’d said yet.
Ah, that was right.
Kim Dokja remembered the kind of person that Seo Jinhwan was. He was someone who had gone his entire existence without being seen—someone who had never had a proper companion. And he wouldn’t have one, not for a long, long time.
But even then, Seo Jinhwan only had that companion for a time that was far too short. He was someone who had always been alone.
So that was why the assuring smile on Kim Dokja’s face came so naturally. He placed his hand on the hacker’s shoulder, drawing his dark eyes towards him once more.
Kim Dokja understood that loneliness. He was also someone who had grown used to being alone. He was someone who used the darkness to hide just how abandoned he felt. So maybe, just maybe, Kim Dokja and Seo Jinhwan would be able to drive away the darkness they had surrounded themselves with.
“You don’t have to use formal honorifics with me,” Kim Dokja said.
Actually, he wasn’t even sure why Seo Jinhwan had used honorifics to begin with. He was the kind of person who avoided them, just like Yoo Joonghyuk—except it was for an entirely different reason.
Seo Jinhwan tilted his head, eyes turning curious as he studied the other man before him. Then, only after he found the answer he was looking for, did he nod. Each of his moves, while calculated, were slow—far slower than they should be. He seemed flustered, almost like he was torn between acting and simply being . Because his swagger still remained, but his eyes weren’t trying to hide.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied in a foreignly soft whisper, no longer using honorifics in his speech.
Kim Dokja lifted a brow, staring at him quietly.
“… Kim Dokja,” Seo Jinhwan added hesitantly.
Kim Dokja smiled. Then, he took another step closer to the hacker and once again extended his hand to the other. Maybe he was selfish for it, for using the lonely man’s weakness against him, but it was simply an opportunity that he couldn’t miss. And it wasn’t just for the sake of his survival.
“Let’s be companions, Jinhwan-ie,” Kim Dokja said.
The man blinked in shock, taking a small step backwards. His eyes had widened slightly, darting frantically over the other’s face. His reaction was that of a person who’d just been struck. Maybe it was like he’d just been struck. Afterall, the hacker knew how to respond to violence, but affection was something entirely new.
[Your understanding of the character ‘Seo Jinhwan’ has increased.]
[You already have a high understanding of this character.]
[Personal skill, Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Lv.2, has been activated.]
Seo Jinhwan’s hands trembled ever so slightly, searching for his pockets to hide them from view.
“Companion? No one has ever wanted to be my companion.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk only ever called me an ally. But even then, he hadn’t considered me as anything more than a pawn.”
“Is this man stable? Considering he survived that ichthyosaur, he already has Yoo Joonghyuk as a companion. He shouldn’t be needing to make any other allies, so then …”
Kim Dokja nearly laughed. This stupid starfish …
“Let’s be companions,” Kim Dokja said once again. He willed a neutral, almost impassive look to his features—all save for the faint gleam in his obsidian eyes. “Together we shall rattle the stars and rewrite every fable they try to weave.”
If the man had been alarmed before, he was certainly near distressed now. His eyes had widened drastically, the paleness of his cheeks becoming replaced by a tinge of red.
They were the words Yoo Joonghyuk had said to the hacker in the 999th regression. In the one, singular regression the two could truly be labelled as companions. It was the regression that Kim Dokja admired more than anything else. He’d always dreamed of having a friendship like theirs.
“This man … he’s truly something else.”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes were still blown wide. If he had been anticipating a certain outcome, this most certainly hadn’t been one that he had expected.
Kim Dokja smiled at that thought alone. Good. He wanted to make sure that this regression would not follow the tragedy of the others. And it would all start from what this dramatic starfish did next.
[You have become worn out due to excessive concentration in a weakened state.]
[Personal skill, Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, deactivated.]
It was a given that the skill had only been activated for a short amount of time. Kim Dokja was surprised it’d been activated in the first place. But that was alright, he wouldn’t need it—not at the moment, at least.
Seo Jinhwan took a step forward, his shocked face was steeling over into an ecstatic yet twisted smirk. His hands slid free from his pocket, that charming grin of his morphing into something almost sinister. Darkness settled over his features, hiding the true softness beginning to take life in his eyes.
“You must be truly desperate to call me a companion,” he drawled, his head angled slightly. He leisurely reached his hand up to shake Kim Dokja’s still extended hand.
Kim Dokja frowned, his lips parting to object.
Before so much as a word could be spoken, the hacker pulled the taller man forwards by their shared hold, leaned his face towards his ear and whispered, “Deal, Dokja-yah. ”
Then, he released him, brushing past his shoulder as he walked towards the site of the scenarios. “Let’s depart then, shall we? I can’t wait to see where this goes.”
The small figure of his lonely back vanished through the protective barrier that separated the main scenario from the rest of the city.
Kim Dokja released a disappointed sigh. Maybe he had been hoping for too much. Expecting that calloused hacker to open up to the first person who asked to be his companion was far too much of a difficult feat to demand, and yet …
This was something, at least. It was a start.
Because for a moment, just that brief moment, Seo Jinhwan had let his walls fall.
Kim Dokja knew that Seo Jinhwan had sensed the very moment he’d activated his ‘Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint.’ And he also knew that the lonely hacker had done nothing to prevent it.
*********
Seo Jinhwan was confused. That was the only word that could even begin to describe how the hacker was feeling. But even then, ‘confused’ didn’t even begin to amount to the truth.
From the very moment he had set eyes on the ‘prophet,’ he’d known that he was anything but a prophet. It was obvious. He’d met a prophet in his previous regression, and this new man was nothing like her.
For a start, the man had been thrown off the bridge by Yoo Joonghyuk. Not only that, but he’d seemed surprised to find that the hacker had been waiting for him. Nor did he seem aware that the regressor himself had been waiting for quite some time as well.
There was also that child and the other companions that the man had as well. Prophets wouldn’t waste their time anchoring themselves to such beings. Plus, Lee Hyunsung had been there as well. He was the only one from their group who was supposed to be there. Lee Hyungsung was not someone who would be able to cause the survival and death responsible for the creation of a whole new group of survivors, which meant the person to thank for it was this ‘prophet’ himself.
But if he was a prophet, then he would’ve been found in the previous regressions. Which meant that he was an anomaly—and a skilled one at that.
Then there were his eyes. His eyes that held a sort of wonder, awe, and genuine admiration. They were not the eyes of a prophet, not the eyes of a person who would surrender to fate and cast aside individual humanity for it.
He was someone who knew who the hacker was—and yet wasn’t repulsed.
So the conclusion was an obvious one; this man was not a prophet.
But there was one more thing that Seo Jinhwan simply couldn’t understand. The man’s face was blurred.
Seo Jinhwan had noticed it when the man clambered out of the water. At first, he’d thought it had to do with the water or perhaps the glitch that had been causing his skill to malfunction. However, as their interaction continued, he realized that the man’s censoring had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the man himself.
His initial instincts told him to be cautious around the man. He had the feeling that the man knew far more than he let on and that it would be dangerous if he allowed himself to get too close. That idea was quickly discarded.
Kim Dokja.
This man was truly something else.
He’d thought as much to himself, quite aware of the intrusion in his mind. The very moment the man had stepped foot into his thoughts, he’d felt it. It felt oddly similar to the feeling of someone hovering his shoulders as he read and created codes on his screen. To his own surprise, he didn’t try to escape that gaze—not that he even could.
“Let’s be companions. Together we shall rattle the stars and rewrite every fable they try to weave.”
The moment that Kim Dokja had spoken that simple phrase, waves of nostalgia and warmth had seeped through him. It was as if he’d heard it before, as if they were spoken by someone he was very, very fond of. But he couldn’t place where they were from, nor could he imagine who would possibly say such a thing to him.
Why were those words so familiar? What was this … longing … that burned inside of him?
Only when the skill Kim Dokja had been using to infiltrate his thoughts had been deactivated did Seo Jinhwan return to his senses. He snapped out of his revere, the mask he wore to hide himself from the world flitting over his face like secondary skin.
But despite that mask he hid behind, he was still clinging onto the hope that had awoken within him.
Companion, that man had offered. Not acquaintance, not ally, not teammate. Companion.
He’d done nothing to earn such a title, but still …
The word echoed like a mantra deep inside his soul, growing louder and louder with every step the hacker took towards the wall of pixels signalling his return to the scenarios.
Companion, companion, companion.
Yoo Joonghyuk really knew how to choose his pawns.
Chapter 9: To Be A Hypocrite (I)
Chapter Text
Seo Jinhwan was unfamiliar with having someone walk alongside him.
Of course, this wasn’t the first time the hacker had someone accompanying him in his journey. The silent, judgemental and heavy presence that was Yoo Joonghyuk; the reserved, quietly worried presence that was Kwon Minho; the loud, insultive and sharp-tongued presence that was Lee Jihye; the babbling, arrogant yet awkward presence that was Kim Namwoon; the friendly, clumsily protective presence that was Lee Hyunsung.
None of them compared to that of the man now walking beside him.
To begin with, the man was actually walking beside him. Not in front, not behind, but right there beside him. And this man, unlike his dear regressor, had social skills that were suitable for someone their age. Not only was he capable of giving detailed answers and energetic quips when prompted, he eagerly made attempts to hold a proper conversation.
It was … certainly a new change.
Beneath his mask, the hacker’s lips trembled slightly. To say the least, he was feeling antsy. He was growing attached to the way Kim Dokja laughed at his remarks; the giddiness in the man’s step, something akin to excitement and joy; the way he seemed to have no issue with conversing with the hacker as they walked alongside each other.
In the few minutes he’d spend with this anomaly, he had come to enjoy the presence of Kim Dokja. But it was something no regressor could ever dare to do. Especially someone like Seo Jinhwan. He couldn’t get attached; he couldn’t afford to.
He didn’t deserve to.
His fingers clenched and unclenched around his own purchase of ‘Ellain Monkey’s Lungs.’ The mask he wore was enough to filter most of the effects of the poisons running rampant through the air, but not fully. Depending on how long they stayed out here, he would have to replace it. Already, his head was beginning to feel lightheaded, but it was better to have the distraction. Better to be distracted than be fully aware of—
“H-help. Help … Help me … ”
Seo Jinhwan was snapped out of his daze.
Kim Dokja, a couple isles away, slipped into high alert as well. His attention on the groceries he’d half-heartedly been gathering had been averted, his head poking around one of the nearby shelves.
In the corner of the store, a trembling woman was lying helplessly on the ground. Her jacket was half-removed and there was a tear in her skirt. Dust and debris clung to the peaks of her skin which was left exposed to the toxins. Her skin was unhealthily pale, her deep brown eyes nearly void of life.
For a moment, Seo Jinhwan could only blink at her in surprise. This was yet another person he didn’t recognize. When he’d done his rounds, he was certain that he’d checked every building in the vicinity, and he hadn’t found any signs of other survivors. He didn’t recognize this woman from any of the groups in the subway either. Had he missed this part of the city?
His hands clenched tightly in his pockets, even as he forced himself to start moving towards her. Some scout he’d been, missing a survivor like this. More importantly, however, he felt a wave of fury burst within him as he took in the woman’s appearance.
Who the hell was responsible for this? He swore to himself that he would make them pay.
“Consider me impressed,” Seo Jinhwan drawled. Although, the cruelty and indifference in his tone failed to match the worry in his eyes. “Place this in your mouth. It will filter the poison.”
As if he had all the time in the world, he lowered himself into a kneel. The concern in his eyes had forcibly vanished, glints of vague intriguement now replacing it. Like he’d been searching to find something worth saving and had evidently found it, he slowly extended his gloved hand, revealing the softly glowing, green item in his palm.
She observed him with uncertainty, her eyes shifting from the trinket to his cold eyes. Then, with a trembling hand, she closed her hand around the item.
For a moment, he allowed himself a glimpse back at his newfound companion.
If he wanted to accomplish his goals, he’d have to move quicker. He would have to stop indulging himself with these moments of false peace. Just as Yoo Joonghyuk had his role to play, Seo Jinhwan had his own. And he’d long since accepted what that meant. It would be naïve to think otherwise. Naïve to hope otherwise.
But for some reason, it felt far more unnatural than it had in the past.
All too reluctantly, Seo Jinhwan forced the neutrality and indifference around him like a second skin, and everything else on his mind was successfully drowned. Then, he knelt on both knees and allowed the injured woman to climb onto his back. He made sure to keep a tight grip beneath her knees, leaning forwards slightly to ensure she wouldn’t fall.
He took a quick glance over his shoulder, frowning slightly to himself. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, the words quiet.
She seemed taken by surprise at his words. But soon she let her eyes shut and nodded her head.
A breath of relief passed his lips, but he caught himself. The following smirk and flash of amusement in his eyes came with practiced ease. He lifted his head, searching.
Now, standing rather stiffly by the door, Kim Dokja was staring back at him. There was something off about that look on his face. Whatever it was, it wasn’t that subtle glint of admiration that seemed to hide behind those dim stars in his dark eyes.
Good. That was how it was supposed to be—how it should always be.
Seo Jinhwan was not the kind of person who had companions. He was not the kind of person who would stand alongside his loved ones, nor was he the kind of person who would ever be able to look towards a future basked in light. He was not someone capable of dreaming for an ending where he was … not alone.
He had his own ending that he wanted— needed —to see.
And so he severed the lifeline that he’d unknowingly casted towards the foreign Kim Dokja. Even if it was a lifeline that Kim Dokja had no intention of letting go.
*********
The gate leading to Exit Four of the Geumho Station had long-since been closed by the time the trio arrived.
The sight made Seo Jinhwan frown. He adjusted the woman’s weight on his back, then with one smooth move of his hand, a pitch-black blade skidded through the sliver of space between the ground and the bottom of the metallic door, preventing it from shutting completely.
“Knock knock,” the hacker called out. Although his voice was light and teasing, the kick he aimed at the gate was anything but. His hold around the woman’s knees tightened, preventing the movement from causing her to fall. “Open the hell up, you bastards.”
“N-no!” an aggravated, yet frightened, voice yelled back in response. “You can’t come in here! Get lost!”
From behind his mask, the corner of his lips twitched. “I have an injured woman with me,” he replied, firmer this time.
“The place is already overcrowded! There’s no room for more people!”
Overcrowded? Seo Jinhwan couldn’t remember such a thing happening in the previous regressions. Nor did he recall the station being overly full when he’d been there last. However, the hacker didn’t waste a moment to respond.
“Interesting. But I don’t recall asking.”
And with that, he leaned down to wrap his hand firmly around the hilt of his sword. With a harsh tug, he yanked it upwards until he could wedge the tip of his platformed boot into the gap. Then, he gave it a strong kick upwards.
Kim Dokja caught the bottom of the gate when it reached hip-level, prying it high enough for Seo Jinhwan and the woman he was carrying to slip inside. With them both inside, he followed them and let the gate fall with a loud clunk.
“OVER THERE! That’s him!”
Voices and loud footsteps ricocheted off the walls, and suddenly there was a bright light shining in their direction.
“ YOU! ”
Amber eyes cut through the air. Soon enough his gaze landed on the gruff face of a tall man standing at the forefront of the forming crowd, and—oh. He dimly recognized him as someone who had been part of the patrol group back when he had first arrived in the station.
“Ah,” he drawled, stuffing his hands lazily into his pockets. “Are you lowlives still stuck on patrol?”
The man held his ground, sneering. “What are you doing back here?”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes curved into crescents, a dry chuckle tumbling past his lips. “Aw, you remember me,” he cooed. That lopsided grin of his mimicked the mischief brewing in his eyes. “And here I thought I hadn’t made a lasting impression.”
The man gave a bitter smile. “Even if we weren’t at maximum capacity, we wouldn’t let you in,” he replied calmly. He spread out a hand, glancing back at the group behind him. “In fact, we have strict orders to keep you out. Not that I wouldn’t come to the same decision.”
Seo Jinhwan cast a glance behind him. The woman was sitting with her back slumped against the wall, Kim Dokja standing at her side and a blank yet vaguely irritated look in his eyes. He returned his attention back towards the group, letting the smile on his face drop completely.
“Are you sure you’d be able to fulfill that order?” he asked.
He gave a wry chuckle in response. “Unfortunately for you, your bodyguard isn’t around anymore.”
