novelraw Chapter 31 : What I Believe In Is Only (3)
Chapter 31 : What I Believe In Is Only (3)
Chapter 31: What I Believe In Is Only (3)
Kang Hyunseong and Goeun stepped inside. Every time they walked, the marble let out a crisp, crackling, luminous sound. The texture brushing against the soles of their shoes felt extremely unfamiliar.
‘Landlady, what the hell is going on here?’
‘I’m the one who was hospitalized, you know?’
Not only Goeun, the owner of the place, but Kang Hyunseong as well, who often dropped by Eunko Bar for fun, felt much the same way. Faced with two pairs of eyes demanding an explanation, Lee Taebaek honestly confessed everything that had happened so far.
He spat out only the essentials: the beggar gang that had come knocking in the dead of night, and the fact that he had received proper compensation from them—more precisely, extorted it.
It was a story without much complexity. Well, that was from the narrator’s point of view—mine, anyway.
Even taking that into account, the expressions on their faces grew extremely serious, and pale as well. To put it more visibly, the more the series of events was laid out, the darker the shadow that fell over their faces became.
Even while listening intently with open ears, Kang Hyunseong and Goeun would occasionally glance sideways at each other.
They were reactions you might see when people sat together murmuring while listening to a creepy ghost story. At the same time, it felt like they were cross-verifying the truth of the tale through their gazes.
‘You get it?’
‘Not at all. But somehow, I get it.’
Anyway.
Lee Taebaek’s summary ended just like that.
“That’s how it turned out.”
“Ssssh.”
Kang Hyunseong covered his eyes. The rough texture of his palm pressed over his philtrum and the whole area above it.
Goeun stayed quiet. She was relatively calm, but her slightly dilated pupils reflected her shock.
“…….”
And Lee Taebaek silently observed their reactions. He understood. It was only natural.
After all, it was a flimsy narrative made up only of beginning and end, with the development and climax carved out.
‘It wouldn’t be easy to believe a story left skeletal, with only the start and the finish remaining.’
Rather than dismissing it, Kang Hyunseong and Goeun tried their best to understand. Riding the awkward current, the two of them intertwined their murmured groans like creeping vines.
“I know it sounds absurd, but when has everything in the world ever unfolded neatly according to reason?”
Lee Taebaek brazenly asserted.
“Uh… I mean, Taebaek… maybe a bit more…….”
Watching them exchange looks and exercise their collective intelligence almost made Lee Taebaek feel pitiful.
But that didn’t mean he could confess that the only reason this story barely held together was because his mind was plastered over with buffs and restrictions, did it?
It was an operator-only secret, for one—and more than that, he felt like he’d have to start with an apology first.
[Buffing the caster’s Mental stat.]
From the moment Lee Taebaek parted his lips, he had continuously reinforced [Mental], breathing an unknowable power into his words.
On top of that, with the restriction of ‘only reinforcing Mental,’ he scraped his stats all the way down to the bottom and dragged them up to the maximum.
He had already etched its effectiveness into his eyes by using Jin Sobang of Buntaju District 31 as a test subject. It worked on an opponent of that caliber. Ordinary people wouldn’t have a chance of enduring it.
When it comes to persuading someone, there’s no need for tact, flashy rhetoric, or pathetic excuses.
‘As long as I have a reinforced mind.’
Even a nonsensical story without a shred of plausibility could be transformed into a Lord of the Rings–class epic.
“You understand, right?”
“Uh, uh…….”
When I spoke, they nodded.
That was all there was to it.
‘This buff really is ridiculously broken.’
It wasn’t even a fresh realization.
‘…An ability that shuts down rebuttal.’
Politicians would kill for an ability like that.
Since Lee Taebaek was a hardcore gamer, if I absolutely had to compare it to a game, it would be a skip (skipping supplementary explanation).
Let’s put our hands on our chests and be honest.
Confess to your conscience as fellow Koreans.
Among all players, just how many actually comb through a game’s story line by line?
According to the data, it boils down to ‘ninety-nine out of a hundred players have no interest in tiny letters.’ Statistics don’t lie.
Excluding a handful of text addicts, most players hammer the space bar—tadat!—skipping NPC cries in the blink of an eye—and I, Operator Lee Taebaek, know this all too well.
If you’re curious about the plot, make it a habit to check Kkamu Wiki. It’s not even a joke—if the operator himself forgets sometimes, he actively refers to that place.
And another thing.
