HACKED 47

An elderly middle-aged man dressed in a bizarre outfit was dragged before me. He was being held by both arms by two children who looked exactly alike.

“We brought him!”

“He was all alone in a completely empty library.”

“Is this the right person?”

“The person with presbyopia!”

“Right, presbyopia!”

The children, exchanging words as if playing ping-pong, giggled, seemingly finding something very amusing. Sitting on the sofa in front of them and watching the scene, I felt a strange sensation.

‘Why does this layout look exactly like a scene where captives are being offered up to an enemy general?’

I had simply instructed them to bring <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>. I swear I added no unnecessary words.

However, the twins naturally escorted him as if dragging in prey. Upon reaching right in front of me, they even pressed down on his shoulders to force him to his knees.

“Hmm… right. Good job.”

Since I couldn’t scold the children, I simply commended their hard work for the time being. The twins smiled brightly and nodded, but they did not release the man’s arms.

“You can let go of him now.”

The twins let go without a single change in their expressions.

“Gyah.”

The man fell flat on the floor. He looked like a newborn giraffe. Then, pushing off the floor with effort, he managed to lift his upper body. He couldn’t even look at me properly and trembled violently.

‘I think there’s a misunderstanding. It’s not like that. I didn’t order this. I don’t have such a broken personality that I would engage in tea-bagging.’

“Excuse me. You are Presbyopia-Something-Nim, right?”

“Pardon? Ah, yes, yes, yes…”

Since he was dressed in a strange outfit like a fantasy-style cosplay and clearly looked Western, I was worried that we might not be able to communicate, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Then, are you <UserMyeong808>… Mr. Myeong? Are you Mr. Myeong?”

“That’s right. It’s me.”

“……”

The man glanced up at me and then wore an expression filled with betrayal.

“Liar! You said your hands and feet were small. You said you were a cute newbie.”

“Well, yeah. That’s how it turned out.”

“You’re not small or cute at all…”

He dropped his head and fell into despair. I remained silent for a moment in front of him.

‘What is this? This sudden personal attack. Didn’t this Mister just get utterly crushed and captured by me? Can’t he read the room?’

“This bastard?”

A black and yellow head suddenly popped out from above my field of vision. This sudden outburst, which I can never get used to no matter how many times I experience it. It is Mister San Gun.

He was sprawled out unable to even sit until a moment ago, but it seems he has regained some energy now. Despite the fact that his fatal injury—his severed leg—had not yet healed, he stood behind me as if protecting me.

San Gun leaned his upper body over the back of the sofa I was sitting on and glared at the man.

“What did you just say? You have quite a lot to say to my master for someone who got trashed?”

He seems to be calling out <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>’s rude attitude. As expected. Having an old-timer on my side can be so reassuring at times like this. Go, San Gun-mon.

“He’s cute, you bastard. Huh? He’s nothing but cute.”

The hand I had been using to hold the sofa armrest momentarily lost its strength.

“…Ah, it’s that part?”

“If he’s not cute, then who in the world is!”

San Gun vented his temper as much as possible and made a protest—no, a scene. I wiped my dry face with one hand while pushing his arm away with the other.

“Please leave. Elder.”

“Did you really get presbyopia? Look again properly. Is he cute or not? If you say he’s not cute one more time, I’m going to beat the hell out of you.”

“Ah, come on. Please just go. You’re not even feeling well.”

After a brief scuffle, I repelled the Line 1 crazy… no, the Pantheon crazy person. In that short interval, many things disappeared. My authority and dignity as a winner, my weighty first impression, human rights, things like that.

“Don’t mind that Incarnation just now. Anyway, let’s talk for a bit. Compiler to Compiler.”

“Talk about what? I’ve already lost, and Mr. Myeong has become the winner. My Incarnations, from the strongest 1st unit to the 2nd, the 3rd… even the reserve units, have all died. I’ve lost ownership of my Pantheon, so the moment Mr. Myeong gives the expulsion order, I’ll be kicked out. I’ll have to return to the Union empty-handed and receive basic training all over again. Is there anything more you have to say to me here?”

The kill count for the Gumiho’s status ailment, ‘A Thousand Livers,’ was already 61 when I checked it. He couldn’t have filled all 61 by killing my Incarnations. In the first place, I don’t have that many Incarnations.