The hacker’s eyes narrowed. “Yoo Joonghyuk is not my bodyguard,” he spat. Just the sound of such an accusation left a bitter taste on his tongue. He reached his hand across his body to rest on the hilt of his sword, the slow hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you see, I’m a kind, understanding soul. If you wanted a display of my power, all you had to do was ask.”
Before he could draw his sword from its sheath, a hand was resting on his shoulder. And, try as he might to resist the urge, Seo Jinhwan looked at him.
Mirroring the hacker’s intensity, Kim Dokja held his gaze. He let his hand fall from the other’s shoulder, inclining his head towards the group gathered in front. “Let me handle them,” he said. There was a hint of darkness to the smile on his downturned face. “They’re not worth your time.”
Seo Jinhwan weighed his words. Then, his lips parted to object, but the man had already ushered him backwards with a firm sweep of his arm. His eyes shut and he felt his muscles tense, but nonetheless, he hid his thoughts behind an amused laugh.
“Be my guest,” the hacker drawled.
“Who the hell are you?” the man at the forefront of the group asked, finally addressing Kim Dokja. In response, the rest of the men turned towards him as well. It was as if they were just now noticing the man’s presence.
For a moment, he seemed struck with hesitance. It faded quickly when a heartbeat later he answered, “Kim Dokja.”
“Kim Dokja?” the man echoed with distaste. “Is that your name?”
“Yes.”
Seo Jinhwan frowned. That manner of speech—or rather, the lack of speech and subtle, but firm, arrogance. Was he … trying to speak like Yoo Joonghyuk?
He wasn’t sure why Kim Dokja would resort to such a tactic, but he did know—
“I wasn’t asking for your name!” The man burst into a fit of rage. Veins had begun to pop out in both his forehead and his neck, and his eyes had taken to an angry twitch. “Who the fuck are you?!”
Seo Jinhwan held back his sigh. It was just as he’d expected. He wasn’t sure why Kim Dokja would resort to such a tactic, but he did know that, without the ridiculously overwhelming strength of that regressor, it was a surefire way of aggravating the opponent.
The flashlight shifted from the two men then. From behind him, one of the other gathered thugs had taken notice of the woman. “L-look!” he rasped. “Isn’t she …?”
The man in the centre followed the flashlight’s glow, his brows pinching together. “It’s that woman from the minor group,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. He turned towards the one with the flashlight. “Wasn’t she supposed to have come back with you guys?”
The one with the flashlight turned bashful. “Well, about that …,” he stammered.
“… Ha, so it was like that. How cute.” Snickering, he shook his head. “Why would you do that without my permission?”
The other man’s unease grew into a tense, toothy smile. He chuckled anxiously. “Heh, I’m sorry, Cheolsoo-nim.”
Cheolsoo?
The hacker pondered the name for a while.
Ah, that was right, he did know someone by that name. He would have to check his files for the details, but this man was Bang Cheolsoo of the Cheoldoo Gang. He was someone who lacked both physical and mental strength, but had managed to gain the support of a smaller constellation. In the grand scheme of things, that fact didn’t really matter since his sponsor was the kind of constellation that didn’t care about their incarnation.
The man’s most obvious flaw was his tendency to overestimate his capabilities.
But wait a minute, Bang Cheolsoo was meant to have been killed by Yoo Joonghyuk. How could he have forgotten? Was it because of him that this man’s life had been spared? Had Yoo Joonghyuk expected Seo Jinhwan to eliminate him? So then, was it his fault that—
Wait another minute, did those thugs just admit to …?
The hacker’s eyes went wide with realization, and he turned his head to look at the woman he’d been carrying, his hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword.
“Hey,” Bang Cheolsoo addressed them with a prompt nod. “Hand that woman over to us.”
A sound akin to a crackling flame broke out over the man’s speaking. Eyes blazing with nothing short of deranged, untamable fury, Seo Jinhwan took a step forward. He brought a gloved hand towards his throat, making a slicing motion with his thumb. “Over my dead—”
Suddenly, there was a firm hold around his wrist, and the hacker was yanked backwards. His anger stuttered into confusion, the embers flickering in his eyes.
Kim Dokja lifted his chin, held his stare. His hold grew tighter in warning.
To their benefit, Bang Cheolsoo made the decision to ignore them. The only sign of acknowledgement came from his amused huff and slight smirk. It dropped quickly, however, when his attention caught on something else.
“Huh? What is that?”
Then, like a cue, the flashlight shone on the convenience store bags left by the gate.
“It looks like food, Cheolsoo-nim!”
Once again, the man smirked. “Leave that as well,” he said with a nod towards the bags. “Then you can live.”
Seo Jinhwan’s lips parted, but he refrained from speaking. His eyes scanned over the rowdy crowd of men, then the smug man in the middle, then the injured woman who had lost consciousness somewhere in the midst of the exchange, then the bags of supplies, and then at last he looked at the strangely calm man he’d come to accept as his companion.
What was it about him that made him so curious? It hadn’t been very long since he’d known him, but already he found himself unable to look away. He couldn’t stop anticipating his next move. It was uncommon for him to sit back and allow others to put themselves in danger, but … He wanted to see what he would do, he wanted to see what he would say, what he would think. Perhaps he wanted to believe that there was someone else that could do some of the things he could.
Someone that wanted to. Someone that believed in the same kind of world that he was working to create. Someone that saw the same things he did.
He wanted to know.
He needed to know.
And that was why when Seo Jinhwan brought his attention back to Kim Dokja, he bowed his head. The hold around his wrist was released.
The thugs focused their gaze on the prophet, and it was with that movement that the flow began to turn bad.
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is angered by the appearance of grunts.]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is furious about the injustice.]
[A bounty hunter scenario has been generated at the request of the constellations.]
Ah, now he was beginning to understand the situation.
Despite his mask, Seo Jinhwan chewed on his lip to keep from smirking. Beside him, Kim Dokja’s face remained neutral as he brandished the thorn he’d kept at his side.
The movement didn’t fall blind on blind eyes.
“So,” Bang Cheolsoo said, “you decided to ignore my advice?” He knocked his fists against each other, brass knuckles clanking with a pitched echo. “You prick. I’ll teach you not to mess with us.” Casually sweeping back his hair, he flashed a cocky grin. “I’ll give you to the count of three. Leave now, or you and your sidekick are dead meat.”
To be exact, it wasn’t good for those guys.
Well then, in that case, it didn’t make much of a difference that the man was still alive. It could easily be remedied. For a matter of fact, it was going to be remedied this very instance. It was all starting to make sense.
“Hey,” Seo Jinhwan called out. He did not hide the smirk on his face this time, instead letting his malice shine in the slits of his eyes. “It’s you who should leave if you wish to live.”
He now understood why Kim Dokja had insisted on handling them. He even understood why he would choose to impersonate that lousy regressor. A surge of pride swelled in his chest. Yes, Yoo Joonghyuk had quite interesting tastes.
[Bounty Scenario - Remove the Interference]
+
Category: Sub
Difficulty: F
Clear Conditions: The constellations feel great anger at the disruptors who are obstructing your rapid movements. Neutralize them within the time limit.
Time Limit: 5 minutes
Compensation: ???
Failure: ???
+
Chapter 10: To Be A Hypocrite (II)
Chapter Text
It was something that Seo Jinhwan had once pondered.
Back when he had the time, back when he had the naïvety, he found himself questioning the dystopian trope of abandoned morality. Why was it that so many people would fall victim to such predictable, cliché acts of villainy?
Once upon a time, Seo Jinhwan had thought for it to be limits of the human imagination, or perhaps the mistrust of the human race, that one believed such acts of crime would come as something almost natural. But by now, he had long-since found his answer.
“It looks like he won’t give it,” Bang Cheolsoo muttered. If he was meant to sound annoyed, it was clouded by his amusement. It was obvious he was more than glad to have the opportunity to resort to violence. “Go ahead and kill him.”
Still, seeing it never failed to stoke the ember of disappointment he kept buried deep, deep, deep within himself.
Instinctually, his hand moved to rest on the hilt of his blade.
The men rushed forwards, scavenged weapons swinging wide as they charged. Their leader didn’t take even one step forward.
It was people like him that the hacker was really getting sick of.
Seo Jinhwan caught himself before he could take a step forward. He’d nearly forgotten that he wasn’t the one that was handling the situation.
His finger twitched as he slowly retracted his hand. He hadn’t meant to reach for his weapon—he hadn’t even realized that he’d moved—but of course it wasn’t so easy to erase lifetimes worth of habits. It was always his job to protect everyone else, to step up when no one else would.
But Kim Dokja was not everyone else.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ expects a fair judgement.]
Seo Jinhwan let his hand fall limp at his side.
For a moment, a wave of uncertainty flooded through him, but just as quickly as it came, it vanished, and what was left behind instead was a rush of excitement, tinged by awe.
Kim Dokja truly was an intelligent man.
One of the men swung his iron pipe towards Kim Dokja.
It didn’t connect, the trajectory inconsistent for someone attempting to maim.
“If—if you don’t run away then you really will die! Get lost!”
By then, the group had already surrounded the prophet. Four of the five men were calm, stone eyes unflinching as they stared down their opponent. Greed, arrogance, and pride burned beneath their gaze. It was the reassurance of their numbers that gave them a sense of security. However, there was one who was trembling. It was the man who had spoken. Although Seo Jinhwan didn’t know him by name, he was sure this was the only one of them who was thinking.
He had purposefully avoided attacking with vigor. In fact, he had no intent on killing Kim Dokja—or perhaps, any intent on injuring him at all. This man was nothing more than a shadow, a sheep following its shepherd. They all were. But, at least, this one still had its eyes open.
When another attack didn’t follow, Bang Cheolsoo gave a loud tsk.
“What are these brats doing?” he grumbled to himself.
Immediately, another of the four men attacked.
With a shout, he rushed forwards, makeshift weapon raised high.
But it was no use.
A piercing wail ricocheted along the walls of the station as Kim Dokja’s thorn pierced straight through the attacker’s thigh.
“ Aaack! My leg! My leg!”
There was a chorus of surprised gasps that quickly shifted into angered scowls and the rest of the group rushed in together. However, even with the simultaneous attacks, the outcome had already been decided.
“You bastard!”
“Hit him together!”
Their inexperience was their downfall.
It was something Seo Jinhwan already knew—the members of this gang were not very intimidating to anyone with even a small amount of experience. He’d encountered them before, in the previous regressions, but they hardly caused any substantial trouble. And, most importantly, they lacked any sense of harmony. But, then again, the one who had handled them had been Yoo Joonghyuk, and hardly anyone was much trouble for someone like him.
Still, it was because of this that the hacker chose not to observe the tendencies of the gang members and instead focused on the self-proclaimed prophet. There was something about him—the way he moved, his demeanour, the clarity in his eyes, the lack of fear—that was a sight to behold.
From the very start, it was a one-sided battle, but watching it was another thing entirely. The man wasn’t like Yoo Joonghyuk in the slightest. There were no advanced, technical movements or explosive displays of power. There was no sign of an overwhelming difference in strength. It was something else entirely.
A blue-purple glint gleamed behind the hacker’s amber eyes.
[Personal skill, Screenshot Lv.1, has been activated.]
[Recording has begun.]
This was something that he would return to. It was still the beginning of the scenarios, and this man was not, as he so-claimed, a prophet. Why then was he so sure of himself? Why was there no hesitance? Why was he doing everything right ?
Or perhaps the better question was, why was he doing nothing wrong?
Did he possess the skills of a prophet after all?
The men had their thighs pierced in quick succession. Kim Dokja’s movements had been fluid, each strike connected to the last. Even as he made the decision to endure the oncoming attacks of his opponents, he didn’t appear to be afraid. Or even injured, at that. And soon, his opponents were all on their knees, wailing with high-pitched cries of pain.
None of them, the hacker noted, had been killed.
[Constellations of the absolute good system nod at the judgement of the incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’.]
[A few constellations laugh at the display of humanity.]
Display of humanity?
The hacker turned the word over on his tongue. He wasn’t so sure that he would call it that. Even more so, he didn’t think that the constellations would be singing the same tune if he were the one in combat. But there was something else that this more importantly showed—Kim Dokja was an undeniable genius. Whether he was some kind of prophet or not.
It was the wise decision. It would be best in the long run to avoid raising the threshold of stimulation too quickly, otherwise the constellations would lose interest far too quickly. If the constellations lost interest, then that would not be good for anyone. And it was always a good thing to have the constellations of the absolute good system on your side. Their judgement meant more than those that lusted after violence. But this was not an obvious choice to consider. For most, it would not be a choice to consider at all.
To be honest, Seo Jinhwan might have made the mistake of taking it too far. After all, the key word of the bounty scenario was ‘neutralize.’ The condition specified that the opponents were to be neutralized —not killed.
Seo Jinhwan’s jaw clenched. Just who the hell was this guy?
[There are three minutes to the end of this scenario.]
“W-what the hell is this bastard? Why won’t he die?”
From the back, Bang Cheolsoo was finally deciding to participate.
“You are a fairly tough guy,” he said, taking a step forward. He glanced in the direction of his followers, nodding once to the side. “Everyone back off. I will deal with him.”
“Cheolsoo-nim!” one of the men cried. “This guy seems to have a strong sponsor!”
“Good,” he replied. “It looks like he has a lot of coins.”
With a smirk, he slammed his knuckles against each other. Black metal gleamed in the dim light. Judging from the weapons the rest of the group members had, this one was special, and it must’ve been a gift from his sponsor.
[The incarnation ‘Bang Cheolsoo’ has used threaten.]
[Threaten doesn’t work because the overall capabilities gap is too big.]
Seo Jinhwan’s brows lifted. Well, it wasn’t very surprising given the situation, but it was something that was worth noting.
“Hoh, aren’t you quite good? You aren’t getting scared at all.” His eyes took a dark gleam as he took a glance over Kim Dokja’s shoulder. “Unlike your companion over there.”
His fist moved before he finished talking, but Kim Dokja was quick to step back.
Before Seo Jinhwan could even react to the comment, a change in movement caught his attention.
There was a slight pause that had followed the attacks. Kim Dokja’s eyes had strayed slightly, looking at something just above the other man’s head. His eyes were steady, focused.
Like he was reading something.
The glow behind the hacker’s eyes brightened as he zoned in on Kim Dokja’s line of vision.
[Personal skill, Cryptography Lv. 4, has been activated.]
A hazy, purple and blue screen was illuminated above Bang Cheolsoo’s head.
[Character Profile]
Name: Bang Cheolsoo
Age: 34
Supporting Constellation: Monarch of the Small Fries
Attribute: Assault Force Captain (General)
Personal Skills: [Dogfight Lv.2], [Bluff Lv.2]
Stigma: [Threaten Lv.1]
Overall Stats: [Stamina Lv.6], [Strength Lv.7], [Agility Lv.6], [Mana Lv.2]
General Evaluation: A common small fry who was lucky to obtain a sponsor. He has a tendency to overstate his abilities compared to his actual combat strength.
Seo Jinhwan blinked.
Kim Dokja could see this?
“Bang Cheolsoo of the Cheoldoo Group.”
The prophet was calm as he spoke. He was no longer looking at the text box above the other’s head, but instead staring right into the other’s trembling eyes.
“What,” Bang Cheolsoo mumbled, “you know me?”
Seo Jinhwan fixed his attention on the prophet as well. Yes, he was curious about this answer too.
Viewing other’s attribute windows wasn’t the kind of skill to glance over. It was something that bastard regressor was able to do, and it was only through peeking through his activation that Seo Jinhwan was able to see it as well. Perhaps if he focused enough he could view it himself, but it wasn’t a skill he’d yet acquired.
Kim Dokja didn’t speak. Instead, he remained quiet, that distant look returning to his eyes. He was deep in thought—about what, though, the hacker wasn’t sure.
“Ohu,” Bang Cheolsoo laughed. “Perhaps you are of ‘that’ category? You must’ve killed people. Isn’t that right? Yes, I feel that we are somewhat alike.”
[The incarnation ‘Bang Cheolsoo’ has used Bluff.]
It was a skill that anyone who was any form of criminal possessed—Seo Jinhwan included. It was a reliable debuff that could weaken the opponent’s attack power. However, that didn’t seem to be the case here.
Kim Dokja remained unaffected.
[The confidence of the incarnation ‘Bang Cheolsoo’ is rapidly falling.]
“Are you ignoring me? You really want to die!”
At this point, it was anxiety beginning to kick in. He was quickly realizing that he’d chosen the wrong opponent.
