Chapter 115

I mentioned it before, but even in the worldline where I became a woman, my past didn’t change much.

The slightly different parts were just replaced with choices I would’ve made anyway.

For example, the cosplay outfit I bought in middle school.

When I was a guy, it was an all-black coat, but in this worldline, it was a Gothloli magical girl outfit.

The idea that you can’t experience Middle School Second Year Syndrome unless you’re in middle school second year was the same, but what I bought afterward changed.

Skirts were naturally a woman’s thing.

For example, everyday clothes.

Whether I was a guy or in this worldline, buying popular items from fashion e-commerce platforms was the same, but what I bought changed.

Again, skirts were naturally a woman’s thing.

And even in this worldline where I became a woman, I joined the military.

It was a collaboration between my past self, who volunteered to enlist despite being classified as a public service worker to gain experience for game development, and this world where women could also enlist as regular soldiers.

It was a crazy choice that I regretted by the second morning of training, and even looking back now, it still feels insane. But because of that, in this worldline, I also went to the military—as a soldier.

However.

This time, my past wasn’t entirely unchanged.

In this world, the military was still mostly for men. Only men were conscripted, and among them, women had a choice.

To go or not to go.

In that situation, how many would actually choose to go?

Even in the U.S., where voluntary enlistment is low, they use all sorts of tricks to maintain the military.

Let alone South Korea? It goes without saying.

Voluntarily enlisting as a soldier in modern South Korea felt like a perfectly fine foreigner suddenly deciding to enlist—and as you can guess, the probability of that was extremely low.

In other words, the military was still a man’s world, and when a small number of women were dropped into it, everything related had to be rebuilt from scratch.

Separate living quarters had to be made, squads had to be reorganized—everything had to change.

Honestly, voluntarily enlisting in the South Korean military? It doesn’t sound sane, but you can’t call people who come out of patriotism crazy. So, reluctantly, the South Korean Ministry of National Defense built all new facilities.

And that’s why my past related to the military changed quite a bit compared to before.

The unit I was assigned to in this worldline, where I became a woman, was different from when I was a guy.

So, the seniors I used to know were now strangers. The juniors I knew were the same. The memories I made over a year and a half of shared hardships now only existed in my head.

Instead, in this worldline, it seemed like different memories were made, but unfortunately, those weren’t in my head.

What I mean is.

My current junior was someone I didn’t know at all.

“Sergeant Han. Your beauty is still as stunning as ever.”

I stared at the woman chattering beside me.

It’s been years since I was discharged, and she’s still using military lingo.

Truly. The kind of person who would voluntarily enlist in South Korea.

She wasn’t sane.

The woman’s name was Lee Eunmi. She was a year younger than me.

Which meant she was quite a junior… but I had no other information about her. It was awkward to ask. If I suddenly started talking about memories, what would she even think—?

“I still remember. When I was feeling down after breaking up with my boyfriend, Sergeant Han comforted me.”

Lee Eunmi suddenly started talking about memories without me asking. Thanks to that, I could roughly guess what our relationship was like.

By the way.

“I did that?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I really comforted someone?”

“Really. The day after I broke up with my boyfriend. We went out on leave together—”

“Did I grill meat and give life advice or something?”

“You recommended a female-oriented dating sim. We even played through to the ending together.”

“That’s definitely me.”

For a moment, I doubted her because she was saying such absurd things, but after hearing it all, it really seemed like she was my junior.

This lowered the probability of Lee Eunmi being a CIA spy.

Even the CIA wouldn’t think to recommend a game to see how someone reacts after a breakup.

Lee Eunmi said,

“What have you been up to lately, Sergeant Han?”

“Me?”

“I’m curious. Is your game development going well?”

I must’ve caught some kind of celebrity syndrome.

Lee Eunmi’s words felt refreshing.

It was a conversation with someone who didn’t know me. Lately, everywhere I go, people recognize me, so this was a rare experience.

“It’s going okay. By the way, do you watch MTube?”

“MTube? Hmm. I sometimes watch astronomy or animal documentaries on MTube.”

“You don’t watch gaming MTube?”

“Ah. Not really. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

If she watched MTube, she wouldn’t have been able to not know me.

It’s not self-absorption—it’s just that during the peak of the chaos, all sorts of cyber hecklers were talking about me.

