Chapter 254

Chapter 254

The pop-up in front of me was still spitting bits of glitter and confetti at me. It was completely surreal, but that aside, the contents of the pop-up were the real problem.

That’s it? What is that supposed to mean? I felt like someone had smacked me over the back of my head. Of course, I had wanted to put an end to this nonsense, living with the constant threat of dying should I fail to become an idol within a year.

But the timing… and this message… Is this some kind of joke?

“What the hell is this?”

The system had shown me that I’d met Park Moondae, and then my life after I stopped trying for the civil service exam, neither of which I had any memory of. Then I’d witnessed something completely nuts at the end of that vision. But now, the whole ordeal was apparently over, with no rhyme or reason, like the system suddenly just wanted to be rid of me.

“Why did you show me that, anyway?”

If not for that goddamned vision, I would have been pretty happy with my success and able to go on with my life. Did my previous life not matter because Gunwoo had already given up on living it? Was I expected to just live as Moondae now?

“Where did the original Moondae go?”

I had no clue where the original had gone. And what about the Gunwoo I’d seen in the Ryus’ home video? The Reveal the Truth button had cleared up absolutely nothing, and I couldn’t understand what had happened. Nothing about the pop-up changed, however, despite my many questions. I sighed.

Fine. Instead of shouting stupidly at this hologram, I would start by figuring out where I stood now. Taking a deep breath, I began reading through the pop-up a little more closely. I began with the title, which was the first that I’d been given.

[Title: The Successful (Idol)]

- You have succeeded.

: Status abnormalities permanently disabled

This meant that no more status abnormalities would appear out of nowhere to threaten my sanity. But this was the same system that had thrown many curveballs at me before—in that sense, it couldn’t be fully trusted.

Moving on. There was something else that caught my interest in the rewards tab.

Permanent status window

This probably meant that I would be able to see my stats, as well as other people’s, in the future as well.

“Hmm…” I crossed my arms. Learning this did a lot to cool my head again. Something still didn’t make sense though.

Isn’t giving me permanent access to this too advantageous for me? I had nothing to lose from this arrangement. The stat window was probably the single most useful thing to have at one’s disposal in this industry. With it, I could probably even start my own agency, completely ensured of success.

I had been handed this… supernatural reward, and now everything was apparently over, just like that. There had been no warning, whatsoever. I was upset and wondered if the system wanted to get rid of me, but realistically, this felt more like the system simply considered its services rendered. I’d defeated all the status abnormalities assigned to me, so it had packed its bags and left. It had no obligation to answer my questions or explain why all of this had even happened in the first place.

“Damn it...”

I didn’t know what was going up. I stared at the pop-up hollowly, then lay down.

F*ck it. Whatever. At least I was free of the status abnormalities now. I could live my life however I wanted, without having to worry about an untimely demise. What an amazing prospect.

Despite trying to convince myself to feel this way, the bitter taste in my mouth didn’t ease any. It was a long time before I managed to fall asleep. The damned congratulatory pop-up remained open until morning.

***

With such complicated thoughts filling my head, I found I preferred keeping my hands busy.

“I told you it’s fine, you don’t have to do this!”

“I’m fine with cooking, don’t worry about it.”

I was making seafood and green onion pancakes as well as battered pan-fried meatballs—all in addition to seasoned ribs, which hadn’t originally been part of the plan. Ribs had been included in the variety of meat I’d brought. Both mother and son seemed uncomfortable with their guest taking over the kitchen, but soon relaxed once they’d tasted my food.

“How is it?” I asked.

“It’s good…”

“It’s very good, dear, but you’re still our guest…”

A guest. I realized abruptly that, unlike Bae Sejin, I hadn’t invested in any real estate. The other members hadn’t needed to, since they all had their parents’ homes to return to, but perhaps I would have to start looking for an apartment of my own soon. It seemed as though I would have to continue living in this body, after all. While I felt this was the most reasonable decision, I didn’t really feel like going through with it.

This whole situation is driving me nuts. The most unpleasant aspect was that I knew I was probably being ungrateful for feeling this way given the circumstances.

“Thank you for the food,” I said.