The next thing he knew, Kim Dokja had Bang Cheolsoo pinned to the wall by a thorn piercing his hand. The agility difference between the two was so high that it was rare for any of Bang Cheolsoo’s attacks to hit, and even if they did, they didn’t seem to leave any damage. As it would seem, there really was no comparison in all of their skills. With each powerful strike Kim Dokja launched his way, the self-righteous gang leader let out a painful wail. There was no hesitance, no remorse, in any one of his blows. It was little more than full-on assault.
[The constellation ‘Monarch of the Small Fries’ has requested an extension of the sub scenario time.]
[The sub scenario is extended by one minute.]
Disgust tugged the hacker’s lips into a scowl. That was right, this was one of those constellations that leeched onto the greed of whatever mildly interesting, low-level thug that could be found. This sponsor didn’t care one bit what happened to their incarnation.
But it was difficult for him to feel pity.
If the circumstances had been any different, Seo Jinhwan would have taken it upon himself to inflict damage on that sick bastard. And, if that were the case, then there would be nothing stopping him from the atrocities he would commit.
Maybe it was hypocritical for the hacker to look down on such a person. After all, Seo Jinhwan was no man of virtue. He had killed people, he had sacrificed people, he had tortured and betrayed and abandoned people. And he would have to do so time and time again in the future.
He was not innocent—he would not pretend to be, would not even attempt to. After all, this was simply the way the world was, even before the apocalypse had ever begun. The corrupt always won over the pure.
Still, there were always limits.
Seo Jinhwan steadied his breaths. That was right—there were always limits. Boundaries that even a criminal hacker like himself would not cross. No matter how cruel, how malicious, the world found him to be, he would not surrender his soul. There were things he had to accomplish, a world he wished to see. He would not settle for anything less.
He would see it through until the end, no matter if he had to walk the path of a hypocrite.
Soon the cries of terror and distraught were too much to ignore and he was forced to draw his attention back to the scene at play. It was not the act of violence that caught the hacker off guard. No, of course not. The bastard deserved it. Instead, what caught his attention were the wounds that Kim Dokja had chosen to inflict. He glanced back at the unconscious woman to confirm it.
Kim Dokja was targeting the same parts she had been injured.
Blood and flesh were scattered, painting the station with an unforgettable amount of gore. Broken teeth fell to the floor like coins, and broken bones twisted abnormally through ripped patches of cloth and skin alike.
However, Kim Dokja did not stop kicking.
Seo Jinhwan did not fault him for it.
Eventually, the wave of assault came to an end.
“Why did you do it?” he heard Kim Dokja ask.
Bang Cheolsoo shook his head. There was a mix of disbelief, indignation, and a hint of terror brewing in his eyes.
There would be no answer to that question. It was sad, Seo Jinhwan thought, the way human nature worked. People used violence and fear to control other people, while other people used violence and fear to control them. It was a never ending cycle, a double-edged blade, a gold-clad cage.
Most people are too blind, too plagued by the seduction of the present, to ever even try to escape.
“Fuck,” the man rasped. The word tumbled like a shard of glass past his bleeding lips. “Just kill me you son of a bitch.”
It was just as he expected. Men like that, they were a slave to the system they so desperately craved to please. It was something the Star Stream exploited.
The hacker’s attention slid towards his companion, curious.
Nothing had changed in Kim Dokja’s passive expression. However, there seemed to be some level of understanding behind those deep, thoughtful eyes of his. He didn’t ask his question again—he didn’t need to. The look in that man’s eyes told him more than enough.
In a trembling, faint voice, Bang Cheolsoo started, “… dog … this dog-like world …”
For a brief moment, Seo Jinhwan felt pity for the man. After all, this man was a human who had been despairing long before the world had been destroyed. Long before the scenarios had ever started, this world had always been one of predator and prey, weak and strong. There was always a winner, there was always a loser. But in the end, everyone was just a victim.
[There are 10 seconds left until the end of the sub scenario.]
Still, there would come a day where everyone must atone for their sins.
Kim Dokja’s resolve settled and he gave one final kick to the man’s neck.
With pitiless eyes, Seo Jinhwan watched as Bang Cheolsoo finally fainted.
[Personal skill, Screenshot Lv.1, has been deactivated.]
“H-how cruel …”
Like helpless dogs crawling to their master, the other men dragged themselves to Kim Dokja’s feet. With trembling eyes, they looked at their fallen leader, no longer anything more than discarded rag, and then up at Kim Dokja himself.
The self-proclaimed prophet said nothing to them, watching them all with eyes as lifeless as the man lying limp before him. That coldness to him didn’t fade as he turned to face the hacker.
Seo Jinhwan met his gaze, then nodded his head.
Even though his steely look didn’t change, Kim Dokja’s shoulders relaxed—if only by a little. He walked past him, going to pick up the unconscious woman and the convenience store bags beside her.
Seo Jinhwan observed the scene in front of him. He glanced behind him, at the fearless, resourceful, and dangerously intelligent man that was quickly becoming his most valuable asset.
Then, he looked at the still-bleeding thug. His eyes went cold.
The hacker found himself approaching the unconscious Bang Cheolsoo. Once he reached him, he came to a crouch and picked the man up by his blood-soaked hair. Then, staring into his dishevelled face, he removed his mask to reveal his own.
“It is my fault you suffer now,” Seo Jinhwan said. The corner of his lips curled in a sneer and gripped the man’s hair tighter. “I should have killed you long before.”
Like he was holding trash, he released his hold. Bang Cheolsoo collapsed with a vulgar thwump.
He clapped his hands together, as if to remove the filth from staining them. With a look of mild discontent, he sighed.
“Oh well.”
Seo Jinhwan made to walk away, but one glance at his companion’s shrinking silhouette had him hesitate. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he glanced back down at the sick bastard lying on the ground.
He brought his foot up high and let it drop on the thug’s manhood.
Whether it was the blow itself or its heavy thwack! and hollow crunch, the remaining members of the gang were all staring in horror.
It took him a moment to notice, but when he did, a sickly sweet smile crept onto his lips—with nothing but a dangerous promise lurking in his eyes.
He turned his back on them, lifting a hand up in a wave.
“See you all in hell.”
And then he followed after his companion.
Chapter 11: Reunion
Chapter Text
What did it mean to be a hero?
It’d been a while since the hacker had an answer to that. Being a hero was being selfless, putting the good of humanity above all else. Sometimes it meant sacrificing those you hold closest for the sake of humanity.
Seo Jinhwan wanted to be a hero once. But he could never make that kind of choice.
The memory of those times had returned to him after watching Kim Dokja. To say that he was entirely good would be misleading, but to call him bad wouldn’t be any more correct. He wasn’t sure what kind of label should be given to him—or if any could be given at all.
Maybe that was the point.
Whether or not Kim Dokja was entirely good, whether or not he was a hero, what he had done was admirable. Whoever he was, whatever his background and skills, he had earned the hacker’s respect.
Seo Jinhwan glanced back over his shoulder, where the men who had been leading the prophet to the rest of the group were now cowering a noticeable distance back from the pair. They flinched when they noticed his glare.
He sighed.
Their fear wouldn’t last, he knew that much. It wouldn’t take them very long to find some other mindless heathen with some semblance of power to throw themselves at. Hopefully, though, with the absence of their leader they would be left directionless. For the time being, at least. Better yet, maybe they would have a change of heart. It was unlikely though.
Chattering and the bustling of movement filtered up from the approaching staircase. The halls were dark, the only light coming from a few stray lanterns that flickered as the group passed. It was better than the empty platform they’d left behind. Soon, the darkness opened up to reveal bright lights.
It was rather crowded, Seo Jinhwan had to admit. There were many people huddled together into separate groups, but the status difference among them was beyond apparent. It hadn’t been this bad before. Or had it? And he’d just failed to pay attention.
Hidden by his pocket, his clenched hand began to tremble.
“The Cheoldoo group! People are hurt!”
Behind him, the rest of the members of the gang had stumbled into the station as well. The moment their injured bodies crossed the threshold, people went rushing forwards to greet them, gushing over their wounds and ushering them off to the side.
Seo Jinhwan shook his head. Yeah, he should’ve known he was being naïve to think they would have a change of heart. It wasn’t a matter of a few bad apples corrupting the rest, but instead there was something rotten deep in the system. He should’ve been paying closer attention, he shouldn’t have taken all that time off. He should’ve been more involved, he shouldn’t have gone for the sword so early, he shouldn’t have abandoned the group. He should’ve done something. He should’ve—
Quick footsteps bounded in his direction and, before he could even process what was happening, there was a tight hold around his waist. He looked down to find a head of fluffy white hair pressed flush against his side.
“You disappeared,” the muffled voice of Kwon Minho whispered into his sweater. “You’re supposed to tell me when you go somewhere.”
A mix of contempt and warmth swept through the hacker. Seo Jinhwan bit his lip. Then, he brought himself to a kneel so he could fully embrace the young boy. “I’m sorry, Minho-yah,” he said quietly. “It took longer than expected. I thought I would be back by the time you woke up.”
He tried to stand, but the boy didn’t let him.
“That doesn’t matter, hyung,” he replied. His grip on the hacker’s sweater only grew tighter. “If you don’t tell me, you can’t go anywhere.”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes widened, but then he chuckled. “Alright,” he complied, patting the top of the boy’s head. “You’re right, Minho-yah. I’ll tell you next time.”
“Good.”
“Oh my god. Dokja-ssi! Dokja-ssi!”
Beyond the warm voice, familiar faces beamed with relief and excitement.
It was a sight that lightened some of the tension weighing on the hacker.
Beside him, Kim Dokja stirred. “Yoo Sangah-ssi,” he greeted politely. Appearing startled, he extended his hand to her when she came to stand before him. She complied, grasping his hand in an awkward handshake.
Yoo Sangah smiled still. “I’m glad. Really, I’m glad.”
Seo Jinhwan’s contentment quickly faded. He couldn’t help but notice the passivity. The purposeful distance, the doubt, the hesitance. Just as well, he noticed the way the self-proclaimed prophet’s gaze lingered a moment longer on her hands, and the scars and scrapes across it. There was something about the way he assessed everyone, the way he presented himself, that he just couldn’t understand.
It was unnatural. The average person would not respond to a reencounter with familiar faces in such a manner. From the reactions of the others, it was obvious that this man was someone important to them, or at least someone who had done them a service. However, the nearly indifference demeanour the man himself took painted quite the opposite picture.
There was a sound and a quick blur of motion, and then there was another small figure. This time, it had attached itself to Kim Dokja’s leg.
“You’re alive.”
Lee Gilyoung held on tight. His brows were knit tightly together, his lips pulled into a trembling frown.
The sight brought a smile to the hacker’s face. This was good. At last, the child was reunited with his guardian.
He supposed the speculation of the prophet’s true identity could wait—for now, he could simply revel in the satisfaction of this reunion.
Kim Dokja looked fondly down at the boy, then stroked his head. “Have you been well?” he asked.
Lee Gilyoung nodded, but the thinness of his cheeks gave away the truth. Even with the supplies the hacker had brought earlier, it couldn’t tame the despair of a child missing his parent. He’d tried to keep him fed, but it was difficult.
Even without any interference, it seemed that Kim Dokja understood the situation well. He rummaged through one of the plastic bags and drew out a chocolate bar, placing it in his hand.
The thought sparked a channel of warmth within Seo Jinhwan. He poked at Kwon Minho, then nodded his head towards Kim Dokja. “Minho-yah,” he said quietly, “this is Kim Dokja. He is a friend of mine.”
The man’s dark eyes fixated on him a moment; staring, contemplating, before they closed as he gave the boy a wide smile. Once more, he brought his hand into the plastic bag and pulled out another bar of chocolate. He held it out to Kwon Minho who, after looking up at Seo Jinhwan for reassurance, accepted the treat. There was a spark of familiarity in those night sky eyes, something like recognition.
It was not a detail that escaped the all too wary hacker.
“I knew you were alive, Dokja-ssi.” A rather timid voice spoke up, accompanied by a nervous laugh. Lee Hyunsung. His meek demeanour was quite the contrast to his intimidatingly muscled physique. He hung his head in shame. “I’m really sorry. At the time, I left Dokja-ssi …”
This was a sight that the hacker would never get used to. For someone who was a soldier to have such a soft heart, it was quite an interesting sight indeed. Even with that, however, there was something more than the usual gentle, caring kindness that he usually had. Instead, it was something more. Admiration, perhaps. Protectiveness.
Despite casting his suspicions aside, Seo Jinhwan couldn’t help but ponder what kind of man this enigma really was.
Kim Dokja shook his head. “It was an unavoidable situation.”
Lee Hyunsung’s shoulders relaxed and let out a shaky breath. Still, the unease lingered in his eyes. “I’m glad that Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi was right.”
Seo Jinhwan’s gaze returned to the prophet. The man looked startled, no doubt wondering why that name was being mentioned. Interesting.
“Yoo Joonghyuk was rather certain you were still alive,” the hacker said. He crossed his arms, recalling the events as they had played out. “He made quite a scene about it.”
“Where is Yoo Joonghyuk now?” Kim Dokja asked.
Bastard regressor.
He couldn’t have been bothered to wait even a moment longer? He was the one responsible for this man’s disappearance. After all, he’d promised that he would become companions with him if he succeeded. If anything besides this outcome had played out, he would be the one to blame. Besides, he was the one who believed that Kim Dokja could do it, and yet he was the one to leave early. He’d abandoned him.
Like he always does.
“He’s not here anymore,” Seo Jinhwan replied. There was a touch of coldness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “He’s a rather busy man, after all.”
Kim Dokja’s gaze lingered on the hacker a heartbeat too long. Whatever thoughts he had though, he didn’t share. Instead, his shoulder squared and he let out a long breath.
“That reminds me,” he said, eyes scanning over the crowd, “there is one more person.”
Yoo Sangah bristled. “Ah, the department head.”
The woman didn’t get the chance to continue speaking before a group of men came rushing forwards. Four men armed with either hammers or pipes surrounded Kim Dokja, one of which being the familiar face of the unspoken man Seo Jinhwan had encountered formerly.
“Y-you!” the man cried, pointing a shaky finger at the prophet. “G-get rid of that guy! He is a very bad person! He shouldn’t be here.”
A crease formed between Seo Jinhwan’s brows. The hell was his problem?
In the short time that they were spending their time in the station, the man hadn’t once addressed the hacker. He’d caught the man staring occasionally, but he’d always avoid eye contact. Every so often he’d shuffle closer to the hacker’s group, if only to exchange some words with Yoo Sangah. While she never refused his company, the grimace in her eyes told another story. Eventually, the man had disappeared to mingle with the other groups that were beginning to overtake the station. In the time he’d spent waiting for the prophet, he must’ve grown all the more familiar with the thugs.
The man continued his wild exclaims, arms flailing about him. Despite having been placed in the centre, however, the rest of the group didn’t heed his orders. Instead, they shared skeptical glances between each other, shifting their weight back and forth as they adjusted their grasps on their weapons.
It was to be expected. That man was not the leader.
Perhaps on cue, a charismatic yet dark chuckle cut in and instantly the mood changed.
The hacker didn’t need to look to know who it was. It was a sound that he had come to know well. Still, the deceptively friendly lie was one that could easily fool any lesser man.
“Han Myungo hyung,” a sultry honeyed voice said. “Everyone should get along, so why don’t you stop?”
The sound alone was enough to make the group part in two, forming an empty path. A slim, light-haired man appeared. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that was enough to reveal the truth of his character, if one could look close.
He glanced the hacker’s way, and his eye gave a subtle twitch.
Han Myungo spluttered, the rage on his face quickly dissipated. “Ah,” he mumbled, “t-that …”
Cheon Inho turned towards Kim Dokja. There was a slight pause as he considered him, then the bags at his feet. His eyes closed as he gave a welcoming smile. “You are a new person.” The smile seeped through his every word. “Nice to meet you. May I ask what your name is?”
Seo Jinhwan didn’t miss the way Kim Dokja’s calculative eyes scanned over the other man.
“Kim Dokja.”
“Dokja-ssi,” the man repeated with a hum. Evidently, he avoided the hacker’s gaze. “I see. I am Cheon Inho.”
