HACKED 25

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Hey, are you not checking your messages?

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Are you away from your keyboard????

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : UserMyeong808?!

…Hmm.

I should probably answer for now.

<UserMyeong808> : yeah

<UserMyeong808> : meow

“…Mr. Myeong?”

There I was, tapping the terminal’s keypad with an expressionless face. Chirpy, watching from the side, looked at me as if I were the world’s biggest madman. Well, of course, because Chirpy could see the contents of the messages I was writing.

‘Chirpy is… ignore.’

Just endure it with pure spite. This is the Compiler you chose. Actually, I guess you didn’t exactly choose me.

On the other hand, Mountain Hero, who was sitting slanting on a sofa a short distance away, was indifferent to whatever I was doing. He wasn’t wearing the overcoat-like outfit from when I first saw him, but was dressed in a loose black short-sleeved T-shirt. On top of that, he was barefoot, dragging around some black slippers with a scuff-scuff sound.

If the comfortably dressed Hwarang gave off the vibe of a model who looked good without trying, Mountain Hero—even though he was dressed just as casually—well. To put it nicely, he looked like someone in a physical labor profession; to put it bluntly, he looked like someone from the underworld.

If you put sunglasses on him now, a gold necklace, and maybe a Hawaiian shirt… he’d look very much like a total thug. But the kind of thug who isn’t some low-level punk shaking down people on the street, but the type where if you get caught, everything from your property to your organs gets cleaned out… anyway, that’s roughly the vibe.

He was doing something else with a disinterested attitude. However, even if he was stretched out like a cat basking in the sun, his gaze was tenaciously following me while pretending not to. Those yellow pupils flashing beneath long, languidly lowered eyelashes.

I felt like if I even tried to leave this room or attempt to log out, that damn status abnormality would activate again immediately. I feigned ignorance and focused only on the terminal.

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Oh, hello~

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Your nickname felt a bit like a Mister’s

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : But the way you talk is so

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Cute lololol

Like a Mister? I actually am a Mister. If a man is thirty when rounded up, he’s basically a Mister, whatever.

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Can I call you Mr. Myeong?

<UserMyeong808> : y

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : thanks lolol

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Please call me En-jang too~ lolol

Seeing how he’s chatting away excitedly by himself even though I’m being consistently brief… he really seems like a real user.

For the modern people who forget the previous content even after just a few chapters, I will quickly summarize the story so far. Titled, “Previously on <The Hacked Game Account Has Returned>.”

Does it sound like a meta-commentary? Don’t worry about it. It must be your imagination.

I was playing a mobile game called <No Lifer>. Then one day, my account was hacked and flew away. And then another day, for unknown reasons, I was possessed by the world inside the game.

…That is the three-line summary of what I’ve experienced. Writing it out like this, it really is absurd how much it sounds like the opening of a web novel. In any case.

One question arises here.

Then what happened to the other users who were playing that game? What about the developers and operators?

It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about this problem. To be precise, it occurred to me as soon as I was possessed by this world. If I was possessed by my own account, what state are the millions of other accounts in right now?

However, not to mention Chirpy, every Incarnation I met while rolling through hell here didn’t say a single word about the existence of other players.

It didn’t seem like they were intentionally avoiding or hiding it. It’s more like they weren’t even thinking about it at all.

Furthermore, the testimony of the Incarnations said they had been trapped for a long time in this place that was no different from a giant tomb or ruins. Summing up those testimonies, it would be correct to see this Pantheon itself as a separate dimension isolated from other worlds, a state where one could neither enter nor leave.

In other words, ‘This space itself is a “closed dimension,” or to use mystery novel terminology, a “closed circle”—in short, a “locked room.” And I just so happened to have the bad luck to drop right into this isolated Pantheon.’

…That was the primary conclusion I reached.

To give an easy-to-understand example, it’s like this. It’s an online game, but the internet connection was cut, so it became a single-player state.

I can view my status window or inventory, and I can walk around inside my housing map. But I can’t move to a multiplayer map, and obviously, the message function doesn’t work, and checking notices or communities is also impossible.

‘…That’s how it should have been.’

So why am I getting messages from this guy <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>? That would mean my entire conclusion was wrong.

Therefore, a new conclusion. I suddenly fell into a game and am experiencing a thriller where my life is on the line in real time, but other users are enjoying the game perfectly fine?

That makes me extremely pissed off, but the solution to break through this situation is simple. I just have to ask that user for help.

All I have to do is ask them to report it to the operators and the police respectively. Tell the operators to forcibly block my account’s access, and tell the police my home address in reality.

If I’m lying flat on my bed when the police arrive, then I just fainted or saw a hallucination while asleep, and if I’m not there…. well, the situation would flow into a bit of an unrealistic phase, but… well, the South Korean police, who boast excellent investigative power, would handle it somehow.

But something felt off. It didn’t feel like things would flow that optimistically.

Then again, has my life ever gone the way I wanted? If it had, I wouldn’t have been abandoned in front of an orphanage as soon as I was born, and I wouldn’t have ended up with the not-even-funny name Yeo Myeong just because the orphanage director set my birthday as August 8th when filing my birth registration.