“Don’t worry about the dishes. You can go watch TV now!” Sejin’s mom insisted.

The food had been good, at least, and acceptable as far as a holiday meal went. I was blankly staring at the TV when my phone vibrated.

[Ryu Chungwoo]

He’d said he would ask his clan if they knew anything about Gunwoo.

That was quick. I took the call immediately.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Moondae. You picked up pretty quick.”

I heard the faint sound of a dog barking in the background—that wasn’t important, though. What mattered was what Chungwoo had to report.

“So, regarding this Ryu Gunwoo person, who you saw in the video.”

“Yep.”

“Uh, he hasn’t really been in touch since college.”

Wow. Ryu Chungwoo seemed apologetic that he hadn’t managed to get the person’s number, but this was a big clue all on its own.

That means Ryu Gunwoo in this world went to college, at the very least. I crossed my arms over my chest.

His actions match mine up until that point, at least… I hadn’t kept in contact with my clan after my high school years, during which I’d lived with relatives. Whenever I’d reached out to them, it had filled me with troubling thoughts and feelings.

“I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

“It’s kind of disappointing we weren’t able to find him, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. At least the person I remember is actually real. It’s nice just knowing that. Thanks for looking into it.”

“I only made a phone call.” He continued in a playful tone, “I need to do a better job of repaying you for saving my life.”

Well, all right. If you prefer to think of it that way… I didn’t bother correcting him, and we talked about our holiday a little, then hung up. I decided on my next course of action right away.

“What are you doing?” Sejin asked.

“Mind if I use your laptop?” I said.

It was time to try a different approach. As soon as I’d woken in this body, I’d looked into my original self—that is, Ryu Gunwoo. I’d called my phone number and tried to log into my various web portal accounts, even my university account. This time, I would take the same approach, but from a different angle.

I should look for traces of dead accounts, not active ones. I was hoping to find accounts that I’d already deleted or had become inactive.

The videos from the fancam account that I deleted were still floating around online. I thought of the videos uploaded using the account gun1234, such as the legendary fancam of Youngrin taken on a rainy day. It was the existence of those videos that had given me this new idea.

I opened a search engine and went into the advanced search settings to adjust the date range to a specific time period in the past.

“Hmm…”

After two or three hours of poking around, I had come to a conclusion.

They exist. The accounts that had once belonged to Gunwoo and records of their activity still existed, such as questions that I’d left on a photography community site when I was just starting out as a beginner. It had taken quite some time to locate the old accounts and posts, since I didn’t like to leave traces of myself online, always deleting posts before too long. But searching for them when I knew exactly where to look meant I was able to find them in the end. The only things that had vanished had been all my internet accounts and my phone number. Ryu Gunwoo had vanished from the internet as well as real life the moment I’d entered Park Moondae’s body.

I simply vanished. It was almost supernatural. I sighed and closed the laptop, mentally going over what I’d learned so far. In truth, I’d wondered if maybe this was not the same world I used to live in, and that perhaps Gunwoo just did not exist here, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

This is the same world. The Gunwoo that I’d seen in Chungwoo’s home video and looked up on the internet was me. In the process of returning to the past, I’d become Moondae through unknown means, and Gunwoo had vanished.

As for why this happened… I had no clue. This was natural, since I knew as much as the next person about why people might suddenly be returned to the past. Cheongryeo, who had gone through the same thing before I had, didn’t know either.

Is there nothing I can do to learn more? Would I be forced to remain ignorant, and just go about shopping for a house so I could settle down? An odd sense of emptiness filled me, and I glared down at the closed laptop. Then my phone vibrated. I picked it up without thinking and found dozens of unread messages.

That’s quite a lot. I’d only put my phone down for three hours or so. I started by checking the newer messages first leaving the group chat, which had grown pretty active now that we were all on holiday, for later.

It was Ahyeon.

[Seon Ahyeon: Moondae, how are you doing? My parents were going to text you, but they thought you might find that uncomfortable. I decided to text you instead.]

Ahyeon had sent a long message in which he detailed how his vacation was going, eventually bringing up the group’s future activities. It was just like Ahyeon to send such a long-winded message.