The hacker tucked his hands into his pockets. The last time he’d spoken to that man, he hadn’t gotten to share what was on his mind—no thanks to that crude regressor. It was because of that man that he hadn’t been subjected to the discrimination that the others in the station had faced. Perhaps, it even included the members he’d left behind in the time he’d gone seeking the prophet.
Although, he supposed, perhaps it was for the better. If he’d done it sooner, it might not have been as effective. Besides, it would seem that a second chance was arising.
Kim Dokja stared quizzically at him. His brows creased as thoughts raced through his mind. It was the kind of thoughtful pension the hacker was used to seeing, albeit on a more stoic, calculatedly distant face.
The charming grin on the man’s face refused to falter. “I heard the story from those you came with,” he continued. “You fought a monster and saved my group members.”
There was a look of confusion on the prophet’s face.
Seo Jinhwan found himself start to frown. He was used to Cheon Inho’s deceptive nature, but it was only natural that others would not quite know what to do. The man using his charms to weasel his way into taking his earnings was one thing, but to do so with Kim Dokja as well …
He lowered himself to speak softly to the boy still grasping onto his leg. “Minho-yah, stand behind me for a moment.”
Cheon Inho’s attention switched between the two of them, observing both of their demeanour. When neither said anything in response, he took the silence for hesitation, and hesitation for opportunity. And it was that devious glint, mixed with the discomfort of the hacker’s companion, that sealed his fate.
He splayed his arms out and, like a golden spotlight had fallen on him, the attention clung to him like a royal cape.
Seo Jinhwan’s hands trembled. It was one thing for him to let it affect his own efforts, but it was another to allow him to take advantage of someone else’s.
“Everyone—”
“Everyone present today is here through their own efforts,” Seo Jinhwan interrupted, voice clear. He flashed the man his own grin, that very same twinkle in his own eyes. “Whether it be Kim Dokja, the man before you, the children you see beside us, or the mothers with their own children. It is not by any means of good grace bestowed by any other, but by your own merit, your own hard work, that you have survived.”
Every pair of eyes were now on the group. Some in hope, some in despair, some with anger, some with fear.
Seo Jinhwan met each and every one of them.
“If you are here today, you have done some things that you are not proud of. Because you had to, because you wanted to, because you have something to protect. For some of you that is yourself, for others it is your companions, and for some it is your family. But what matters is that you chose to act.”
The hacker held out his arms. There was no hostility to his words, no hidden agenda, nothing. He bared it out for them all.
This was something he was used to doing—the role he long-since claimed.
Beside him, Kim Dokja held back a smile.
“We are not your saviours,” Seo Jinhwan continued. “No one you see in front of you will be your saviour. This is the world we live in, and we all must struggle to survive. We cannot save you. Just like you, we have our own to protect. We make sacrifices to defend those that we call ours. So today I ask you, who here can you really trust?”
Cheon Inho bristled, teeth grinding behind that deceptive façade.
“I understand your fear, but that fear is inside each and every one of us. Those you call allies will betray you. Just as you look at us and see what we have, someone else will see you the same. Not as a person, but as a resource. They will turn your strength into weakness, your trust into weapons” He paused, glancing at the light haired man in front of him. “They will use your despair as catalysts for their power. As such, you must all learn to rely on yourselves. This is not the world that we once knew. People betray people, we know this. But now that everything is set out to destroy each and every one of us, the betrayal is worse than ever before.”
The hacker’s eyes were not kind when he looked around the station. No, it was not kindness he offered, but respect. Acknowledgement. Honesty.
He kept his chin up as he stared back at the trembling eyes of Cheon Inho. “Protect yours while we protect ours, that is the only thing we can do in such a world.”
Chapter 12: The Constellation's Puppet
Chapter Text
It was an inevitable situation. This kind of thing was bound to happen, if not now then later. Had it only been for the hacker’s diligence, the situation would’ve been dealt with sooner, but because of the regressor and the threat of a changing timeline, he’d avoided it.
Cheon Inho was the kind of person that was difficult to deal with. Compared to mindless thugs, like Bang Cheolsoo and his followers guarding the exit, brute force wasn’t an option. Back then, violence had been a suitable choice because of the interference of the constellations. It was because that group fit into their description of visible evil. However, Cheon Inho on the other hand …
He was a different case. To label him as inherently bad required a more humane perspective--one that the constellations lacked. In their eyes, he was providing a system that allowed for everyone to share the burden of gathering and benefit from it as a group. What the constellations didn’t notice, or perhaps chose to ignore, was that the supplies were being filtered to specific groups while the harms were disproportionately faced by the lesser, marginalized groups.
This was not the kind of situation that Seo Jinhwan would support. There was no satisfaction in leading a group that you could not, and would not, give your full support. It was not honourable to trick people into believing that they are protected and cared for when the reality was something quite different. In the end, the only people that you could trust were the ones that you could understand.
In situations like these, everyone had to pick a side. It was either remain in a state of blindness and gather supplies that you would not have the liberty of enjoying with the belief that there was someone out there looking out for you, or face the truth of the situation and take responsibility for your own life. And while the latter may seem cruel, it was better than facing a lie. It was every individual’s responsibility to fend for themselves and choose who they wanted to have by their side.
That was why Seo Jinhwan had made the choice to protect Kim Dokja. And that was why, at first, Seo Jinhwan had felt proud of himself. But soon, that pride melted away into shame.
“What the hell?”
“He can’t be serious!”
“They’re not going to help?”
“Is he really going to monopolize the food?”
“We should get rid of him.”
“He doesn’t belong here.”
“If he’s not going to help the group then he shouldn’t be here at all, he’s only taking up space.”
“Selfish.”
“Leave the food to Inho-ssi! He will distribute it fairly!”
“Who does he think he is?”
“He just wants to hoard the food for himself!”
“How heartless.”
One after another, the outraged cries battled against each. Despair festering into anger, anger burning into rage, rage feeding into fury. The words clashed, breaking apart and moulding together as they fought to break above the surface.
Like a cursed spotlight, every single set of eyes were fixed on him. Some trembled in fear, some glistered with unshed tears, others were ready to be set to flames.
Despite the waver in his heart, he held his chin up. He couldn’t let them see him stumble, he couldn’t let them think he was hesitating. These were things that he had to say, they were things that had to be done. There weren’t enough supplies to go around and it was only going to get worse in the future. He had to prioritise the ones that surrounded him, he had to focus.
But it was difficult.
He could feel his throat beginning to close, his fingers growing cold. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. It wasn’t supposed to be this intense, it wasn’t supposed to affect him like this.
“What a monster.”
And suddenly he wasn’t in the station anymore.
“ … there has been an increase in cyberattacks targeting security and tech data …”
“... data from millions of individuals have been stolen …”
“... hackers breaching classified government-level data have caused detrimental losses …”
“... warnings have been advised to those who have stored digital information …”
Newspaper articles and broadcasts flashed in front of his eyes, the words echoing in his ears as the chorus of indignation from the crowd continued to chant. Even as his hands began to tremble, he couldn’t feel a single part of his body.
“Major industries have experienced severe losses due to the infiltration and corruption of a certain software. Investigators have identified the culprit of the situation to be a group that have identified themselves as ‘The Green Light’.”
“... reports of a man with brown hair, brown eyes …”
“... approximately 170 cm …”
“... if anyone has heard about the whereabouts of this individual …”
“... known to the cyberworld as ‘The Cyber King’ …”
“... the infamous criminal, hacker Seo Jinhwan …”
The words swam, weaving between one another until shapes began to emerge.
“You’re a disappointment, Jinhwan. We’ve invested so much into you and yet this is the thanks we get? How could you do this to us? To your siblings? Do you know how much you’ve cost us?”
A woman’s face was revealed, with long, straight hair, soft features, phoenix-shaped eyes, thin lips curled into a disapproving scowl.
“How dare you?!”
“Who do you think you are?”
“You think you can do anything without us?”
“Never show your face here again.”
“Monster.”
“Heartless.”
It was the last word that broke him out of his trance. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard it in his imagination or if he’d heard it from the crowd, but he found himself back in the station. His eyes darted from person to person, looking for—
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know what he was looking for.
[Several constellations are angry with your actions.]
[Several constellations disagree with your choice.]
[A few constellations shake their heads at you.]
All he could do was keep his head down.
From the start, he knew it would be like this, but still. Watching things play out wasn’t the same as imagining it, and it didn’t hurt any less just because he’d seen it once. He couldn’t shake off the weight of those words, the comments, the stares. The judgement. And it wasn’t so easy to shake off the doubt that accompanied it.
He could feel himself trembling.
[Several constellations are disappointed by your display of apathy.]
[A few constellations are uncomfortable with your decision.]
At the very least, he’d been able to take the pressure off the prophet. That was the only comfort he could give himself, but try as he might to ignore it, the indirect messages were starting to get to him. No matter how many regressions passed, and how many times the same words were flung his way, there was no getting used to it.
But had what he’d said been so wrong?
Regardless of the situation, it was Kim Dokja and Seo Jinhwan who had gathered those supplies. It was by their hands that these goods reached the station, not those thugs and not their incompetent leader. They were not members of the group, so it wasn’t their responsibility to tend to everyone. They had no obligation to share. And, besides, what right did Cheon Inho have in putting Kim Dokja on the spot like that? In forcing him to play the role of their saviour?
It wasn’t like Cheon Inho was doing this for the good of the people. All he wanted was to watch people bend to his will, fall into place at his feet. He enjoyed the power and reaped the benefits that came with it—he had no real interest in being a leader worth following.
So no, he had no right in forcing anyone to submit to his command. If he wanted that place at the top, he would have to earn it. And it was obvious he hadn’t. All he’d done was take advantage of the fear festering inside those civilians, abusing their denial and morality and turning it into a weapon. That was why Seo Jinhwan couldn’t allow the situation to play into that man’s hands.
Besides, he wasn’t going to allow his ally to be manipulated like that. Not so easily, not when he was right there.
Kim Dokja had to survive the inside of an ichthyosaur, he had to survive a scenario that not many even knew existed. It wasn’t right to allow the supplies he fought for to go to waste. It wasn’t right for the choice to be forced upon him, for his choice to be taken from him.
Seo Jinhwan would not abandon his companion like that.
[Several constellations are upset by your coldness.]
[The constellation ‘Defender of Lost Humanity’ expresses great disappointment.]
[A few constellations are unsatisfied with your change in heart.]
The constellations were nothing but hypocrites. Starved of their own stories, they seek to fill the void of their existence with the entertainment of the Star Stream. They project their morality onto the incarnations they watch, pushing them one way and yet criticizing them for their choice. They create the scenarios and adjust it to their will, but when they finally get what they want, it’s still not enough.
There was no one to blame for what had happened. With the way the scenarios were structured, this kind of thing was inevitable. There would always be people abusing other people, taking advantage of them and blinding them to the atrocities they commit. Cheon Inho was only the current example of this. Even if he were gone, there were dozens more ready to take his place.
But of course, it was never people like that who earned the constellation’s rage.
[The constellation ‘Scroll of Destruction’ smiles at your cruelty.]
[A few constellations chuckle at your inhumanity.]
[Constellations of the absolute good system frown at your judgement.]
His trembling stopped and an ice-cold hand wrapped itself around the hacker’s heart.
Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps the real person he was fooling was himself. After all, he had already accepted his place. Perhaps he was the one that was trying to justify his own hypocrisy.
He’d been distracted. He had to admit it—he’d lost focus. This regression wasn’t going as planned, and he’d been making far too many excuses for himself. Malfunctions in his skill, glitches in the system, unforeseen deaths, new survivors, the strange anomaly, the regressor’s change of attitude.
Seo Jinhwan was not a hero. Not in this regression, not in any other.
He wasn’t like the regressor, and he wasn’t like any of his allies either. He was not meant to be adored, he was not meant to be respected. He was meant to be feared. He was meant to be hated.
He was heartless, he was cruel, he was a villain. There was nothing that could change that; no glitch, no anomaly, no wish. It was something that he would have to accept if he were ever going to make it through to accomplish what he needed to. There was no room for distraction, no room for wanting something more—something that would never exist.
The name Seo Jinhwan would always belong to a hacker who brought nothing but chaos.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ understands your decision.]
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ understands your decision.]
[A constellation who is fond of snow understands your decision.]
[The constellation ‘Dark Light of Guidance’ understands your decision.]
The darkness swirling around him paused, and Seo Jinhwan lifted his eyes to the messages, to the far distance where the constellations were watching.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ supports your decision.]
For a moment, the hacker was silent.
He stared at the message, replaying the word in his head. Like nothing else existed, his eyes remained fixed on that little screen, as if he could blink and the word would vanish.
Supports.
Secretive Plotter supports your decision.
Slowly, the feeling started returning to his body, and he could feel his warmth begin to return.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ supports your decision.]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ supports your decision.]
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ supports your decision.]
A small smile tugged at the hacker’s lips.
It didn’t matter if some people found him to be inhumane or to have made a harsh call. It was a necessary decision. There were things that he needed to do, things that only he could do. Things that could only be seen one way. In the end, he didn’t need to please everyone.
He let his hand close around the hilt of his blade, his head tilting to the ground.
Then, a quiet laugh tumbled past his lips.
Yes, he was a villain. But perhaps there was more to it than that.
Everyone was going to judge him and not many people were going to understand. It wasn’t his responsibility to save everyone, and it wasn’t his goal to begin with. And the constellations were always going to do their best to tear apart anyone who refused to play along with their petty games.
But, well, if all the constellations were going to try and make him their puppet, then at the very least, he was going to choose which ones had the chance to hold the strings.
[Personal skill, Hard Drive Lv.6, has been activated.]
[You have retrieved an item from your file.]
A brown overcoat pixelated to life as the hacker pulled the item from his storage. His signature item that was stored through each regression, and the same SSS-Grade Infinite Dimension Space Coat as Yoo Joonghyuk. He placed it on, immediately finding comfort in the added warmth. Finally, when he was done with his fidgeting, he took a step to rejoin his companions, but he found himself pause.
He looked up.
“Thank you,” Seo Jinhwan whispered. He wasn’t quite sure where to look, and even if he were, he didn’t think he would have. Still, he fixed his gaze up, as if he could see through the ceiling. “Whoever you are and whatever your motivation, thank you, Secretive Plotter.”
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is smiling at you.]
Chapter 13: The So-Called Prophet (I)
Chapter Text
“Currently, there are 88 people in Geumho Station. Ah, I guess it is 89 people now with Dokja-ssi.”
For the past few hours, Lee Hyunsung had been helping Kim Dokja grasp the situation. Well, it was mostly for the benefit of the prophet, but since Seo Jinhwan had spent more time outside the station than inside, he was taking note of the information as well.
From afar, that was.
He was sitting with his back against the wall, idly shuffling through his endless storage of notes. Beside him, Kwon Minho was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. The boy hadn’t said anything since he’d given his monologue, but he’d remained at his side.
“It is less than I thought,” Kim Dokja mused.
“Yes,” Lee Hyunsung said. “When the scenario broke out, only those near the station and those on the train survived. Everyone didn’t say it but, ah …”
The soldier glanced in Seo Jinhwan’s direction, but was unable to meet his eyes.
Seo Jinhwan lifted a brow. Then, he swiped his hand through the pixelated screen in front of him. “Everyone here has taken another person’s life,” he continued for him. He tilted his head, holding his gaze on the shaken man. “Are those the words you’re looking for?”
Lee Hyunsung flinched, but nodded his head.
The hacker sighed. “I’m only saying what everyone knows.”
It was obvious from the expressions of people. Everyone who was present had to take the life of another person to survive. That was the truth of the first scenario.
“Actually,” a quiet voice interjected, “thanks to Dokja hyung we were able to survive without doing that.”
Seo Jinhwan froze.
It was Kwon Minho who spoke next, his hands moving from the bottom of the hacker’s sweater to his shoulder to pull him down so his ear was closer to his level. “Like how you gave me that moth,” he said quietly. “Gilyoung and the others did the same. With grasshoppers.”
“Grasshoppers?” Seo Jinhwan echoed.
Lee Hyunsung perked up. “Ah, yes. It was Dokja-ssi’s quick-thinking. He realized that the scenario required killing a ‘living creature.’ We were able to survive by his example.”
So it was a situation like that.
