HACKED 69

On some days, the Compiler stayed much longer than usual. It would be from after the sun went down until before the next day dawned. Throughout all of <Mountain Hero>’s memories, it was the first time they had been together for so long.

The simple tasks he always performed were finished in an hour. Even things like Incarnation Descent, Narrative Restitution, and facility upgrades took two or three hours at most to complete. For the remaining time, the Compiler just stayed in the central command room. Keeping <Mountain Hero> standing there, he poked at him idly. He learned for the first time that the Compiler, whom he had thought was a formless lump of light, possessed an ability like ‘poking’.

Poke, poke, poke.

The Compiler touched <Mountain Hero> near his shoulder several times. It was fascinating, though he didn’t know the principle behind how he could feel the sensation of being poked from the empty air. Even if it was called poking, it didn’t hurt; it was at the level of a young puppy without teeth giving a little nip. It was just a bit strange.

“What are you doing.”

Poke…

“I don’t know what it is, but stop it.”

<Mountain Hero> waved his hands around in the air. At that, the frequency of the poking decreased significantly.

Poooke…

“I said stop.”

The Compiler stopped poking. For some reason, he seemed to have become a bit dejected.

‘This fellow, why is he discouraged again. Is he a sunfish?’

<Mountain Hero> sighed. The Master, whom he had considered a vastly distant existence, was beginning to feel like a weak-hearted, high-maintenance mutt…

‘If I call him a sunfish, he’ll probably get even more discouraged.’

Would he only get discouraged? He might flee again, leaving behind only the text ‘Logging out…’. <Mountain Hero> suppressed his temper. It was a remarkable amount of patience for him.

Eventually, he dragged over any nearby chair and plopped down.

“Fine, fine. Poke me or not, do as you please.”

The Compiler had no reaction for a moment. Whether he was hesitating, a faint ripple brushed over the hologram. Seeing that, he found it even more absurd. I even set the stage for him to do as he pleases, so why is he acting like that?

‘What a hopeless, glass-hearted jerk…’

While sitting crookedly in the chair, <Mountain Hero> fell into a somewhat out-of-the-blue thought. Was that ridiculous name, <User Myeong 808>, the Compiler’s real name?

‘No way. It couldn’t be.’

Just as other Incarnations did, <Mountain Hero> also had a real name he had never revealed to anyone. And if his own real name had been something like that, he would have wanted to bite his tongue. It wasn’t some hangover cure; just what kind of sensibility was that?

No, maybe it was correct. Perhaps trends had changed and that kind of name had become the mainstream these days. After all, so much time had passed.

There was a time when <Mountain Hero> was active in reality, not just in legends or folk tales. A time when the people feared Ho-hwan as much as pestilence or war, and refrained from going out on night roads for fear of being attacked by a tiger. They feared and revered him so much that they even avoided mentioning the word tiger directly, referring to him indirectly as ‘Mountain Master’, ‘San Gun’, and so on.

However, times have changed now. As civilization developed, beasts were no longer such fearsome objects to humanity. Especially on the Korean Peninsula, the population plummeted through the harmful animal extermination projects during the Japanese colonial period.

He was no longer an object of terror, but a spectacle one could see anytime by going to a zoo. At the same time, he was a faded existence appearing only in folk tales.

‘…I am still alive.’

Still breathing and living on this land, seeing the present with my own two eyes.

Boing!

His contemplations were cut off midway. Along with an unnecessarily cute sound effect, something appeared in the air and fell into <Mountain Hero>’s lap.

“What’s this?”

He caught it in a daze. Even while he didn’t understand the reason, his reflexes worked faithfully.

What had come into his hand was a placard about the size of two palms. Lively typography filled a rectangular background.

Sorry (;´ ਊ `;)

“Really, what is this.”

<Mountain Hero> was lost for words. Even though the Compiler hadn’t used ‘skip’ this time.

˙✧˖°🎮 ⋆｡˚

In this Pantheon, there are things called housing items. It is a term referring to small furniture or decorations used when decorating the interior of the Pantheon. There are stickers, posters, banners, cotton dolls in the shape of helper fairies, and even ridiculous headbands intended to be placed on Incarnations.

To be honest, <Mountain Hero> didn’t know much about housing items and felt no need to know. Because the Compiler himself had no interest in decorating and shoved housing items into the warehouse as soon as he got them, and chores like organizing the warehouse were not the job of a 5-star Incarnation like him.

However, now, housing items that some diligent and meticulous Incarnation must have organized… were being teleported by the Compiler’s power and piling up one by one on the floor of the central command room.

“You always come at such a late hour; why don’t you sleep at night? Is this the only time you can find? Do you have no other work?”