[I think you’re an amazing person, Moondae. If we continue as we have been, I’m sure we’ll be able to make another great album...]

This part bothered me a little, though.

“As we have been…”

I knew that it was just a nice way of wording it, but I found myself reading the message again for some reason. It almost felt like a clue was staring at me in the face. Suddenly, it hit me.

Oh! I get it.

[Hey, thanks for the message. Have a nice Chuseok, and see you back at the dorm.]

After quickly double-checking my response, I locked my phone screen. Sitting on my bed and staring at the wall, I thought deeply.

The way I’ve always done things.

I needed to put aside all unnecessary thoughts, stay calm, and combine everything I knew, purely from interacting with the goddamned status window. The first thing I needed to consider was the daydream I’d had while in my coma.

The system and the status window didn’t function properly during that dream.

- Enjoy your daydream :)

I’d gotten one single message, and then there had been no other functionality, since the achievements weren’t working, either.

But… the draw was still available. Perhaps it was because I’d gotten that pop-up before the dream had started and just not deleted it. And right now, the system was unresponsive in much the same way as it had been in that dream.

The pop-up that I’d set aside for emergencies was still there.

[Pick a legendary trait ☜ Click!]

This was the pop-up I’d gotten after fulfilling a new performance achievement following the online charity concert. Because the draw had worked, even in the daydream, I knew that it would probably work now, too.

Secondly… The next thing to consider was that the status window, which only I could see, wanted me to succeed. Cheongryeo had no status window, and the same probably held true for the old man he had met. I seemed to be the only one who had it, for reasons that were unknown.

And nothing makes this more certain than the trait draws. I didn’t know if there was tampering going on, but I always seemed to draw the trait I needed most—except on a few select occasions.

Time for Yearning and Energy Drink were different. After I’d figured out how the draws worked, I’d wished fervently for those two traits before drawing them. In other words, if I had a specific and powerful wish, I could get what I wanted from the system. This bore scrutiny.

The roulette machine spun, and I made my wish.

I only want one thing… An effect similar to that of a status abnormality reward! Noise and confetti erupted—this was probably the final time I would ever see the roulette. The tiles glowed in a rainbow of colors.

[Trait: “Missions Are My Thing (S)” obtained!]

[Trait: Missions Are My Thing (S)]

- An exchange of equivalents, perfect for someone who enjoys a challenge: you now have access to missions.

There we go! I knocked my head against the wall, relieved.

A new pop-up appeared in front of me.

[New mission!]

Goal: daesang

Mission deadline: D-___

Reward: ______

Penalty: ______

Raising my head, I looked at the hologram. Perhaps because this was a trait, not a status abnormality, the degree of freedom the mission offered was on another level.

“Good.”

I filled in the due date first, giving myself five hundred days.

[Exceeding D-365 will enhance the penalty.]

Are you kidding me? This is a daesang we’re talking about, and there are only three months left in the current year. What matters here is the reward. I couldn’t choose anything that wasn’t specific, like the truth or the reason. I had to keep all the times the system had let me down in mind. But something more specific, like: an explanation about why I am in this body, and how it happened, wasn’t an option, either. I ran out of space before I could type it all out.

Hilarious. I grinned and crossed my arms. I would have to take a different approach. There was someone who would be very helpful to talk to regarding everything that was going on—someone I could not locate.

“A conversation… with Park Moondae.”

What do you say to that?

Reward: A conversation with Park Moondae

I managed to input this just fine, and the penalty was abruptly filled in automatically.

Penalty: Deletion of status window

“Whoa.”

So I’m betting the status window as collateral? I erased the text in the reward tab and tried inputting something like “max dancing stat.” The penalty was a hit to my dancing stat.

So it requests something equivalent. This meant speaking with Park Moondae was a powerful enough reward that failing the mission would require that I lose the status window forever.

“This is it.”

The way forward couldn’t be clearer. I input “A conversation with Park Moondae” again. When I pressed confirm, I got an unfamiliar pop-up window.

[Confirm?]

[Y / N]

“Yes.”

I was going to secure this reward.