Then where did the number 61 come from? Most likely, <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>’s Incarnations accounted for a significant portion of it.

“Just what on earth happened in our Pantheon… No, that’s in the past so let’s move on for now. Let me ask you just one thing.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is this not a game to you?”

“Pardon?”

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> wore a bewildered expression.

“A game? What game? What are you saying is a game?”

“This world right now, and everything. It’s inside a game called <No Lifer>… right?”

“No, ra? Lifer? What is that?”

His reaction was so nonchalant that it almost felt innocent. This time, it was my turn to be speechless. So many questions and so much confusion bloomed all at once that, instead, no words would come out.

In front of me, who remained silent, <IsItPresbyopiaCrap> rolled his eyes here and there. I could practically hear the sound of him racking his brain. Eventually, he seemingly thought of something and flinched in surprise on his own.

“A game… Gasp, are you perhaps talking about that? A-Ah, no way? No matter how my Pantheon was taken… there’s no way you already found the back of the bookshelf? I’ve never leaked the method to open the door, either.”

What is this about now?

“I did play something similar to a game… but it was purely for fun… you understand, right? A Compiler’s job involves so much stress that one needs a place to relieve it. Ah, uh, of course, I feel truly sorry for the sacrificed newbies… P-P-Please just don’t report me to the Union… Since I lost to Mr. Myeong and became a total beggar anyway, I think I’ve paid enough for my crimes…”

The man’s complexion turned pale, and cold sweat poured down his wrinkled forehead. He rambled on to himself for quite a while.

“No, wait! I’m willing to take any other punishment, so anyway, could you at least let me keep my life? As I mentioned in my message earlier, I have a family… At this very moment, my family members are looking only to me with burning hearts…”

It seems like he’s confessing his sins, but honestly, I have no idea what he’s talking about. How am I supposed to understand when he’s talking without any context? I’m not some priest listening to a confession. So, I decided to just say what I wanted to say.

“Mr. Presbyopia.”

“Ye-es, yes?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you would actually exist. I thought I had just connected briefly via a game account, and that essentially, you would exist in reality. I thought that while I ended up like this due to special circumstances… you would just be an ordinary user. But why do you have a physical form?”

“……”

“The fact that you are a living, breathing, speaking, and moving person like this… Ha… I don’t know. I don’t understand it. And what are all these things about receiving training or reporting to the Union?”

“Account? Connection? User?”

In this futile conversation where we only threw question marks at each other without hearing a single proper answer, I felt stifled as if my chest were tight. How could we be talking in the same space and the same language and still fail to communicate like this?

“Ahem, uh… I have absolutely no idea what Mr. Myeong is talking about,”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“From what I hear, it seems you have a rather serious problem of your own… Would you like to go to the Union headquarters together? Since that is the place that manages all Compilers, they might be able to solve Mr. Myeong’s problem.”

“Union headquarters?”

“You know it. The Narrative Compilation Union Headquarters. Since the only place I have left to go after being kicked out of here is the Union anyway, and Mr. Myeong needs help. Since things turned out like this, let’s go together.”

“……”

“And while we’re at it… I would be very grateful if you could escort me to the Union… To be honest, having lost everything I have, I don’t have the confidence to get there safely on my own… Haha. It’s not like Mr. Myeong is going to move alone anyway. You’ll be taking a few Incarnations with you.”

‘So the main point was the latter part.’

Since it’s my first time experiencing a Dimensional Merger, I don’t know what happens to a defeated Compiler. Listening to <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>, it seems like one is stripped of all rights to their Pantheon and kicked out immediately.

According to the settings of <No Lifer>, the Pantheon is a sub-space separated from reality. If one is kicked out of there, I can’t even imagine what will be outside. It would be a relief if I didn’t just fall right into the middle of the sky or the middle of the sea.

I don’t know where this Narrative Compilation Union Headquarters he’s talking about is, but it’s not a particularly losing deal for me. <IsItPresbyopiaCrap> has already lost all his forces and his authority over the Pantheon has been taken. He is no longer a threat to me. Since things have turned out this way, I can just use him as a guide while extracting information from him.

“Well. Sure. How do we get there? To that place called the headquarters.”