Even people who didn’t know me would’ve clicked on a thumbnail with my face if it popped up, right?

But after hearing Lee Eunmi’s interests, it made sense she didn’t know.

Her algorithm was probably as clean as purified water.

I kinda want to drop a VTuber video in there and pollute it.

Seriously.

“Then I guess you don’t play games at all?”

“…Actually, thanks to you, Sergeant Han, I’ve developed a bit of a gaming hobby.”

“A bit? What games do you play?”

I asked without much expectation.

She’s an astronomy student who loves space. How much would someone like her enjoy games?

At best, she’d probably play a few classic games and then stop.

“Are you talking about the games I play?”

“Yes.”

“If it’s a recent game, then that’s it.”

Lee Eunmi paused briefly and then quickly continued.

“<At the Clock Tower of Fate>, <The Secret of Starlight Academy>, <The Royal Seven-Day Contract>, <The Secret Love Letter of the Nobleman>, <At the Mansion Where Piano Music Plays>, that’s about it. All thanks to Sergeant Han.”

I don’t know who Sergeant Han is, but he’s clearly a crazy guy.

Turning an innocent astronomy student into a monster who only plays otome games?

The future of South Korea just got a little darker because of this.

“You don’t play anything else?”

“Sergeant Han. Are you looking down on otome games now? Got it. People with hobbies like this are at the bottom of humanity. Message received.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

There’s not a single memory left of my time with Eunmi, but for some reason, it feels like the Eunmi from back then and the Eunmi now are completely different people.

I’m guessing she was influenced by some weirdo during her military service.

Sergeant Han. You should’ve known your limits. I don’t know who you are, but you’ve ruined a kid.

How are you going to take responsibility for this?

“You’ve even developed delusions of persecution. You’ve become a full-fledged otaku, Eunmi.”

Eunmi giggled at my words.

Seeing that, I felt a bit more at ease.

Guess I was worrying for nothing.

Honestly, having a past I didn’t know about come back to me wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

It felt like finding out about a homework assignment on the day it was due. I didn’t want to go through that twice.

Eunmi muttered.

“The game Sergeant Han completed. I really wanted to play it, but it’s a shame.”

“About that. Try searching for Han Yoorim online.”

“Search? Why?”

“Just do it.”

*

“Wow.”

“Hello.”

“I’m a fan.”

“Thank you.”

My content, ‘Han Yoorim’s Daily Part-Time Job,’ was a success.

The viewers were satisfied, and the original purpose of promotion was also achieved.

“Unnie. Table 14 needs kimchi stew.”

“Bunny Run.”

“Huh? Oh. Busy? I’ll bring it over then.”

“That’s not it. Why are you here?”

And then Bunny Run naturally joined as a part-time worker.

Thanks to that, my father’s store got off to a better start than expected.

“But Bunny Run. Why did you really come here?”

“Can’t I?”

“It’s not a problem, but…”

And just like that, closing time came.

After signing autographs for the fans, I stretched and headed to the staff room.

“……”

Eunmi was sitting in a chair, looking at her smartphone.

I spoke to her.

“Good work today. I won’t be coming out anymore, but let’s keep in touch.”

“Sergeant Han.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve really made a lot of games.”

So she was watching MTube videos related to me.

I nodded.

“Just a few.”

“I’ve heard of these games. Did you make them?”

“Haven’t tried them?”

“I don’t get interested unless it’s an otome game.”

Sergeant Han. You crazy guy. What kind of monster have you created?

“Try playing my game sometime. It’s fun.”

“Of course, the games you make are the best.”

“How would you know if you haven’t played them?”

I casually responded to the obvious lip service.

Then.

Eunmi tilted her head and answered.

“Of course, I haven’t played the recently released games, but I did play an unfinished game you made a long time ago. I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to try the finished version, but it doesn’t seem to be on the release list. Was it scrapped?”

An unfinished game?

Before I became a Super Developer, the only game I made was <Infinity Zero>.

Well, technically, I made a few others, but they were more like slightly special things rather than games. They were far from the kind of unfinished game Eunmi was talking about.

It was clear.

This was a game made by a past version of me, for some reason, that I didn’t know about.

My eyes lit up as I spoke.

“Eunmi. Did I give that to you in a file format?”

“Of course.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Obviously. Why would I throw it away?”

“Really?”

I calmly continued.

“Could you send that game back to my email?”