It was something Seo Jinhwan had stumbled across by accident. To be honest, he couldn’t quite remember why he knew that the scenario would allow for the lives of creatures that were not human to be considered, nor did he remember how he knew to search for that moth. However, it was a product of regression. The lifetimes began to blur, and he had to learn to simply trust his instincts. But if that was the case then …
Seo Jinhwan turned his attention to Kim Dokja. The man was already staring back at him with those deep, thoughtful eyes of his. There really was something about him, from his face alone, that told hundreds of stories all at once. Something so powerful and yet so fragile, all at the same time.
Either way, this was an important discovery. It meant that even from the very beginning, this man was already finding loopholes in the scenarios. He was already reading between the lines very few even knew how to draw.
A slow smile took to the hacker’s lips. Kim Dokja just kept getting more and more interesting.
He gave a small smile to Kwon Minho, gesturing for him to stay still as he got up to his feet. Then, he walked in the direction of the prophet.
“Kim Dokja, come here.”
Confused, Kim Dokja hesitantly complied. Beside him, Lee Hyunsung’s eyes darted between the two, unsure which one he should be watching.
When he reached him, the hacker wrapped one arm around his shoulders, bringing the other up beside his face and making a peace sign.
With a wide grin, he said, “Say ‘cheese.’”
[Personal skill, Screenshot Lv.1, has been activated.]
[A photo has been taken.]
The look of confusion remained on Kim Dokja’s face as the mild flash went off, but Seo Jinhwan was already moving. He took his spot back beside Kwon Minho who was giving an odd look.
[You have opened Midday Tryst.]
[You have sent an image.]
Seo Jinhwan chuckled to himself. Then, when he realized everyone was watching, he waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing,” he said. His smile remained on his face. “That was all. Carry on.”
Lee Hyunsung’s eyes lingered on the hacker, but when nothing more was said, he shook his head. Clearing his throat he started, “Currently, Geumho Station is divided into two groups. Strictly speaking, it is one group and the rest.”
Yes. This was something that Seo Jinhwan knew. Sadly, it was because that was how things worked. Regardless of the situation, no matter who you gathered, the strong would always be separated from the weak. Humans always resorted to hierarchies, believing it to be the natural system in a dog eat dog society. It was one of the many things he wished to change.
As the soldier described, there were two distinct groups gathered in the station. On one hand, there were those who were armed with iron pipes and other weapons. Then, on the other, were the ones who refused to accept the severity of the situation. They believed that things would be over soon and so sought refuge in the strength of others. Even though they, too, were guilty of the same crime, they lacked the resolve necessary to survive. They were the ones who didn’t want to believe that they, too, were murderers. They wanted to hide from the truth—they needed to, perhaps.
And that was why the hacker had said what he had. These people needed to understand what was happening, they needed to find their own strength and rely on themselves. If they wanted to survive, they would have to find a way to do so with their own hands.
“Food distribution is determined by the mainstream group,” Lee Hyunsung continued. “Convenience stores and restaurants in the region have already been robbed. The foods that can be eaten right now are almost gone.”
“I see,” Kim Dokja mused.
“It is the reason why some people from the mainstream group were sent above ground for food collection. Heewon-ssi, who you brought in, went with them.”
“Heewon-ssi …?”
“Ah, it is the name of the woman who Dokja-ssi and Jinhwan-ssi saved.”
There was a pause as the prophet looked in the direction of the woman. “Is Heewon-ssi the only one who didn’t come back?”
“No. In fact, a few more people went out this morning but only those from the marginalized group didn’t return.”
Seo Jinhwan’s hand clenched.
There were more people missing that he hadn’t found?
He was making more mistakes than he thought. It would make sense that he hadn’t run into anyone, after all he’d been searching for survivors who didn’t know better, not survivors who were purposefully gathering supplies. And … he hadn’t anticipated that people were already betraying other people like that.
“They didn’t come back?” Kim Dokja asked.
“Yes.”
Lee Hyunsung’s expression became sad, his eyes drooping towards the ground. For now, he was the kind of person that was able to recognize injustice, but lacked the courage to act on it.
Before Seo Jinhwan could say anything, a soft chime rang in his ears.
[New unread messages in Midday Tryst.]
He took longer than usual to respond. Or, well, perhaps he should be glad he responded at all.
[Yoo Joonghyuk: What do you want?]
[Seo Jinhwan: Aw, come on. What’s with the sour attitude?]
[Seo Jinhwan: Do I really need to have a reason to message you?]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: Get to the point.]
[Seo Jinhwan: Does there always need to be a point?]
[Seo Jinhwan: Maybe I just want to talk to you.]
There was a pause and then—
[Yoo Joonghyuk: Seo Jinhwan.]
[Seo Jinhwan: :)]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: I will leave.]
Seo Jinhwan let out a sigh. Although, he wasn’t very surprised. It was natural for the regressor to respond like that. If anything, it was more surprising that he put up with any of it in the first place.
[Seo Jinhwan: No, no, wait. Don’t leave yet.]
[Seo Jinhwan has sent a video.]
[Seo Jinhwan: What do you think of your prophet?]
“Yoo Sangah-ssi, Lee Hyunsung-ssi. Everyone, please wake up. It isn’t the time to be making this look. This food, he and Seo Jinhwan-ssi obtained it by risking their lives. Do you expect to get it for free?”
The mention of his name caught his attention.
He snapped his head back up, closing the chat box to focus on his surroundings again. There he found that the woman, who he remembered to be Heewon, had regained consciousness. She was now standing with Kim Dokja, Lee Hyunsung and Yoo Sangah.
“Ah …” Yoo Sangah’s face tinged slightly. “I was too shortsighted, I’m sorry. Of course we should pay. It is right. I don’t like freebies either. I hate depending on other people.”
“I also agree with Yoo Sangah-ssi. I will pay coins from now on.”
Seo Jinhwan lifted a brow. He understood what had happened—Kim Dokja had asked them to pay for the food. It was a rather smart decision, although not one that he would have made himself.
He watched as the three exchanged coins with the prophet, then they approached him. At first he was confused, but when he realized what they were doing, he lifted a hand. “Oh, no, actually—”
Ignoring his words, Jung Heewon extended her hand to touch his fingertip.
[Jung Heewon has paid you five coins.]
Behind her, Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung had the same determination.
[Yoo Sangah has paid you five coins.]
[Lee Hyunsung has paid you five coins.]
Seo Jinhwan looked away from them. “Ah, well, if you so insist.”
He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. If it were his choice, he would’ve given them the food for free. After all, it was his understanding that this was the group that he had chosen to protect, and they were doing him a favour by helping take care of Kwon Minho. But, if they didn’t want to feel like they were being given a freebie, then it wasn’t his position to argue. And it was also Kim Dokja’s decision to make the supplies be an exchange rather than a gift, and he wasn’t going to side against him.
[Lee Gilyoung has paid you ten coins.]
That time, the hacker bristled. It was one thing for the adults to want to take responsibility for themselves, but it was another for a child to believe they were being held to the same standard. He hadn’t even noticed when the child had approached him, and he was already starting to walk away to return to the prophet.
“Wait, Gilyoung-ah,” Seo Jinhwan called after him, “that is unnecessary—”
“It’s for the chocolate bar earlier,” he replied.
[Kwon Minho has paid you ten coins.]
Seo Jinhwan turned. These children and their damn speed.
“Minho-yah,” he said, his voice a wavering mix of serious and anxious, “really—”
“It is too late,” the young boy replied.
Then, he went to exchange the rest of what he owed to Kim Dokja.
Seo Jinhwan wasn’t sure how he felt. The actions of the two proved that often it wasn’t the adults that were the quickest to evolve to a changing world, but rather the children. They followed the example of those that they trusted, and they were the most likely to begin with empathy rather than judgement. But still, it didn’t sit right with him that the two had paid him for the food. He had chosen to take responsibility for their safety, and that included providing for them.
Once again, the notification cut off his train of thought.
[New unread messages in Midday Tryst.]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: It is not unusual.]
[Yoo Joonghyuk: Perhaps you are too unfamiliar with this kind of combat.]
The stress he was experiencing came to a stuttering end as it was replaced with indignation. Was he trying to say that the hacker lacked combat experience? Seriously. Just because that bastard regressor was some kind of evolved warrior it didn’t mean that he was any less experienced.
[Seo Jinhwan: It is unusual.]
[Seo Jinhwan: His patterns are too precise.]
[Seo Jinhwan: It is like he knows what his opponent will do a moment before it happens.]
He crossed his arms, already anticipating the other’s response.
[Yoo Joonghyuk: It is to be expected of a prophet.]
The edge of his fury was tamed. Ah, that was right. This guy was under that kind of impression. He’d forgotten that they weren’t exactly on the same page when it came to Kim Dokja. While Yoo Joonghyuk was still testing his potential, Seo Jinhwan was thoroughly impressed. But then again, Yoo Joonghyuk’s interpersonal skills were rather questionable, so it wasn’t surprising that he wasn’t interpreting him the same way.
[Yoo Joonghyuk: You are still at that station then?]
Seo Jinhwan frowned at the message. He thought that was going to be the end of their conversation, but for some reason, it was Yoo Joonghyuk that was trying to continue it.
Strange.
Did he need something?
[Seo Jinhwan: Are you missing me already?]
As he expected, Yoo Joonghyuk did not reply.
With a sigh he shook his head. Well then, that settled that. Even if he were in some kind of trouble, it was unlikely the hacker would be of any assistance. If he needed the help, he would have said something more. Besides, by now he should have his loyal student on his side.
“It would be bad for you if you stay with Jinhwan-ssi.”
Once more, the sound of his name tuned the hacker back into the present. He closed their chat, turning his head to find Cheon Inho sitting on a bench by Kim Dokja, cigarette in hand.
The sight made him roll his eyes. What a cliché. This guy had to stop consuming so many crime dramas.
“It seems that he is quite opposed to helping the greater good. He made some rather cruel claims earlier that caused much distress, but you don’t have to make the same choice. It is not too late to leave him and join us instead. You are the hero of the people and will be the leader of the group with us. Everyone will like you and also—”
“I’m sorry but I can’t be responsible for anyone.”
Seo Jinhwan couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips.
“Hmm, is that so?”
“It is how Jinhwan said earlier, and we are a team so I won’t turn my back. But above all, the way you run the group doesn’t fit me.”
“Is that so? It is fine. However, if you change your mind, come back anytime.”
“That will not happen.”
“Haha, it remains to be seen.”
Ugh, this guy.
It would become complicated if he killed him, but it seemed words weren’t enough. He really went out of his way to try and recruit Kim Dokja. It wasn’t even a proper recruitment, he just wanted access to his skillset.
Around him, the displeased complaints of the crowd had started again.
Cheon Inho’s deceptive smirk returned. As the chants grew, his lips moved to speak a single word.
Choose.
Seo Jinhwan turned his attention towards the prophet, trying to read through the haze surrounding his face to figure out his reaction. Did he need him to interfere or did he have the situation under control?
“Ahh, everyone,” Cheon Inho said, his hands raised to draw their attention. “Calm down. There seems to be a misunderstanding. Kim Dokja-ssi isn’t such a person. That was only the empty threat of Jinhwan-ssi. In fact, Kim Dokja-ssi has decided to work with us. The food he has brought today will be left to the mainstream group and will be fairly shared. He also promised to continue to work with us—”
“Stop.”
Cheon Inho’s smile dropped, and in that moment, Seo Jinhwan knew that he didn’t have to worry.
“Of course I will give out food,” Kim Dokja said.
The words made the grin begin to return to Cheon Inho’s face, but Seo Jinhwan could tell that there was something beneath those words. Yes, his help would not be needed.
“However, it isn’t for free.”
Murmurs echoed through the station as people exchanged weary glances. They were puzzled, as though they didn’t understand the situation.
“W-wait a minute! It isn’t free?”
Kim Dokja’s eyes met Seo Jinhwan’s as they shared a moment of understanding.
“I’ll tell you,” the prophet said. “I don’t intend to monopolize the food. But I won’t give food to Cheon Inho’s group. I’m not UNICEF and I don’t trust them.” He paused, a devilish smile on his face as he looked at the arrogant leader. “I will make a deal with you. I will sell you the food for a fair price.”
“S-sell?”
“What …?”
“Uh … how much money?”
Cheon Inho’s face stiffened as it was now Kim Dokja that laughed.
“No, I only accept coins.”
Chapter 14: The So-Called Prophet (II)
Chapter Text
Slash.
Slash.
Slash.
Seo Jinhwan’s pitch-black blade pierced through the bodies of the mutated rats. A stretch of pixels was illuminated in front of him, a product of his skills that allowed him to scan the area to retain his vision in the dark. The lapels of his jacket danced with him as he maneuvered from spot to spot, phasing between his physical and pixelated forms.
Slash.
Whoosh.
Slash.
He paused, breathing heavy as he glanced behind him. Piles of those ground rats lay desecrated, blood splattered along the walls and the train tracks. With furrowed brows, he lifted the dark mask covering his mouth and nose a little higher, then dragged the bottom of his beanie down.
Ever since night had fallen, he had been feeling restless.
The sounds of the ground rats had made falling asleep difficult. It was the same with the rest of the group. Unlike before, the regressor wasn’t around anymore to tame the beasts in these tunnels. It was the reason that they were able to have such leisure time, not that the hacker would have liked to admit to having enjoyed the other’s help.
But then again, regardless of the roars thundering down the empty corridors, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. There was far too much on his mind.
Slash.
Slash.
He didn’t know how Yoo Joonghyuk managed all this on his own—even with his pixelation skill he was struggling. But, then again, what couldn’t that bastard do? Most of the time he sought after solutions that relied only on his own strength, even if he did collect followers from time to time. In terms of strength, the two of them were incomparable.
Sporadic movement caught the edge of his vision, the pixels in the corner of his makeshift goggles flashed red in warning. He reacted deftly, pivoting his body and arching his sword high.
At first, it was just the regressor that he had to be cautious about. With his stoic attitude and unknown agenda, it was difficult to get a proper read on him. It was something that Seo Jinhwan had come to accept. However, now it wasn’t just him that he had to look out for.
Kim Dokja.
With every day, every hour, every scenario, he became more and more interesting. Dangerous, even. To say it frightened him would be one thing, but no, instead … Instead, it was more like admiration. Awe. Respect. Envy.
Although he had easily bested his opponents, to say that he relied on his raw strength would be wrong. The influence he held over others was nothing to scoff at. No matter what happened, it seemed like he had the upper hand. It almost forced him to consider that perhaps he really was a prophet. And he would have, if it were anyone else he would have. But … he had the feeling that that was not the truth.
How was he able to remain so calm in such situations? How was he able to manipulate the constellations so easily? How was he able to gain the favour of others even in the face of conflict? How was he able to be so bold without any fear of retaliation?
Everything that had taken the hacker regressions to figure out, this man was able to do it in seconds. He was able to do it all the first time, as if there were no risks at all. Killing insects instead of humans? How did he know that it would work? How could he be so confident? It was like he’d somehow lived through more than he, and perhaps even that damned regressor, had. Already the self-proclaimed prophet had made himself more helpful than the hacker had ever been.
Seo Jinhwan’s sword stopped moving at thought.
Maybe …
… with Kim Dokja here …
… I’m not—
He barely activated his ‘Pixelation’ skill in time to dodge the attack.
The echoing cries of the ground rats thundered through the tunnels, shaking the very tracks the hacker stood on. His body slackened, his blade nearly tumbling to the ground from his loose grip.
What had he done to protect anyone? He hadn’t been able to save any of those people on the subway, he hadn’t been the one who cleared the hordes of undead, he hadn’t been able to save the prophet from the ichthyosaur, he wasn’t responsible for finding that woman at the convenience store, he wasn’t the one who had fought those thugs, he wasn’t the first to enter these tunnels.
There was nothing he had accomplished by his own hands.
But then he thought of the empty, lightless eyes of the child at the back of that subway car—the tiniest flash of hope that had gleamed in them when he’d offered his hand. He remembered the tight grip the boy had kept on his sweater, the concern in his voice when he’d returned after he’d gone to retrieve his sword.
No one else was responsible for saving the boy. It was him, only him, that had interfered. Seo Jinhwan had been the one to save Kwon Minho. And there was no one else that could have, no one else that would have. If it weren’t for him, Kwon Minho would no longer be alive.
And then another thought crossed his mind.
He didn’t know why, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.
But for some reason, he thought of a lonely back hidden by a dark coat.
When he returned to his physical form, his eyes had hardened and his grip on his sword was tight.