You’re in a position where you’re begging someone to take on a quest, and you’re whining at them? How cheeky. You could’ve leveled up twice in that time!
‘…What K-gamers want from most games is the sense of superiority derived from growth and rewards…….’
Dense worldbuilding or a heartstring-tugging story can’t make the other, metaphorical lower half installed in a K-gamer’s brain stand at attention.
At least in Korea, I want to emphasize that story is a matter of taste, not a metric of commercial success.
There’s no need to look far. Lee Taebaek himself agreed vehemently. Before becoming an operator, he had devoted his life to K-games—a crazy K-game addict.
What’s more, he was an operator now. Questioning his subjective view was unacceptable. It was blasphemy.
By nature, a true operator was supposed to shut his ears and bulldoze ahead according to his own convictions!
In a game, the operator was synonymous with a god.
And he wore the face of a kept man.
‘Fuuuck, I’m finally losing it.’
Even as Lee Taebaek’s ego shouted itself hoarse, appealing to reason…… the superego known as the operator account instantly crushed every voice flat.
‘If I lose it, then what.’
What can you even do about it?
It was the influence of the operator account, along with all the various concepts he had acquired up to now. They had turned Lee Taebaek into a shameless operator. Or maybe not.
Of course, a thread-thin sense of conscience did make him feel guilty. It looked as though he had suddenly regressed the intelligence of the two of them to that of infants.
‘Simply for my own convenience.’
Lee Taebaek made a vow to himself. If it wasn’t a situation where he was pressed for time like right now, he would refrain from using this authority on allies whenever possible. Whenever possible.
“…But even so, the Beggars’ Sect aren’t exactly the type to obediently listen. Those guys who sell their pride just to scrape by.”
Kang Hyunseong muttered while scratching between his brows.
This was proof that his overall stats surpassed Jin Sobang’s. Even after evenly mixing buffs and restrictions, it seemed insufficient to break the mental strength of Kang Hyunseong, whose total stats exceeded 30.
‘If I get caught up here, things’ll drag on.’
There was still a lot left on today’s schedule.
I’d been running around outside since dawn, then gone home to catch a brief nap. And just then, it coincided with Goeun’s discharge from the hospital. Any more would be a waste of time.
‘The plan to ask Goeun about the Lilith Order is on hold for now. She might know general information about religion, but there’s no way she’d know much about a new cult.’
That was the conclusion Lee Taebaek had reached over the two days he spent renovating the nearly collapsing Eunko Bar. The money spent on the renovation would be written off as debt for now. That debt would come in handy in the near future.
Besides, Eunko Bar was Goeun’s building and also the place Lee Taebaek relied on to live.
Tearing down the old, shabby interior was a necessary procedure even for the tenant himself.
So he refurbished Eunko Bar at his own discretion. With minimal cost. That was thanks to Narrow-Eyed Man, a subordinate of Jin Sobang, who had introduced a construction company under the Clean Clothes Faction.
Slowly—.
Even so, Kang Hyunseong pressed for further explanation from Lee Taebaek with a simmering gaze.
‘This is awkward.’
Unfortunately, he had no further gift for explanation. In his past life, he’d lived with his nose buried in a monitor, and now his concept had numbed his capacity for empathy—Lee Taebaek’s way with words had dried up completely.
Swoosh.
I pulled a lump of lead from my chest. It was a Hero’s Coin. I pinched it into a circle with my thumb and forefinger.
“……!”
“……!”
At that, the two of them widened their eyes as if on cue. Through the square hole pierced in the Hero’s Coin, I could see their pupils round and contracted.
The situation was at a stalemate. Kang Hyunseong was the first to move his lips.
“T-that can’t be… a Hero’s Coin?”
“And that one’s third grade!”
“Then… does that mean everything you’ve said so far was true? That Buntaju District 31 paid three hundred million in compensation, and that the Law Beggar who came with them personally apologized to you, Taebaek?”
They looked as though they couldn’t believe it even with their own eyes. At the same time, they reached out to touch the Hero’s Coin.
Lee Taebaek allowed their approach without resistance. And the three of our fingers met in midair, with the Hero’s Coin as the medium.
Lee Taebaek didn’t miss that opening.
The moment a ring of light formed in his pupils.
[Nerfing the opponent’s Mental stat.]
[Nerfing the opponent’s Mental stat.]
The two of them grew dazed, as if a grayish-white film had been laid over their retinas. Lee Taebaek spoke in a low voice.
