HACKED 65

Around a large table sat various individuals of different ages, appearances, and attire.

For starters, Hwarang sat leaning back indifferently against his chair, both hands shoved into the pockets of his zip-up hoodie. Look at this bastard—crossing his legs without a shred of manners. Who would ever think he was the Incarnation of the Five Commandments for Secular Life?

The twins, as always, were chatting amongst themselves with expressionless faces, their lips barely moving. Two voices, identical in tone and speech pattern, chirped incessantly at the same time, making it impossible to tell who was saying what.

And as for what San Gun was doing…

“Book-scrap. Does this grow back if it gets torn?”

“Lord <Mountain Hero>? Why my wing all of a sudden…”

“I’m curious. Let’s just try tearing it once.”

Supporting his chin with one hand, he was harassing a passing Chirpy with the other. Today, too, the land of peace is full of secondhand chaos.

“Hello. It is nice to meet you…”

In the middle of them sat a lone girl in a school uniform, wearing an awkward expression. She had changed out of the clothes I gave her, but instead, bandages were wound tightly around her injured spots.

The girl was an Incarnation I met by chance while wandering the hallways looking for a place to smoke alone. Her name was <Sickly Model Student>, and since she wasn’t an Incarnation I specifically remembered, I looked through the list on my terminal later. She was a ‘spare card’ I had acquired just before and never bothered to level up.

Anyone who plays gacha games is bound to pile up spare cards. The more of a heavy user you are, the more insanely they stack. Every time a new event drops, you pull the gacha at least a few hundred times, or as many as several thousand.

No matter how much of a ‘pity’ system exists, the desired results among those countless pulls are few enough to count on one hand. Since there are also ‘off-rate’ pulls—so-called ‘pick-piercings’—you can’t just rely on the pity system.

The rest are just duds. The number of characters and items you’ll never use increases beyond count.

At least I tended to clean things up periodically, so even with a large number of held Incarnations, I didn’t usually let it exceed 200. I’m the type who can’t stand it when slots are full of Incarnations I’ll never raise and the scroll goes down forever.

Compared to some, I’m a saint. There are plenty of users who don’t organize their inventory until their slots are long full and even their mailbox hits 999+.

Furthermore, the acquisition date for <Sickly Model Student> was the day right before I quit the game. It seemed the account was hacked after merely receiving event rewards but before organizing them. To think a 1-star Incarnation I hadn’t managed to grind up back then is sitting across from me now. It’s a truly ironic twist of fate.

If I had been a little more diligent then, this girl might not be here now. Whether I pressed a single button on my phone screen or not… By that tiny difference, that one thing… this girl became able to exist as a physical entity with a sense of self.

“H-hello…?”

Of course, the only one feeling awkward was the model student. No one else cared in the slightest whether a strange member joined or whether she introduced herself with pitiful timidity.

“Gah! If you grab it like that, my wing… Ah, let go, you mustn’t. Choke!”

“Did I say I’d kill you? I’m just seeing if it grows back. If it regenerates infinitely, we won’t have to pay for paper.”

“What on earth would Lord Mountain Hero need paper for!”

“To let our Myeong do some coloring. He looks bored.”

“Pardon? Mr. Myeong?”

Chirpy whipped around to look at me. I could read resentment in those small, moist eyes.

‘No, I never asked for that kind of thing…’

I’m not a psychopath; why would I tear off Chirpy’s wing to do coloring? I felt extremely wronged. I immediately protested.

“I have never been bored. To be honest, since coming here, every single moment has been a dopamine overdose, to the point where even as a modern person whose brain is pickled in dopamine, it’s a bit much.”

“Then why did you go out alone earlier without saying a word to me? Bringing back some brat, too.”

He really says whatever he wants right in front of the person involved. The model student’s face, having suddenly suffered this verbal abuse, turned white and then blue. Beyond being a psychopath, I had suddenly become a guy with a kid in tow.

“It’s already a waste not to have you all to myself; just how many more people do I have to share you with?”

San Gun asked, narrowing his eyes as if frustrated. It sounded like a child’s tantrum, yet also like a soul-shattering cry. The answer came not from me, but from Hwarang.

“Could you even have him to yourself if you tried? And share what? Don’t speak as if you’re being generous.”

‘Are these bastards… currently having a dispute over my ownership?’

It was so absurd I couldn’t even get angry. Attendants fighting over their master as if I’m their property—truly amazing. Now then, who is the master here?