*********
It was nearly morning by the time the hacker returned to the platform of the Geumho Station.
[Your incarnation body is in a worn out state.]
[Personal skill, Pixelation Lv. 6, has been deactivated.]
Seo Jinhwan stumbled slightly as he was forced back into his physical body. There was a paleness to his face that hadn’t been there before, but it remained hidden by his mask and the fringe of his hair sticking to his forehead beneath his beanie.
“Ridiculous regressor strength,” he muttered to himself. He fixed the lapels of his jacket, disguising the tired waver in his arms and legs.
If he’d stayed even a few minutes longer, the outcome would have been different. He’d been close to wearing down his ‘Pixelation’ skill before he’d escaped the danger, and if his skill wasn’t available … Well, he wouldn’t be standing here. Perhaps he did, in fact, need to give Yoo Joonghyuk a little more respect.
The thought brought a chuckle to his masked lips.
“Hey.”
The hacker was caught off guard when a voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
He turned, eyes flitting through the station until they landed on a familiar figure. It was the woman from earlier—Jung Heewon. Her dark eyes were staring back at him from where she was leaning against the platform wall, not far from the entrance to the tunnel. There was an odd expression on her face as she studied him.
After a moment, she asked, “Where were you?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, considering her. Had she been waiting for him? That wouldn’t have made sense. Although he had noted that she was one of the group members that had been awake when he left, he’d assumed she’d try to sleep after conversing with Kim Dokja. There wasn’t a reason for her to be asking where he’d gone. Could it have been that she was concerned?
Immediately, he looked away from her.
It was a ridiculous thought. He wasn’t sure where it’d come from. Perhaps it was the influence of the prophet—or perhaps the change in attitude of the regressor. He was becoming too sentimental.
“Are you feeling better?”
Just as he had ignored her question, she chose to ignore his. “Why did you leave?”
A crease formed between the hacker’s brows. He couldn’t understand why she was being so insistent. Aside from the coin exchange, they’d hardly interacted with one another. She should be more focused on regaining her strength, or perhaps considering her stubborn attitude, getting revenge.
“It seems that your condition is better,” he said. Although his attention was on her, he avoided looking her in the eye. “There doesn’t appear to be much activity happening at the moment, so you can try and get some sleep if you haven’t yet.”
This time, her expression shifted—though not by much. Her brow lifted, the neutral expression on her face curved into one closer to exasperation. However, where he was expecting irritation, there was nothing as she asked, “Was there a reason you avoided everyone?”
Why wasn’t she letting up?
Normally people would have walked away by now. No, for a matter of fact, no one would even notice that he’d been missing, much less ask him why. What was happening? Why were there so many changes? Why were people acting so different?
Why was he being noticed?
Seo Jinhwan feigned a yawn, stretching his arms above his head as he walked further away from the entrance to the tunnel. “Do you know how difficult it is to fight a swarm of murderous beasts?” he hummed. “Very. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re some kind of overpowered beast of your own. Well, perhaps it’d be easier in a group with a particular skill set. If you don’t want to rest, then I’ll be taking the opportunity—”
A long, drawn-out sigh interrupted him.
“How did I know you would be like this,” the woman said under her breath. She pushed herself away from the wall, walking towards the hacker to cut off his path. Once in front of him, she pointed her finger back towards the tunnel. “No one who goes in there survives—the thugs or anyone else. Everyone who goes inside will unconditionally die. I’d like to know how you managed.”
He took a step backwards, his hands rising to fix his beanie lower. “Luck,” he replied.
She gave him a look that was anything between annoyed and amused. “Of course you would say something like that,” she mumbled. With another sigh, she crossed her arms, taking a step forward to stand at his side. “Anyway, I didn’t thank you, did I?”
He frowned. “What for?”
“For earlier,” she said. Her tone was a little different this time, her eyes not quite meeting his. “At the convenience store.”
“Ah,” he said, starting to walk away from her, his hand lifting in a wave, “it’s Kim Dokja you should thank.”
He’d said the words like a farewell, but she didn’t hesitate to follow after him. “I did thank him already, but I hadn’t spoken to you yet.” Pausing slightly, she lifted a brow at him. “You’re not very easy to find.”
“Perhaps that’s the point.”
She didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she shifted her body so that she was blocking his path, then extended her hand. “I’m Jung Heewon. I know you already know my name, but we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”
The frown on his face deepened as he stared at her hand. He didn’t understand what was happening, he couldn’t even begin to. This wasn’t how his regressions went. He wasn’t supposed to make friends, he wasn’t supposed to be acknowledged, he wasn’t supposed to be seen.
He didn’t dare lift his gaze to meet hers when he replied, “Seo Jinhwan.”
Once again, she let out a loud sigh. “Ah, seriously,” she grumbled, her outstretched hand lifting to interlock with her other behind her head, “you try too hard to be cool.”
Seo Jinhwan stiffened, but then he gave her the look he’d practiced so well. Amusement, arrogance, cold indifference. “I’m not trying to do anything. However you perceive me is up to you.”
This was all starting to become dangerous. If things continued this way, he was going to forget what it was that he was after. He’d have to revise his plans, change his goals. If people continued to talk to him like that, look at him like that, then …
It was a dangerous thing.
All because of one person, he had become distracted. All because of one person, he had become sidetracked. All because of one person, he’d begun to—
Rich laughter echoed through the station.
Seo Jinhwan paused, finding himself stop dead in his tracks. He turned, finding the woman smiling, fighting back a fit of laughter. She straightened her posture when she realized he was facing her.
“You’re not like those thugs,” she said, her voice clear. “I can tell. You might try and act like you’re like them, but you’re really not. Honest isn’t quite the word I’d use for you, but when you lie you actually put yourself in a worse position. I can’t even tell if there’s a reason for it most of the time.”
Seo Jinhwan didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing that could have prepared him for something like that.
She threw a casual arm around his shoulders, seeming to find great amusement in his baffled expression. “Seriously,” she chuckled, “I know you must be quite capable on your own, but you make people want to protect you. Did you really think I couldn’t tell you weren’t trying to brush me off just now? You’re a handful. I could tell when you were going to try and refuse the payment. And then you went head-first into that tunnel without telling anyone! That poor boy with you was so worried …”
The hacker had taken to studying his shoes. He was hardly able to listen to the words she was saying, much less take in the meaning behind them. “There’s no need to protect me. We’re the same age, you know,” he said quietly, unsure of what else to say.
There was a brief pause before she swung her arm back to her side, her head tilting to observe him. “How old are you?”
Seo Jinhwan had to think about it. Age wasn’t really something he’d thought of in a long time. “How old—”
“That is not something to ask a woman.”
He pursed his lips. “26,” he answered finally.
The grin returned to her face as she brought her arm to rest on his shoulders once again. “It is as I thought,” she said through a laugh. “You should be referring to me as ‘noona’ then.”
His eyes narrowed and he brushed her arm off. “No thanks.”
She chuckled, but soon enough the sound stopped and her eyes turned serious. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” she said, her voice quieter than before. This time when she brought her arm around him again, it was to point down the hall that led to the centre of the station where the majority of people were gathered. Specifically, her attention was on the dark-haired prophet. “Are you really sure we can trust that guy? He sold all the food you know.”
To be honest, it wasn’t surprising. He knew exactly why Kim Dokja would go to the extent of selling all the goods they’d gathered. Soon enough, there would be a penalty limiting the supply that would be available, and all the existing food would disappear. It was the wise decision to sell whatever they were unable to finish.
“If Kim Dokja made such a choice, there was a good reason,” he replied.
He meant every word of it. Even if he didn’t know about the scenario, he still would have placed his faith in his decision. After all, every other choice he’d made had proven to be correct. He couldn’t say the same for his own choices.
“I don’t understand you,” she mumbled, her brows knit together. “Why do you trust him?”
Seo Jinhwan thought about it. Why did he trust Kim Dokja? Was it because of his intellect? His power? Ever since they had met, he’d done nothing but prove himself worthy. From his fighting to his calculated words, he had a plan for every outcome.
The prophet had proven himself a few times already, and yet none of those reasons were why the hacker placed his trust in him.
He watched him from afar, his clenched hand trembling in his pocket.
“He is everything I’m not.”
Chapter 15: The So-Called Prophet (III)
Chapter Text
“Where were you?”
The moment he passed the threshold from the halls to the main platform, the worried face of Kwon Minho was staring back at him. It seemed that the boy had woken up sometime during the night and had taken notice of his absence. Not too far away, Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung were leaning against the far wall. Although the two were talking, they were watching over the young boy until he reached the hacker’s side.
Seo Jinhwan fixed his attention back on Kwon Minho.
“Where were you?” he asked again. While the boy’s voice remained that same quiet and distant tone it always was, the anxiousness and bite in his words remained clear.
Still standing beside him, Jung Heewon shot him a smug look. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be helping him get out of this one.
Seo Jinhwan chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck. “Ah, well …”
“Was it dangerous?”
This child, he was always straight to the point.
“Yes, Jinhwan,” Jung Heewon chimed in, a brow lifting as she smirked, “tell us. Was it dangerous?”
He shot her a look but the woman only crossed her arms in response. It would seem that neither she nor he would be letting him off the hook. With a sigh, he brought himself into a crouch so he could be level with the young boy.
“Minho-yah, it was very loud during the night, wasn’t it?” he asked. He placed his hand over the boy’s head, ruffling his hair gently. “It made sleeping quite difficult, I’m sure.”
Kwon Minho’s brows furrowed. “So … you were the one that chased those beasts away?”
Seo Jinhwan smiled, although it was covered by his mask. “Yes. I wanted to make sure you and everyone else was able to get some rest.”
The crease between his brows only deepened as a frown started to spread on his lips. His dark eyes scanned up and down the hacker’s form, looking for something. “But, hyung,” he mumbled, his hand grasping at his sweater, “what about you? You didn’t get to rest and you went in by yourself.”
He froze. This wasn’t the first time the young boy had shown concern, and this wasn’t the first regression where these situations happened, and yet … Every single time, it never failed to take him by surprise. Perhaps he believed that one day this child wouldn’t believe in him, and all those fond memories he had would disappear when he realized he wasn’t enough to save even this one little boy right in front of him.
When he smiled, there was a faint tinge of red in his eyes as the warmth rang through him and the tears began to brim. His hands moved to rest on the child’s shoulders.
“Kwon Minho,” he said with lifetimes worth of emotion, “I will always protect you.”
The boy’s lips trembled and he buried his face into the hacker’s chest. The grip he had on his sweater loosened, tightened, loosened until he finally decided to wrap his arms around him tight. Then, quietly—so quietly that if he weren’t listening, he would have missed it, he said, “Be careful, hyung.”
Seo Jinhwan smiled, his hands lifting to remove the beanie on his head. Gently, he placed it on the young boy.
*********
Seo Jinhwan was updating the information in his ‘Hard Drive’ when it happened.
Crackle.
Spark.
In a flurry of golden lights, the air was split apart as a familiar figure was revealed. Screams of terror rang out across the station. It was only natural. The nightmare of humanity that had opened the tragedies they were all forced to survive.
However, it wasn’t the same dokkaebi from before.
It was the dokkaebi Bihyung that was responsible for all nearby channels, but that was not the one before them now. Where Bihyung had white fur and small horns that pointed upwards, this one’s fur was black and had larger horns curving downwards and out. But it wasn’t only the physical differences that were noticeable—the two gave completely different energy.
With a sigh, Seo Jinhwan finished the remainder of the granola bar he’d been holding in his opposite hand, the other still scrolling through the information he’d stored in his files. He took a quick glance to his left, satisfied to see that both Kwon Minho and Jung Heewon had done the same.
[H-How are you all doing? Haven’t you been free for a while?]
The dokkaebi had a rather timid tone, but the hacker could sense the bloodlust hidden within it. He’d been through enough to know that it was often the ones that pretended to be kind that were the most cruel. These creatures had an agenda that did not involve the protection of humanity.
[M-My friend who was originally in charge of this channel is undergoing disciplinary action. S-So, I am responsible for this scenario.]
Disciplinary action?
As far as he was aware, it should still be Bihyung addressing them now, not this one before them now. There wasn’t any such instance of a ‘disciplinary action’ towards Bihyung in any other regression, either at this point or during any other.
His eyes cut through the crowd, singling out the silhouette of one specific individual. Even without any clues, he knew exactly who would be responsible for such a change.
[T-Then everyone … Don’t you look very peaceful? T-That Bihyung, he pretended to be pretentious only to set this level of scenario difficulty.]
From somewhere in the midst of the anxious crowd, a wavering voice called out, “W-What are you saying? Tell us what you want!”
There were murmurs of agreement that drifted among the people, more and more people joining when others beside them did. Despite their fear, they still hadn’t come to understand the gravity of how much this world has changed.
Looking away from them, Seo Jinhwan dragged his hand through his screens to create a new file. He documented the event, taking note of the personality and temperament of the new dokkaebi.
[H-Hik. Don’t be angry, everyone. A-Anyway, I came for you guys …]
“For us?”
“T-Then give us food!”
The hacker nearly flinched at the words. These people … it would take them a while longer to figure out they needed to be careful with what they said to such creatures. Not to mention, they had much to learn if they still believed any good could come from asking these things for help.
[F-Food? Aha … if you want food …]
Before the dokkaebi moved, he felt the change. This was where the penalty would be coming into play.
Subconsciously, his eyes shifted in the direction of the prophet.
Ping.
[A scenario penalty has been added.]
[From now on, food stockpiling is limited.]
[All existing stockpiled food has disappeared.]
“U-Uhh! What?”
The reaction was immediate. All the people who had been storing emergency food let out outraged and panicke cries as they realized what was happening. Regardless of whether it was from the mainstream or the marginalized group, everything and anything that was considered to be food floated into the air. In desperation, some of the people tried in vain to grab hold of the items before they were pulled far, far out of reach.
All the outrage did was fuel the dokkaebi’s twisted glee.
[Hehehe. Then, everyone, you can’t. Y-You have to think about how to break the scenario.]
Then, with a snap of the dokkaebi’s finger, all the food that had been floating—from the biscuits to the granola bars to the canned soup—were destroyed. Not even a crumb or wrapper remained, as though the food had never existed in the first place.
Sweat had begun to collect on the face of Cheon Inho. His plans were beginning to crumble, and now it wasn’t just a matter of a couple individuals questioning his leadership. With this, he would have to expand his control to maintain the security he’d held on to up until now.
It was with this fresh wave of anguish that the shocked faces around the station became grim as they watched everything they had struggled to gather, store, and trade had been ripped from their hands with a mere gesture.
This was the way of the new world.
[Y-You want to eat? In any case, Earth Trash …]
And just like that, the creature’s tone changed. He no longer attempted to disguise his malice. His eyes, once almost-human with white sclera and golden iris, flashed red. A vicious, sadistic grin replaced his formerly gentle smile.
Seo Jinhwan had witnessed enough for the unsettlement to begin to pool in his stomach. This dokkaebi wasn’t finished, which meant there would be another penalty on top of the one he’d just added.
[Everyone, let’s have fun from now on, hehe …]
Screen after screen appeared before each individual as the dokkaebi snapped his fingers once more, that twisted gleam glowing brighter and brighter.
[A scenario penalty has been added.]
[The ‘survival cost’ clause has been added.]
[From now on, 100 coins will be deducted every night for the ‘survival cost.’ If you can’t pay the ‘survival cost,’ you will die.]
[The ‘survival cost’ penalty will be maintained until the second main scenario is cleared.]
The anxiety growing within him burst.
A survival cost? That had never been a thing in the past. Or, what if it had been and the malfunction in his damned ‘Hard Drive’ was preventing him from remembering?
Many people would be in a tricky situation. Those that were able to afford the fine today would still need to worry about the next day, the next, the next. It was no longer an option to hide away as these people had been doing in the past, but instead they all now had to throw themselves into this horror that the dokkaebis and constellations called entertainment.
People were going to die.
And he couldn’t do anything about it.
If there was some kind of common foe, a monster or opponent, then it wouldn’t have been a problem, but … Even if he were to share his coins with some of these people, it wouldn’t be enough to save them forever. And he, too, needed the coins for later—otherwise there’d be no point in him surviving past this point himself.
His hand trembled violently in his pocket. What should he do? What could he do?
The dread was sinking in faster than his mind was able to keep up with. He needed to think, he needed to calm down, he needed to breathe—
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ has sponsored you 100 coins.]