Dimensional collision. Dimensional boundary. Dimensional merging…

I repeated the unfamiliar words in my head several times. Somewhere I couldn’t quite pinpoint felt ominous.

<UserMyeong808> : but

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Yes Mr. Myeong! ^^

<UserMyeong808> : what is dimensional merging?

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Huh?

<UserMyeong808> : iddk

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : You’re joking, right?

<UserMyeong808> : n

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : No

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Do you really not know?

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : There’s no way you don’t know????

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : It’s been a while since the dimensional collision phenomenon started…

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : The Narrative Compilation Union even called for a general assembly of all Compilers and held a meeting. It was mandatory attendance, so you absolutely had to come.

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> : Have you not been appointed for very long? Still, doesn’t the Union provide mandatory training during new recruit orientation?

‘Assembly? Meeting? New recruit? Orientation? What the hell is all that.’

Things like the “Narrative Compilation Union” or “Compiler” do exist in <No Lifer>. But those are strictly game settings. No matter how seriously you talk about such things, it’s nothing more and nothing less than being treated as a high-level, hyper-fixated otaku who can’t distinguish between reality and fiction.

But what is this guy saying right now? As if he were someone who had actually experienced all of this.

“I’m seriously going crazy.”

All sorts of thoughts tangled in my head. My head began to ache naturally, so I closed my eyes and roughly swept back my bangs.

“Why? Who’s making you go crazy?”

A low-pitched voice drifted over from behind. Simultaneously, a firm arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me in.

“…”

Scared me. All the downy hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Come to think of it, my shirt still had a hole blown through it exactly in the shape San Gun had torn. My solar plexus—that is, the bare skin of my lower chest and upper abdomen—was fully visible. This isn’t even a crop top. How embarrassing.

With my other hand not holding the terminal, I tried hard to pull down the torn hem. Though it wasn’t of much use.

If only there were clothes here…. I don’t know if there are clothes in a place that lacks even basic daily necessities, but anyway. I desperately want to change. I hate having become an unintentional sexy Yeo Myeong so much.

“I asked who’s making you go crazy, Myeong. Shall I kill them?”

“It’s not just one or two people, and that includes you as well. Are you going to commit suicide?”

“Sure. If my master wants it.”

“Ah, okay.”

“But if that happens, you have to die with me too.”

“Usually lines like this belong to either the horror or romance genre, but in this case, it’s probably horror.”

“Why? Wasn’t that a bit romantic just now?”

“Has all the romance in the world frozen to death. I just can’t understand the thousand-year-old geezer sentiment. And I’m working, so don’t interfere.”

My head was already throb-throbbing because of that guy <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>’s messages, and this attempted murderer… since he’s a tiger, he’s technically a “beom” in another sense too. Yes, even this damn attempted murderer is hanging around in front of my eyes, contributing to my stress.

“I’m bored.”

Mountain Hero constantly interfered with me like a cat prowling and getting on top of a butler’s computer keyboard. I pushed him away while groaning. Of course, since I was no match for him in strength, it was less of a push and more of just placing my palms against him.

“Go eat some Churu or something.”

“Churu? What is that?”

I said it without much thought and then realized my mistake a moment late. I had forgotten because the Incarnations were all so strangely familiar with modern culture. No matter how much they knew, they surely wouldn’t know specific brand names.

“Pretend you didn’t hear it. It was a joke.”

“I don’t know what it is, but give it to me.”

“I said it was a joke. I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then something else.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Bullocho-Imugi-Samjok-o-Haetae-Kirin-Deopbap.”

“…”

I took my eyes off the terminal and quietly raised my head to look at Mountain Hero. Without a single change in expression, he corrected himself.

“I was joking, too.”

I’m one thing, but that guy’s character is really bizarre too.

“If you’re really that bored, would you mind bringing me a change of clothes?”

“Clothes? You need new clothes? Top, bottom?”

“Wouldn’t I obviously need a top since you’re the one who wrecked it? Do you not see this tattered hole? I made it so big there’s no way you can’t see it?”

Mountain Hero stared at me intently, and then did something unexpectedly sudden. He reached out and placed his hand against my clearly exposed bare skin.

Whoa, holy shit. Scared me. I thought my heart was getting pierced again…. No, wait. What is this guy doing?

“Myeong, you should gain some weight. Your chest was almost there but gave up.”

“Are you crazy? This is sexual harassment. You crazy beast, seriously, just stop!”

Chirpy, who had been holding his breath at a distance to avoid him and me, muttered.

“You two, in a certain sense, really are in sync…”

Those words collapsed the final bastion in my mind. I threw the terminal and stood up abruptly.

“What? You bastard, I went through all that hell to save you. Come here. I’m going to tear those shitty wings apart.”

“Ack! No, Mr. Myeong, I spoke out of turn. So-sorry…. Mister Mountain Hero! Please save me! Mr. Myeong is trying to kill me!”

My anger, which had been raging wildly, only subsided after Mountain Hero found a T-shirt similar to the one he was wearing from somewhere and handed it to me.