“This should be enough for you to believe me, right?”
“…Uh, uh…….”
Only then did he openly tug up the corners of his mouth in a smile.
Pulling out the Hero’s Coin had been a move made for this purpose.
He used a restricted [Buff] and [Nerf] in tandem.
Even superhumans and mages with stats exceeding 30 had no choice but to have their mental strength crumble like sugar.
In any case, Lee Taebaek had now completely cleared himself of suspicion. While they were still going “uh—,” he collected the Hero’s Coin and brushed himself off as he stood up.
“I’ve got a busy work schedule, so I’ll be going.”
Lee Taebaek turned his back, drawing the wind with him. Just like that, he waved a hand and left Eunko Bar.
Kang Hyunseong came to his senses belatedly and panicked. Color gradually returned to his blurred focus.
“What the hell… shit.”
It felt like waking up from a nap. The memories were definitely there, but the feeling itself had evaporated.
‘So that was it.’
Something clicked for Kang Hyunseong. It must have been the ability that had forced 8th Battalion Deputy James Jevi to his knees.
Kang Hyunseong hastily classified it as ‘Gifted.’ That was because the battalion member Rock also possessed a similar Gifted ability. It was also the reason she constantly wore a mask.
“Hey, what the hell was that?”
“Are you going to keep asking stupid questions?”
Goeun replied with a pipe clenched between her teeth. Then she snapped her fingers and lit the tobacco ash.
“You’re a mage, at least in name.”
“What, is a mage some kind of AI? How would I know everything. Still, if nothing else, it definitely looked like he used a ‘restriction.’”
“Restriction? Did you just say restriction? How could he possibly use a restriction! I badgered you for half a year before I barely managed to grasp the key formula!”
“That’s because you’re you.”
“I’d appreciate it if you understood that depending on your answer, Eunko Bar might get renovated again, my friend.”
Goeun exhaled a long stream of smoke. The smoke screen covered the glaring incandescent lights like a film.
“I told you before, didn’t I. That when I sparred with Lee Taebaek, I fought while placing a restriction on Samādhi Evolution.”
“You did. But what does that have to—.”
At that moment, thunder struck Kang Hyunseong’s mind.
“D-don’t tell me?”
“He learned by watching what I did back then.”
Goeun said as smoke leaked through her teeth.
“Is that even possible……?”
“It converges infinitely close to zero, but it is possible.”
“Hah.”
“Why do you keep sighing. You’re the one who personally pulled Lee Taebaek out of the Brain Prison.”
“Kang Hyunseong, I’ve known him longer than you have. That’s why there’s more for me to be shocked about.”
Kang Hyunseong shot back sulkily and slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his white coat.
“I wanted to personally deliver the reward for sparring with you.”
What Kang Hyunseong pulled out was a cube-shaped wooden box. He slightly lifted the square lid.
Light leaked out through the gap. Inside, a pill wrapped in silk displayed its graceful form. It was a spiritual medicine.
“He’s already a monster in every sense, and on top of that, giving him a spiritual medicine specially bestowed by the Supreme Commander. Does that mean the Supreme Commander intends to deliberately raise Lee Taebaek at the Resistance level?”
“Who knows.”
Kang Hyunseong rubbed the lid for no reason, then quietly closed the wooden box. He slid it to the side.
Swoosh.
Since he himself had to return to headquarters, he asked Goeun to deliver it in his stead.
Goeun nodded. She hooked the tip of her pipe onto the lid of the wooden box and dragged it over.
“By the way, where did Lee Taebaek go?”
“That too… who knows…….”
What if he was out there causing trouble again?
Kang Hyunseong had already given up on stopping Lee Taebaek.
‘Let’s just make trouble only as much as can be cleaned up.’
But as a rule of thumb, battalion members were bound to disappoint their battalion commander—no, their company commander.
In no more than a few days, Kang Hyunseong would retract this offhand remark he had muttered to himself.
Leaving the two behind, Lee Taebaek visited the lowest-tier district. By then, he had set foot in the geographical bottom for two consecutive days.
He did not enter the red-light district. He didn’t want to set foot there, and there was no more information to gain.
The red-light district had fulfilled its function as an information source. Paying to get offended would only make his mood go to shit.
And after visiting that place, he slightly adjusted his short-term objectives as well. Thus, Lee Taebaek shifted his route from the red-light district to the lowest-tier district.
At this point, one might wonder.
Why he deliberately sought out the abyss.
“Hey. You there, mask.”