Seo Jinhwan was snapped back into reality. His lips parted to say something, but he found the words fade before they could even form. Instead, he lifted his hand in an acknowledging wave.
This constellation … Whoever they were, they really were quite persistent.
[T-Then I will let everyone take care of it!]
And then, the dokkaebi disappeared.
With unsteady hands, the hacker fixed the mask on his face. This wasn’t the time nor the place for him to unravel. Nothing had happened, nothing had changed. There were people he needed to protect, there were things that he needed to do. This changed none of that. Worse situations would be forced on them in the future and all he could do—all anyone could do—was prepare.
His eyes flitted over the crowd as he forced his mind to steady.
Who would these people blame for their misfortune?
This was something that he already knew. These people wouldn’t blame the dokkaebi that had come down and placed the penalty on them, nor would they blame the constellations whose enjoyment and satisfaction were the source of these scenarios.
Instead, they would turn their attention to whoever was in front of them.
And because of what had happened earlier, those people would be none other than Kim Dokja and Seo Jinhwan himself.
A food penalty and survival penalty. The former was something to be expected, as it had happened in the former regression, but the latter … It wasn’t something that had come up before. For someone like him, it wouldn’t be a problem, but …
He didn’t know what state his group members were in.
He avoided looking at the rest of the people in the station as he pushed his concerns down, down, down inside of him. The waver in his eyes had long since been replaced by a look of cold indifference as he swiped his hand through the open screens from his ‘Hard Drive,’ effectively shutting them off.
It wasn’t difficult to locate the group. They gathered near the back of the station, behind one of the many rounded podiums connected to padded seats. The hacker moved quickly, weaving between the crowd to reach them.
The moment he reached them, he pulled aside the white-haired child.
“Minho-yah,” Seo Jinhwan said, his voice stern but quiet. “How many coins do you have? You must tell me.”
The boy looked up at him, his coal eyes softer than they had been before. He reached one hand up to toy with the end of the beanie. “It’s okay, hyung,” he replied. “I have enough.”
His grip on the boy’s shoulder only grew tighter. “Minho, are you certain? I have—”
[A constellation who is fond of snow is moved by your concern.]
[A constellation who is fond of snow has revealed their modifier.]
[The constellation ‘Guardian of Forgotten Joy’ is reassuring you not to worry.]
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes shifted between the messages and the calm face of Kwon Minho. Then, he released a sigh, a significant amount of the tension in his body lifting. Yes, he shouldn’t have been worried about something like this. Kwon Minho’s supporting constellation was someone who was willing to do whatever possible to protect his incarnation.
“Alright,” he conceded, nodding his head as he let go of his shoulders.
Kwon Minho smiled.
He turned, finding Lee Gilyoung standing not too far away. He gave the same serious look to the boy. “Do you have enough as well, Gilyoung-ah?” he asked. After all, although he had been helping him train his abilities, he wasn’t entirely sure who his supporting constellation was—and if they would show the same amount of support as Jack Frost.
However, Lee Gilyoung nodded his head. The conviction in his eyes told him enough that the boy was indeed telling the truth. As well, he probably wanted to prove that he didn’t need to rely on the hacker.
“Seo Jinhwan.”
The hacker turned to find the prophet staring back at him. Unlike the rest of the crowd huddled throughout the station, he appeared composed. Where the rest of the group members showed signs of apprehension, There was nothing but calculated calmness behind those starry-night eyes. Calmness and perhaps …
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he asked, although the words were more of a statement than a question.
Kim Dokja’s head tilted. “I did expect it,” he replied after a short pause. “I thought about what the dokkaebi would do first to harass humans.”
“I see.”
From a few paces off to the side, Jung Heewon made an irritated noise. “... aren’t you really good at making predictions?” she muttered to herself.
Seo Jinhwan studied his expression. It was rather difficult for him to get a gauge on what this man was thinking. When he focused, he was able to decipher the face beneath those blurry pixels, yet even beneath that, he seemed to wear another mask.
“How—How did this happen?”
The people of the marginalized group were crying. It was natural. They had already been suffering from a lack of food, scrounging at nothing to earn scraps from those that monopolized their power, and now that those people had lost everything as well … They really would be at a complete loss.
When Seo Jinhwan’s attention returned to the prophet, he found that Kim Dokja had been focused on the mainstream group as well. Specifically, his gaze was fixed on Cheon Inho. Something changed in his expression—shock, perhaps. Then, he turned his attention to each of the other group members, one by one.
Seo Jinhwan lifted a brow when his turn came. The prophet quickly looked away.
Meanwhile, the anxiety they had formerly been showing on Cheon Inho’s face had been replaced as he attempted to organize the chaos. “Everyone, gather together,” he said loudly, rallying the people to him. “I will give you an emergency notice.”
The contents of the notice were simple: the situation had become worse and so more ‘scouts’ from the marginalized group were needed. Of course, something like this was to be expected. For a group this size to survive, they would need to hurry.
“We won’t distribute food to people who don’t participate as scouts.”
What would have once resulted in a backlash of outraged cries was met with silence. They couldn’t protest the situation—not with the way they were now. Despite what the hacker had said, these people were not yet capable of depending on themselves, and so when a crisis was presented … More control was passed onto the mainstream group.
Cheon Inho knew this. That was why, despite the disappearance of their food supply, hope remained on his face. He could still turn such a situation to his benefit.
With that, Seo Jinhwan took a steadying breath. In the past, in desperate situations such as these, people would turn to him. Perhaps it wasn’t always out of respect, perhaps it was because they had no other option, but either way, it was something he’d gotten used to. That was why he took a step forward, ready to address the party members. However, it wasn’t his voice that spoke up.
“Dokja-ssi,” Lee Hyunsung said, “what now?”
The hacker’s brows furrowed and he shut his mouth.
Right. Of course they should turn to him instead. After all, he hadn’t made any mistakes until now. And he, unlike Seo Jinhwan, had been able to predict this outcome.
Kim Dokja’s voice remained neutral as he acknowledged that the attention of the whole group had fallen on him. “Of course, we have to go and get food,” he answered.
Each of the group member’s expressions became tense. They all understood what was meant by “obtaining food.” At least, up until this point, there was only one meaning behind such words. As far as they were aware of, at least.
“Then, we have to be scouts?” Lee Hyunsung asked what the others were thinking. “There is still food remaining aboveground.”
“Nope, we won’t go above ground,” Kim Dokja replied. “If we go there, we will unconditionally die.” His gaze turned to a gas mask on the floor. It was tattered—there was nothing it could do to stop the poisonous fog.
Confused, Lee Hyunsung muttered, “We need to obtain food above ground …”
“Hyunsung-ssi,” Kim Dokja chided. A small smile had taken to his lips. “The world has changed. Then, the food needs to change.”
He looked towards the tunnel to Yaksu Station. It was enough to confirm what Seo Jinhwan had been suspecting.
“Wait a minute,” the soldier said, realization dawning on him. “Dokja-ssi … don’t tell me?”
“That’s right. We will hunt monsters.”
His eyes landed on the hacker once more.
“But first, I must talk to Jinhwan-ssi.”
Chapter 16: The So-Called Prophet (IV)
Chapter Text
Seo Jinhwan’s emotions had become complicated, so he didn’t know what to think when the prophet pulled him aside.
He watched the rest of the group shuffle down the halls of the station, closer to the entrance for Yaksu Station. There were anxious looks on their faces as they studied the dark tunnel ahead of them. Some hid it better than others, some didn’t even try. He let his gaze linger on each individual, observing the distinct tells of their nerves, and the more hidden cues of the subtle emotions that transcended those nerves.
“Seo Jinhwan.”
The hacker turned his attention to the dark haired man in front of him. That distance he kept in his passive expression, a second mask to that censored shield. That strange blurriness to his face and the way he had to tap into the passive activation of his Cryptography skill to see past it. The way he would immediately forget those features if he weren’t more vigilant.
His feelings towards him had begun to shift—they had been for the past while now.
Good, bad, good, bad. Good. Bad.
He hadn’t yet decided which side he would place him. There was the way that Lee Gilyoung looked at him, the kind of full-hearted trust that only a child could give. The way he had defended him from the thugs at the Geumho entrance. But there was also the way he thought. The way he took an intellectualized indifference to the people of the station. The way he had predicted the penalties and had exploited coins from the others.
Just like himself, he wasn’t sure this man belonged to either side.
“Why didn’t you side with Cheon Inho?” the hacker asked, his voice quiet.
Kim Dokja chuckled. The sound was brittle; a mix of amusement, confusion, cruelty. “Why would I?”
“Making enemies isn’t exactly the best strategy.”
Kim Dokja was an enigma. This was something he already knew, but the longer he knew him, the more the statement remained true. To call this man good would be wrong, but to call him bad was no closer to the truth. What could be said for certain though was that he was a leader, he thought quickly, he was critical, he knew more than any and all these people combined. He was prepared.
There was nothing Seo Jinhwan could say that this man didn’t already know—that was the impression he gave.
And that was why he couldn’t understand him at all.
Because, if he already knew everything, if he didn’t need anything, then why was he here?
“You think too much.”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes met Kim Dokja’s.
He laughed. This time, there was more honesty behind it. “Jinhwan-ie,” he said, his eyes twinkling like stars, “you really think too much.” His arms crossed as he shook his head, smiling with gentle fondness. “I told you that we will be companions and I meant every word. It would be good if you could trust me every now and then.”
The words made him frown. “Trust is a currency worth more than coins, Kim Dokja.”
Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure if this was a person he could trust. Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. To some degree, he did trust in his judgments and he did trust that he would be able to keep the group safe. As far as he could see, this was someone that was doing his best to keep those around him alive. Not just breathing, but alive. Surviving. He was building a team that could stand on their own.
And so, this was someone he could put his trust in as a leader. He trusted him as a leader, he respected him as a leader. But there weren’t many that he could trust to keep close—that he could trust as a companion.
He wasn’t sure if such a person even existed.
Kim Dokja sighed. There was a heaviness to it that couldn’t be explained. This time, the smile on his face appeared rather forced. “You are right,” he agreed, his voice quieter than it’d been before.
Seo Jinhwan couldn’t understand the emotions. He couldn’t have, no matter how hard he tried. It was the cost that came with his distance.
Kim Dokja touched his hand to the hacker’s shoulder.
[Kim Dokja has paid you 750 coins.]
Seo Jinhwan didn’t have the time to even flinch before he saw the notification flash in front of his eyes. He frowned. “What is this for?”
The array of emotions that had been flickering across the prophet’s face had dulled, revealing only that eerie calmness that so naturally encompassed him. “It is your half of the profit from selling the supplies,” he answered.
Oh. That was right. He did recall Jung Heewon mentioning that Kim Dokja had sold all the supplies they’d gathered. She had found it to be a foolish decision, considering he hadn’t left any to spare for himself. He couldn’t blame her. That was the natural way of thinking.
However, it was a smart choice, of course. Especially with the addition of both the survival and food penalties. Although, then again, that hadn’t been a coincidence. No. Of course not. It was a calculated decision. Coins were necessary for survival—and it wasn’t only because of the penalty.
That was why Seo Jinhwan shook his head, refusing the offer. “Oh, no you don’t have to do that.”
[You have paid Kim Dokja 750 coins.]
Kim Dokja lifted a brow. But it seemed like he had been anticipating such a reaction. “Seo Jinhwan.”
[Kim Dokja has paid you 750 coins.]
This guy sure was stubborn.
“You were the one who sold them,” Seo Jinhwan replied, “not me.” This was the truth. The supplies would have been distributed differently had it not been for the prophet. With the way he handled it, he wouldn’t have made any income. “So the coins are for you to keep. You’ll need them to pay the penalty fee.”
[You have paid Kim Dokja 750 coins.]
Without hesitation, Kim Dokja countered, “You helped to gather the supplies.”
“You need the coins more than I do.”
This time there was a pause as Kim Dokja made a complicated face.
Ah.
Seo Jinhwan didn’t need to ask to know what the other was thinking. It made sense. From the way he emphasized the importance of coins, it was obvious that he would find any way possible to secure as many as he could. He must have made quite the deal with that other dokkaebi.
A wave of envy coursed through him. He’d never even considered such a bold move. Then again, he wouldn’t have had the skills to pull off a feat like that.
“It is fine, Kim Dokja,” he assured. “Keep the coins.”
Kim Dokja’s lips parted, an argument seconds from spilling from his lips, but he stopped himself, seeming to realize that nothing he said would change the hacker’s response. He sighed, the sound long and heavy.
[Kim Dokja has paid you 725 coins.]
“There,” he said, a look on his face that would not accept anything less. “I will take an extra 25 for selling the food, but you should still keep your profit.”
It was things like this that really left the hacker confused. Kim Dokja didn’t need to give him anything. He really didn’t have any reason to. It wasn’t like he was indebted to him, nor would he gain anything, but still he was insisting. And, if he hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have even known they’d made such a profit in the first place.
This wasn’t a person who went out of their way to give charity or to break even. This was a person who liked to exploit as much benefit as he could with as few manageable consequences as possible—a person who had been able to trick a dokkaebi.
So why would he give him coins? What did he stand to gain?
And suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder again.
Although Kim Dokja was not smiling, there was something gentle about his expression. Something vulnerable. Something honest. “If trust is worth more than coins, I have already given you far more than these pennies.”
It was an expression the hacker tried to ignore. “You would have to be a fool to place your trust in me,” he said, the words quiet. He looked away, forcing his attention on something—anything—besides the man in front of him. Finally, he stopped on the rest of their companions. “Your company is wise for following you.”
Kim Dokja tilted his head.
“You are a natural leader,” Seo Jinhwan continued. “It makes sense that they have survived until now.”
“It is not because of me. They have survived well on their own even in my absence.”
“But it would not be possible if it weren’t for you.”
It was the truth. The only survivors from Kim Dokja’s train were meant to be Kim Namwoon and Lee Hyunsung. In the past regressions, that was how it had always played out. And it would end with them joining Yoo Joonghyuk’s party. However, that had not been the case in this regression.
Not only had there been new survivors and had Kim Namwoon failed to survive, but Lee Hyunsung was not a loyal follower to Yoo Joonghyuk. Nor was he looking at him with that same reserved, cautious, and almost hostile look that came from his discomfort with the hacker’s attitude. Instead, he had attached himself to someone else. And he wasn’t as wary of Seo Jinhwan himself.
Things had changed. Things were in the middle of changing.
Realization struck him as he pondered on that. Yes, that was right. Things were changing in this round. It was possible after all.
“Kim Dokja,” Seo Jinhwan said carefully, a hidden smile on his lips, “perhaps you are capable of rewriting what has already been written.”
When Kim Dokja’s eyes met his, something changed in his expression. It was as if he had been anticipating something, but—for once—he’d been wrong. He removed his hand from the other’s shoulder.
“Seo Jinhwan, you walk a path that is different from my own,” he replied after a moment. He looked towards the rest of the group, the others in the station. “In fact, it is a path that no one here can even attempt to follow. But I believe that our goals are the same.”
Seo Jinhwan followed his gaze before letting it rest on him once more.
Kim Dokja’s eyes were set, a firm determination brewing. “However, you and I have different things we must accomplish. For the path you must take, it is impossible to become the leader of this group.”
He found himself frowning. How did he know? Was he simply this good at reading other people? Had he been paying even closer attention to him than he’d realized?
Of course he envied both Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja’s natural ability to lead, to have people follow. And of course in each round he tried to help because he wasn’t fond of the way Yoo Joonghyuk handled the group. He told himself it was because he often had to resort to leaving Kwon Minho in their protection, but that wasn’t the entire truth. He did want to be a part of the group, he did want to be a member.
But he wasn’t able to follow them. Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure that he would be accepted. Welcomed. And there were things that he needed to do alone.
“There is much for you to do on your own.”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes widened. How did he—
Kim Dokja held his gaze, refusing to let him look away. “I will not stop you. In fact, I will make room for you to do the things you must. On one condition.”
He waited, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat rise through his nerves.
Kim Dokja’s gaze did not falter. “Seo Jinhwan, you must trust me.” He said the words seriously, as if they were the most important ones he’d ever had to say. “If you have doubt, if you are in trouble, do not face it alone. There are things that you can only do on your own, but there are things that you can’t. I am asking you to know the difference.”