Yes (๑•̀ – •́)و

“You’re saying you can’t find time?”

No ( 乂˙-˙)

“Then what. You’re saying you have no other work?”

Yes (๑•̀ – •́)و

Boing! Boing! Small placards fell in succession onto <Mountain Hero>’s thighs along with the sound effects. The system names for these placards were as follows:

[“Let’s attach a cute speech bubble to the main Incarnation!” Emoticon (4) Affirmation]

[“Let’s attach a cute speech bubble to the main Incarnation!” Emoticon (5) Negation]

For reference, the ‘Sorry’ placard the Compiler first threw was [“Let’s attach a cute speech bubble to the main Incarnation!” Emoticon (12) Apology]. To think housing items could be utilized this way. One would have to call it creative.

‘My Master was an unemployed loafer with his days and nights flipped.’

At any rate, <Mountain Hero> gained a not-so-welcome realization. However, he didn’t feel bad. Was it because the Compiler, who used to just toss out businesslike commands and leave, was talking about himself for the first time?

He had had conversations with the Compiler several times before. Even if they were called conversations, they weren’t actual exchanges of stories. It was merely that the Compiler returned monotonous reactions through the hologram to his one-sided utterances.

Each time, he felt an indescribable sense of dissonance. Even as he spoke, it felt as if he were reciting lines that were already fixed, and it even felt as if those words weren’t fully reaching the Compiler. He felt frustrated, as if blocked by an invisible wall.

But now, he didn’t feel that dissonance. He felt that now, he might finally be able to have a conversation worthy of the name. He pulled his chair closer to the screen.

“I’ve been curious for a while. Is your real name truly that? User Myeong 808? Mr. Yoo?”

No ( 乂˙-˙)

“Then what is it.”

<Mountain Hero> waited with his arms crossed. But no answer came back.

“I asked what it is.”

Only after some more time passed did a single placard drop. It was the item [“Let’s attach a cute speech bubble to the main Incarnation!” Emoticon (9) Dot-dot-dot].

… （ ¯꒳¯̥̥ ）

The thought occurred that the counterpart might be unable to answer. Or perhaps he simply wasn’t doing so. There are many reasons. There might be a restriction preventing him from revealing his real name, just like himself, or he might not want to reveal it, and so on.

“Fine. Act like I didn’t ask.”

Just then, things like coated cards suddenly showered down upon his head. They hit his head and shoulders one by one before falling. Since they were smaller than A4 paper, it didn’t hurt, but mentally it was extremely displeasing.

There wasn’t even just one card. Because four cards fell one by one with a time delay, he was suddenly hit four times in a row.

“…”

<Mountain Hero> remained silent in that exact posture. He was busy suppressing the harsh words that surged up. He slowly reached out and picked up the cards one by one.

[“Let’s hang my own phrase on the Pantheon wall!” Alphabet card for garland]

D

A

W

N

“…This English is supposed to mean your name?”

Yes (๑•̀ – •́)و

“Were you a foreigner?”

No ( 乂˙-˙)

“How can a Korean name be in this state? You said this was your real name.”

… （ ¯꒳¯̥̥ ）

<Mountain Hero> tossed out several more questions after that. However, placards engraved with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, and ‘…’ merely appeared in turn.

Because the counterpart’s answers were extremely limited, there was little information to be gained. His interest slowly cooled. Since no new questions flew from him, the Compiler also stopped answering at some point.

[Do you really want to quit? Yes / No]

A hologram window rose up. It seemed the Compiler intended to leave.

‘Right, it’s about time he left. He’s been here several times longer than usual.’

With his head, he thought of it as no big deal. But his heart was different.

Once the Compiler leaves, he must now begin the indefinite waiting again. Pouring one-sided attachment and hatred alone toward a formless counterpart…

“Are you leaving now?”

<Mountain Hero> asked, trying his best to act as if it were nothing. Did a sense of regret find its way into his eyes without him realizing it?

Poke.

The Compiler lightly poked his cheek. And finally, he tossed down two placards.

[“My idol, my child, and naturally my Incarnation” Fan-girling placard (1) Ultimate Bias]

💗You are my bias💗

[“Let’s attach a cute speech bubble to the main Incarnation!” Emoticon (20) Fighting]

Cheer up! (૭ ᐕ)૭

[>Yes< / No]

[Logging out…]

The lights on the panel went out. Inside the central command room became perfectly silent. All that remained was <Mountain Hero> and the items fallen haphazardly at his feet.

“…”

He looked down silently, then picked up one of the piled-up placards.

💗You are my bias💗

His hand, calloused with protruding knuckles like those of a swordsman, traced over the clearly engraved heart.