Someone called out from afar. Lee Taebaek readily tossed his gaze over. Boys who looked barely of age were approaching.
At a glance, the group consisted of five boys with clearly delinquent looks. Dragging steel pipes along the ground, they came closer and took positions around Lee Taebaek’s front and back.
The boy who looked like the leader blocked the middle of the path. His shoulders were three or four times broader than the others’, partly because the other boys were so scrawny.
He casually rested a steel pipe on his shoulder. Letting out a fishy grin, he opened his mouth.
“Just looking at you, you seem like an outsider, and things have been pretty rough around here lately. I heard three gang members died just the other day. So here’s the deal. If you pay a reasonable protection fee, we’ll escort you to wherever you want. Though, well, it’s obvious where you’re headed.”
“How would you know the destination?”
“Are you an idiot? Where else would anyone coming to this neighborhood go but the red-light district. Might even be one of your mom’s night clients.”
“Damn, there goes dinner tonight too.”
Lee Taebaek said nothing. Every time his chest swelled and shrank, only a turbid breath pushed through the mask.
“What, is he mute?”
“Then that’s even better. Even if we shake him down, he can’t go spreading rumors.”
“He’s got hands, though.”
“Then we just break them enough.”
The delinquent boys traded jabs. It had been exactly like this the day he first visited the lowest-tier district. The day before yesterday, and yesterday too.
Had it solidified into some kind of rite of passage?
‘Well, this is why I’m here anyway.’
Judging by their level of conversation, they didn’t seem to be a full-fledged gang yet. If they grew like this, they’d probably each get a dragon tattooed on their bodies someday.
‘No need to draw a blade.’
Watching the scene, Lee Taebaek let out a sigh. He attached the Para Blade to his back, then flexed his bare fists.
“Do you happen to believe in a god?”
When Lee Taebaek asked so abruptly, the boys froze. They tilted their heads.
Then they burst out laughing, shoulders shaking. Soon, the steel pipes dropped from their shoulders.
“Did you come from that Lilith Order or whatever too? Too bad. We’re not exactly on good terms with them.”
“…….”
“Everyone here. Those things called parents got bewitched by the Lilith Order and stopped taking care of us. So we have to scrape by feeding ourselves like this—.”
“So that means you’re irreligious.”
The leader couldn’t finish his sentence.
[The operator activates Bullet Time.]
[Time Limit: ●●●●●●●◐○]
Kwahaaaang! A stomping charge. Lee Taebaek rushed in, raising his right arm high. A fist of enlightenment.
The enemy of religion was religion. When doctrines written in scriptures collided, that world was one where they were desperate to kill each other.
The Lilith Order would be no different. They claimed to be a volunteer organization, but whatever their stated purpose, their real goal would be securing believers.
‘Let’s interfere.’
Using one barbarian to control another. An age-old tactic. What, suddenly sounds like nonsense?
“Louder.”
Centered around Lee Taebaek, the delinquent youths flopped flat onto the ground. Horns had already sprouted from their foreheads. Courtesy pouches planted by the cult leader.
The boys who had joined the Baekbaek Order memorized the cult name, reverently praising Lee Taebaek, the founding patriarch. Sniffling sounds could be heard intermittently.
“҉Baek҉baek҉baek҉ui҉ui҉ui҉jeok҉jeok҉jeok҉gam҉eung҉gam҉eung”҉
Religion was subdued by religion. If a chaos cult started proselytizing from the red-light district, the heart of the lowest-tier district?
If this side tightened the noose from the outskirts inward, they would inevitably collide. Much like insects nibbling away at mulberry leaves from the edges inward.
Lee Taebaek, who had been resting his chin on the handle of his umbrella, suddenly looked up at the sky. It was gloomy.
The inhabitants of this world believed that the gods resided in palaces in that sky, and they actually existed.
They were free to believe that. Their creator was me.
҉“Baek҉baek҉baek҉ui҉ui҉ui҉jeok҉jeok҉jeok҉gam҉eung҉gam҉eung”҉
҉“Baek҉baek҉baek҉ui҉ui҉ui҉jeok҉jeok҉jeok҉gam҉eung҉gam҉eung”҉
There was no issue with taking the name of a god and founding a religion around it. But believing in a created being felt a bit off, didn’t it? Bad for appearances.
He shifted his thinking and decided to impersonate a god instead.
After all, Lee Taebaek was an operator.
In a game, the acts of the operator were providence itself.