“Kim Dokja,” the hacker started. Although, he didn’t know what else to say.
However, it didn’t matter as the prophet continued to speak, “You are important to this group, Seo Jinhwan. Whether you are with us or not, you are a member. Do not think of me as a leader, but instead as someone who will clear the obstacles for the path you will take.”
Seo Jinhwan felt the world around him go blank.
Did Kim Dokja know how much those words meant to him? How long he had waited to hear such words spoken to him, even once? Knowing him, it wasn’t entirely impossible, and yet it didn’t look like there was any ulterior motive.
No. His expression was earnest, his eyes were soft. It was that vulnerable look again, the one that revealed that, even someone as crafty and well-guarded as him, was human. Despite how he appeared to be handling everything like it was second nature, there was still just another human being inside. And perhaps that human being felt just as alone as he did.
The gears shifted in his mind. One by one, slowly but surely. With each turn, the colours and noises of the station began to return.
Kim Dokja was not someone that was easy to unfold. There were dimensions to him that made it difficult to tell how close one was to him, and yet there was something else to him that made it seem all too simple.
Perhaps he was beginning to understand something new about this man. And perhaps that had less to do with predicting him, and more to do with trust. Because perhaps he didn’t need to predict everything. Perhaps … it was okay to let others handle things.
Perhaps he didn’t have to face everything alone.
Kim Dokja extended his hand. “Seo Jinhwan, do you trust me?”
Seo Jinhwan’s eyes locked in on that hand. They were covered by scars and calluses, likely from the battle he must’ve endured trying to survive that ichthyosaur. It was by those hands that people who were not meant to survive had lived, and someone who was meant to live had died. It was by those hands that this regression was seeing things that had never existed before.
And it was by those hands that Seo Jinhwan was being offered something he had never been offered before.
Behind his mask, a smile was growing.
Seo Jinhwan took Kim Dokja’s hand.
“Let’s go hunt those beasts.”
Chapter 17: Hesitation
Chapter Text
There was an inexplicable weight resting in the pit of the regressor’s stomach.
Ever since he had parted ways with the hacker, it had been there, lingering like a heavy stone. He thought that by taking on those beasts, he would be able to ignore it. But he was wrong. It only seemed to get worse.
There was an irrelievable itch across his skin, pricks like a millions pins behind his eyes, a restless flame burning him from the inside out. With every step, he could feel all of it threaten to take over, and it was a fight to stay on his feet. He couldn’t even begin to understand it, much less understand why.
He pressed the palm of his hand to his heart, fingers trembling.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
Fast and uneven, he could feel his pulse threatening to burst free from the despairing cage of his decaying lungs. The tremor in his hand only grew more agitated as he dug his fingers into the fabric of his collared shirt, into the skin below. He pressed harder and harder, until there was a dull throb in his chest that couldn’t be compared to the endless burns swallowing his mind.
Should he return to Geumho?
That was the last time he had felt normal, the last time he had been free of these strings of pain. He wouldn’t be able to move forward in these conditions, he had to do something. If he slipped up, he would end up regressing, and for some reason—some inexplicable yet utterly important reason—he didn’t want to resort to that.
Should he return to Geumho?
He didn’t know what it was about Geumho that had given him his strength, but he had felt like himself then. On edge, perhaps, but himself. He had been able to fight, he had been able to be free of these heavy chains dragging him down, down, down.
Should he return to Geumho?
His nails threatened to pierce through the woven cloth separating his hand from his chest, yet even then, the skin beneath it was turning red.
What was the difference?
He thought about it—he had been thinking about it. He thought he would have been able to shake it off if he continued forward, if he kept his body and his mind active. But that wasn’t the case. This pain, it was blinding. And it had nearly cost him.
Back when he had been fighting those ground rats, he had stumbled, and he had only just barely managed to dodge an attack to his side. He could have died. Or, well, perhaps it would have been more accurate to say he would have been wounded. But this was meant to be easy.
“Good. I don’t like him very much either.”
A playful smile by soft curved lips, a laugh that was always somewhere between amusement and a threat.
The regressor’s fingers pressed hard into his chest.
Was that the difference?
Although the thought brought a bitter aftertaste, the tightening restraints around his heart loosened enough that he could finally feel himself breathe an unlabored breath. It had been there for a while, but he refused to accept such a ridiculous answer.
But the storm inside of him had calmed when he received that notification. When the hacker had sent him a message, the flames inside of him quit their endless pursuit to swallow him alive. At least, that was until he checked that message and those flames were replaced by an uncomfortable tang swirling in the back of his throat.
“Master.”
He shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave Geumho. Should he go back?
The regret inside of him had grown because of those messages. Although, to be honest, he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him. He wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to return, to move backwards. It wasn’t like the hacker had asked him for help, it wasn’t like he was in any trouble at all. He was managing just fine on his own.
No. Not alone. He wasn’t alone, he was with that prophet.
“Master, are you alright?”
That uncomfortable tang returned, and he bit his tongue to keep from retching.
As it turned out, that prophet had survived. Not only that, but he had gained the hacker’s favour. Which was more than what the regressor could say for himself.
Perhaps he had been progressing too fast. Perhaps he should have waited another day for the prophet, or perhaps he should have at least tried a little harder to convince the hacker to come with him. After all, he hadn’t really wanted to move on to Chungmuro without him, but he had already made the offer and it would have been strange if he lingered after such a firm rejection.
His jaw clenched, the muscles tensing as he grinded his teeth. He shouldn’t have asked him at that time, he should’ve waited. If he had only brought him back to the station with him and had spoken to his white-haired child he would have had an easier time persuading him, but he saw the look on his face and he just—
“Master.”
The voice of the young student he’d recruited called out to him. He startled, his eyes widening as he dropped his hand to his side. How long had she been there?
“Is something bothering you, Master?”
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced over his shoulder. Lee Jihye was standing there behind him with a look of confusion, concern, and a tinge of fear. The flat of her sword was resting against her shoulder, her grip around it loose but tight enough to show she was prepared at any second to attack.
It was important that he recruited Lee Jihye, he reminded himself. She was someone that was a must in later scenarios. After all, with her supporting constellation, there were few people who would pass the chance to have her as an ally. That was one of the reasons he had made the decision to move forward. The sooner he reached her, the stronger she would become. And he could use her strength right now.
Especially because he didn’t have the hacker.
His fingers clenched.
“Go back to your room,” he replied, the words cold and distant.
It was almost time for the second night to begin. That meant that it wouldn’t be long before the station would be overrun by dangerous beasts. There weren’t many people that were able to fight even one of those creatures, and among those there was an even smaller number that would be able to survive even a few minutes outside one of the designated rooms.
Of course, Yoo Joonghyuk was one of those few people. And the other …
The other person that would be able to survive without a room was Seo Jinhwan—but that was only assuming his ‘Pixelation’ skill was active. Without it, the man would be ripped apart in seconds.
Unease tickled along his tongue and he clenched his hand to divert his attention. That hacker was a foolish man indeed, and he was sure that if he were here he would be giving up whatever room he’d charmed his way into to whoever had the courage to ask.
Well, it didn’t matter. Seo Jinhwan was not here.
Perhaps it was for the better.
For now, at least. Sooner or later he would have to come here. Which brought him back to his original thought—should he go back to Geumho?
Of course, he didn’t doubt that the other would be able to reach Chungmuro without assistance, but the thought of him venturing the Yaksu tunnels on his own didn’t sit quite right with him. Oh. Right. He kept having to remind himself, the hacker wasn’t alone.
Seo Jinhwan being accompanied by Kwon Minho was one thing, but that new anomaly accompanying him was something else. At the very least, it didn’t appear the two were very close. After all, the hacker had asked him for his opinion and, of course, he had given him an answer. Kim Dokja’s skills were not that impressive for a prophet and it was only natural that he had been able to accomplish what he had. If anything, it just meant that he was dangerous. It was obvious that he was after something and that might prove to be just one more unnecessary headache.
“Master, will you not be using a room?”
When he’d arrived the day before, it had been during the night. The safe rooms had only just been established, and not everyone understood the repercussions of failing to secure one. Not to mention, there simply weren’t enough to go around. At least, ones that were available to be secured that was. Even then, Gong Pildu and his Land Lord Alliance had secured and were monopolizing the safe rooms.
At the time, Lee Jihye did not have room. He had saved her from the hordes of ground rats that were stampeding about. In the process, there were a few others that had been spared as well. She had yet to find the confidence that would allow her to progress through the scenario. Well, it was obvious that she was still burdened by the first scenario. It didn’t matter though, what mattered was that she was able to stand her ground now. He had shown her enough and now she was able to fight back on her own.
From then on, they had used the tunnels as hunting grounds and everyone knew to stay away. It gave the high school student the space to train and hone her skills, while also keeping herself useful to the others in the station. He was aware that Lee Jihye had been giving the food he cooked to some of the citizens in the main area. It wasn’t something that he condoned, but if it gave her the resolve to continue levelling herself up, then he wouldn’t interfere.
However, he knew that the people needed to learn to fend for themselves, and if they were being given free handouts, they wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be good if they became dependent on Lee Jihye for food, or on anyone else to keep them protected. Sooner or later, they would all die if they didn’t learn how to defend themselves with their own hands. It was better to have them figure it out now then suffer more later.
Either way, he didn’t have the time to bother himself with anyone that was unnecessary. There was a course that he had to follow and he had to be sure that he wouldn’t repeat any of the mistakes of his past. He needed to push through the scenarios, he needed to get stronger and faster. He couldn’t let the past repeat itself. However, that course was becoming less and less clear.
Should he ask the hacker?
He shook his head, annoyed that the thought had even crossed his mind. Ask the hacker? What help would he be with something like this? He already knew what decision that fool would have made. If he were here, he would have destroyed the entire station. If he were here, he would have disrupted the corrupt chain of ownership. If he were here, the Landlord Alliance would no longer exist.
Seo Jinhwan was too easily distracted. He didn’t look out for himself, and kept getting into unnecessary trouble because of it.
The regressor’s hand twitched on the hilt of his blade. It wouldn’t be long until the hacker arrives, and when he does he likely would do just that. Should he eliminate the alliance now then …?
Again, he shook his head.
No. He didn’t want to cause himself any unnecessary trouble. It would only provoke Gong Pildu if he eliminated his group, and having Gong Pildu was necessary for the future. There was no reason to eliminate them. And it would only cause the civilians down there to rely on him all the more. He didn’t need such a thing—he wasn’t a blind-sighted vigilante. And with these undefined emotions wreaking havoc on his body, he couldn’t take such a risk—Wait. Since when did he care what that foolish hacker thought about him anyway?
His brows furrowed, teeth gnashing against each other. He couldn’t figure out why Seo Jinhwan was taking up so much of his thoughts. At first he’d thought it’d been out of a feeling of debt after the man had given his life to protect his wife and child, but now …
He wasn’t so sure.
“Master—”
“I will find my way.”
Whatever he was feeling, it was foreign. Nothing could even begin to speak on that rising tsunami of raw, unknown emotions that was threatening to crash into him. But whatever it was, he would have to ignore it. Silence it. Destroy it. He couldn’t have weakness painted on his face, and if even Lee Jihye was questioning him, then he really had to get it together.
With steadying breaths, he listened to the faint sounds of the young girl’s footsteps. Even, unlike the stumbling of his pounding heart. He knew he needed to calm down, take a breath and think rationally. Focus. But his thoughts were only continuing to spiral.
He didn’t know what his next step should be.
There were too many uncertainties.
Seo Jinhwan had been behaving differently. It was obvious from the moment they’d encountered each other and he’d seen the way he was clutching at his head and squinting his eyes in pain. The hacker was trying to play it off, but his skills weren’t activating as they should have.
And then there was the prophet. Not only had Kim Dokja appeared out of nowhere, but he had survived the ichthyosaur. What was meant to be a near-impossible feat, he had successfully accomplished. He was changing the course of the regression.
Kim Namwoon was dead, Lee Hyunsung was not his ally, Kwon Minho was not under his care, and Seo Jinhwan was not flitting around between hidden scenarios and doing whatever the hell it was that he got up to.
It wasn’t like he enjoyed having to deal with the hacker’s antics—of course not, it was a headache waiting to happen—but it was something that he’d come to expect. It wasn’t typical for Seo Jinhwan to linger in one place for very long, even if it was for Kwon Minho’s sake. He was someone who blazed on ahead, taking down every obstacle in the way even if it meant scraping himself along the way. He was someone who was stubborn to the very end and never listened to what anyone had to say. Mixing someone like that with a prophet who hadn’t even existed in the other regressions was a disaster waiting to happen.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know what to do. The past events hadn’t been unfolding themselves according to his plans, and he wasn’t sure that he liked the direction things were taking now. What should he do? How would he fix this? Was there a way to fix this? Could he fix this?
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is asking what’s on your mind.]
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes filled with hate as he glared at the indirect message. As much as he hated the feeling of uncertainty, there was one thing that he hated more—those damned constellations and their prying eyes.
All they did was sit around and watch as whole civilizations, whole worlds, whole universes, were destroyed for the sake of their entertainment. They took joy in tugging at the strings of the incarnations they look down on as they laugh with each other at the chaos that unfurled by their hands.
He was going to take them all down. Every single constellation, he was going to destroy them all.
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is watching you with curious eyes.]
For a moment, his anger stalled as something akin to warmth flooded through him. An image, a memory, that he couldn’t recognize flashed before him. Warm eyes staring back at him, soft with genuine and gentle curiosity. The pins that had been prickling at his eyes vanished, those flames inside of him once again stuttering.
Rebel of Fate.
It was one of the constellations that had been acting strangely, and it was one of the ones he hadn’t recognized from any of the other regressions.
There was something almost … familiar. He couldn’t place it, not when he knew he didn’t recognize the modifier nor take even a wild guess on who it might be. So instead, he looked at the message, analysing every pixel as if it would reveal something new.
Curious eyes.
That was what had caught his attention. Curious—not rage, not amusement, not pity. And it was no curiosity for something that spoke of their so-called trivial humanity, not for some cruel twist they had planned, not for prying into the private lives of the incarnations they wished to belittle. Genuine curiosity—was that really an emotion a constellation could have?
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is asking what’s bothering you.]
Asking.
Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t failed to notice the constellation’s choice of words. It was not a command, not a mere thought, but the constellation was asking him. Speaking to him.
He forced his hand to clench tighter around his sword.
Still, a constellation was a constellation.
“Mind your business.”
With that, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, straightening his back as he turned away from the message. He couldn’t afford the extra distraction, he needed to keep his head clear. Night would be falling at any minute, and there was much preparing left to do.
Just as he had started to walk, another notification pinged in his ears.
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is waiting for your answer.]
The regressor paused, his brows furrowing.
What kind of a person was this constellation?
“It’s none of your concern.”
However, this time he waited a moment for the response to come. Once more, he wasn’t sure why, but he found his body acting before his mind could catch up. Perhaps it was because of the familiarity that followed that modifier, or perhaps it was because of the curiosity building inside of him. Perhaps he was beginning to wonder if it was possible that there were some constellations out there that didn’t fit the mold.
But then, moments passed, and there was no response.
His shoulders loosened, his eyes falling to the ground.
Ping.
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is waiting for your answer.]
Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression remained neutral, but there was something reborn in his eyes.
“It is difficult,” he said, voice quiet but stern. “The flow is unpredictable.”
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is wondering why you always try to do everything yourself.]
The regressor tensed. “What would you know?”
[The constellation ‘Rebel of Fate’ is smiling at you.]
Psyche_CatEaredVigilante on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 07:46PM UTC
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Emulea on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 09:30PM UTC
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DesertPudding on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 09:09PM UTC
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Emulea on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Jul 2025 09:30PM UTC
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Iammyself003 on Chapter 7 Sun 27 Jul 2025 03:06PM UTC
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Emulea on Chapter 7 Sun 27 Jul 2025 08:07PM UTC
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Jermani on Chapter 8 Mon 04 Aug 2025 06:13AM UTC
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Emulea on Chapter 8 Mon 04 Aug 2025 05:56PM UTC
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Iammyself003 on Chapter 10 Tue 19 Aug 2025 08:26AM UTC
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Vethikatrixie (Guest) on Chapter 14 Sun 14 Sep 2025 03:35PM UTC
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Emulea on Chapter 14 Sun 14 Sep 2025 07:48PM UTC
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