Hwarang glared gloomily at San Gun with his characteristic snake-like eyes. San Gun, on the other hand, didn’t even pretend to see him. He simply tossed out a word half-heartedly, as if dealing with a worthless, annoying nuisance.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Stop acting so innocent in front of the Boss. I’m starting to feel disgusted. Acting all devoted when you were the only one taking it easy while everyone else was working their asses off.”

“You incompetent bastards who can’t do anything but wag your tongues. Maybe I should have just let you all die.”

The face of the model student, caught between these two murderous hulks, was turning blue by the second. I understand. This must be her first time seeing such a sight.

‘Welcome to the Pantheon of cold-hearted bastards…’

I only invited her to have a meal. At this rate, it looked like she’d get indigestion before swallowing a single spoonful. I felt genuinely sorry.

Fortunately, the touch-and-go, hair-trigger atmosphere didn’t last long. It was thanks to the arrival of the final member.

“I am sorry for being late. You have been waiting.”

The door opened, and a woman in ancient dress with long hemlines entered. It was <The Drum that Sounds on its Own>, Ja-myeong-go. The horrific injury that had sliced her entire torso diagonally had healed without a trace. Her clothes, which had been so soaked in blood that the original color was unrecognizable, were also cleanly restored.

I had already heard the news through Chirpy that she had fully recovered. However, this was the first time I was seeing her in a healthy state.

“Thank you. I do not know how to repay this kindness.”

Ja-myeong-go gave a soft smile, then clasped her hands and bowed deeply from the waist with an elegant movement.

‘Is this something to be thanked for? I only did what obviously had to be done…’

“I didn’t do anything.”

“To say you did nothing. You repaired the recovery room. You could have used resources on other more urgent places.”

“…”

“I look forward to your continued guidance. I shall devote this body to being the messenger who warns of danger before anyone else.”

Listening to that noble speech after San Gun and Hwarang’s bickering brought an indescribable sense of moved emotion. I even felt humbled. I almost clapped without realizing it.

“Oh, you’re finally here. You’ve come at the perfect time! We just finished preparing the meal. Please, sit down.”

Chirpy flew in, flapping his wings with a picnic basket hung around his neck. The basket, lined with a white cloth, was filled with well-baked bread. I wondered if that small, fist-sized body could actually carry the basket, but his wingbeats were energetic as if he felt no weight at all.

It’s the first mealtime since falling into this strange dimension. That bread? It’s one of the items we thoroughly packed from the library next door.

The twins, who had been sitting on chairs that were tall compared to their height while dangling their feet, hopped down lightly.

“I want to carry food too!”

“Yeah, me too!”

“This is exciting.”

“It smells delicious.”

Those kids returned just as quickly as they had dashed out. The table was filled with plates. There was butter and jam to go with the bread, salad, fruit, cheese, and even freshly grilled steak.

Everything is perfect, but the one thing missing is Korean food. During the next dimensional merger, I really hope I run into a Compiler who eats white rice and kimchi. I’ll raid them for every single grain of rice and particle of red pepper flakes.

I must have been absentmindedly preoccupied with the food on the table. I didn’t even notice San Gun leaning over to put his lips to my ear. His low voice vibrated from a distance so close it almost touched my auricle.

“It’s a thief.”

“…!”

I flinched reflexively and looked at him. Meeting my startled eyes, San Gun chuckled undignifiedly.

“A rice thief.”

A beat later, I realized he was making a joke. Is he really dropping a dad joke like this right now?

“…Did your dignity pass away?”

“Myeong, your tone is amazing. Not a trace of intelligence or refinement.”

Hwarang nodded seriously in agreement with his words.

“Indeed… The Boss’s face says it all.”

“Why, what. What’s wrong with my face!”

“Your face is devoid of any signs of learning.”

“Ah, it is. It truly is.”

Those two have a terribly bad relationship, but the only time their opinions align is when they’re teasing me.

“I object!”

I can tolerate people badmouthing my Incarnations, but I cannot tolerate them badmouthing me. I slammed the table with indignation.

“Why are you being cowards and telling the truth? Win fairly and squarely with agitation and fabrication.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Myeong. Stop pointing fingers at the table and pick up your spoon. Everyone is just waiting for you to lift your utensils.”

“…Yes.”

At those words, I obediently picked up my spoon. I almost committed a heinous act of workplace harassment by preventing everyone from eating.

The twins immediately took a large piece of bread each and began munching away. Chirpy also hugged his candy jar and tossed in several pieces at a time. Even Ja-myeong-go focused solely on the meal with a faint smile.

Only the model student opposite us was frozen stiff and dazed. She flickered her lips and finally managed to form words.

“Ma… Ma, were you the Master?”

What’s wrong with her all of a sudden?