Chapter 109

Mai brought Han Yoorim back home.

If it were real life, she would never bring a homeless child home, but hey, it’s a broadcast, right?

Even if it’s a Life Server, creating interesting situations and rolling with them is a broadcaster’s ability.

“Mai unnie. Wouldn’t it be better to live outside than here?”

“Get out.”

After subduing Han Yoorim, who was complaining about the cramped room, Mai sat on the bed.

*Bang bang!* Someone knocked on the door. She knew who it was without looking, but she couldn’t just ignore it.

Sighing inwardly, Mai walked to the door and opened it.

“I’ll pay the rent. Just wait—”

Mai stopped mid-sentence.

It wasn’t the sharp-tongued middle-aged woman she expected, but a stranger standing at the door.

“Huh?”

*Bang!*

Dodging the sudden gunshot was pure luck. If Mai had been a step closer to the door, or if the man had been a bit faster, she wouldn’t have avoided the bullet.

When the man swung his leg, Mai’s body floated and flew backward.

Her body hit the wall. A strong impact shook her, and her vision blurred. In the dizzying situation, Mai struggled to lift her head.

The man approached, aiming his gun.

In response, Mai raised both hands in desperation.

And then.

*Whoosh.*

Flames burst from Mai’s hands and engulfed the man.

“Ahhh!”

Leaving the screaming man behind, Mai fled the house.

Arriving at an empty alley, Mai caught her breath and tried to make sense of the situation.

She hadn’t done anything to get involved with someone like that. Her RP was ordinary. After all, RP was just typing a few lines—it couldn’t have affected the game.

What was going on? She couldn’t understand.

“Becoming stronger in a crisis is one of the clichés.”

Someone chattered beside Mai.

It was Han Yoorim, who had followed her.

Mai narrowed her eyes.

If there was a reason for the attack, there was only one.

“Did you escape from a lab or something?”

“Mai unnie, you’ve been watching too much anime.”

“Then why did that man come looking for you?”

“Obviously, he came for you, Mai unnie. I don’t know.”

Was she serious, or just playing dumb?

—

The kid’s chattering is cute lol

She’s clearly the mastermind lol

This game is weird. Are the other members going through something similar?

—

Thanks to the flood of chat, Mai realized that other members were experiencing similar situations.

She didn’t know the details, but it was clear that Han Yoorim had messed with the game big time.

“……”

“Unnie, staring at me won’t get you anything. I’m a penniless wanderer, you know?”

Mai wanted to ask, ‘What did you do to the game?’ but she couldn’t. This was the Life Server. She had to avoid breaking immersion.

If only she had a DM, she could ask, but Han Yoorim was an outsider. She didn’t know her personal contact.

There was no choice. For now, she had to improvise and figure things out after ending the broadcast.

Then, Han Yoorim suddenly spoke up.

“Unnie, you have the talent of a mage. Isn’t that the reason?”

“…Magic?”

From the title [Arcane Punk 1009], it was clear that this game’s world was ruled by magic.

Magic permeated every aspect of life, mages were highly respected, and all industries were rooted in magic.

Without magic, nothing could progress, so Mai had made sure to max out her magic-related talents in the initial settings.

…Was that the reason?

“The talent of a mage doesn’t just manifest for no reason. In a world where becoming a mage can turn your life around, such a rare talent wouldn’t just bloom randomly without a cause, right?”

“But…”

Mai wanted to say, ‘[Arcane Punk 1009] isn’t the kind of game where the story changes based on initial talent settings. Does such a game even exist?’ but she stopped herself.

Common sense was on Mai’s side.

[Arcane Punk 1009] wasn’t “that kind of game,” and “that kind of game” shouldn’t exist in the first place.

But common sense is just an average agreed upon by the majority.

And there are always outliers that break that average.

Such games shouldn’t exist, but for some reason, Mai had played quite a few games like this.

And all of them were made by Han Yoorim.

So it was safe to assume that this server, which Han Yoorim had tampered with, was similar to the games she had made before.

How she did it, Mai didn’t know. Could she really do this just by adding a few self-made mods?

Well, she must have, since it happened. It wasn’t Mai’s concern.

Mai looked at Han Yoorim and opened her mouth.

“Uh…”

“Call me Yoorim-chan.”

Mai almost bit her tongue. Knowing Han Yoorim’s real self made it worse.

That cool, aloof, and somehow…

Calling a human like that in such a friendly way? Honestly, it felt a bit off. It’s like calling Cthulhu “Cthulhu-chan.” Just… no.

“Yoorim…-chan.”

But that’s real-life talk. In-game, this was totally fitting. Mai, who looks like a high schooler in the game, calling Han Yoorim, who looks like a fourth-grader at best, “-chan” is just how it should be.

“Unnie. You look tired. Did you use too much magic?”

“It’s not the magic.”

“Then is it because you ran too much? You’re out of shape. Be careful.”

“That’s not it either.”

“Got it. It’s because I’m too cute, right? I’m the kind of cute that’s bad for your heart.”

The words “Is this girl crazy?” were on the tip of my tongue.

—

The embodiment of shamelessness.

Wait, Yoorim is cute, though? Why this reaction?

—

While most people reacted like Mai, a few who just connected to the internet started popping up.

The controversy around Han Yoorim had spread beyond South Korea, hitting Japan, China, the U.S., and even Europe. It was the kind of incident that was perfect for cyber sleuths to cook up into videos.

So now, most people knew that Yoorim’s avatar looked exactly like her real self. Even after that was revealed, she still said stuff like that. Truly shameless.

“She’s cute, though…”

Every time she opened her mouth, it was startling, but when she kept it shut, she looked like an angel. Her avatar design was already great, but now it felt even better.

“It’s like her real appearance keeps layering over it, making it feel like a graphics upgrade.”

Every time I saw Yoorim’s avatar, her real face popped into my mind. Mai remembered the first time she saw Yoorim. That unreal, atmosphere-shifting appearance still showed up in her dreams sometimes.

There’s something called the Bill Clinton neuron. It’s a neuron that reacts to specific celebrities, and for it to activate, long-term exposure and a strong emotional connection are necessary. Yoorim’s looks, however, seemed to awaken this neuron in people’s brains instantly.

What shocked Mai the most when she saw Yoorim was that she had been hiding such a powerful weapon all this time. After solidifying her position, she revealed her face like adding a strawberry on top of a cake—except the strawberry might’ve been tastier than the cake itself.

Yoorim’s strategic choice sparked some imagination. Like, what if she’s hiding even more weapons?

“Unnie. Your eyes are scary. Even if I’m a super beautiful girl, you should know that I’m still too young to fetch a high price in human trafficking.”

…Or maybe not. Maybe she’s just living without a plan.

Come to think of it, this face reveal might’ve happened because someone shouted, “Yoorim! One Piece exists, right!” and Yoorim replied, “I left everything in this world there.” It didn’t feel like something she’d planned.

“To be exact, it was a reward for someone who guessed correctly.”

“…Mai, did you just say your thoughts out loud?”

“No?”

“No?”

Then what was that just now? How did you answer that?

“Unnie. That’s not important right now. We’re in a chase situation. We need to deal with this first.”

Deciding to unravel Yoorim’s mysterious mind-reading later, Mai got lost in thought.

She had played [Arcane Punk 1009], but the game she was playing now wasn’t the regular [Arcane Punk 1009]—it was the one Yoorim had tweaked. Judging based on existing info was pointless.

In the current situation, she had to choose the best option.

“……Should we go to the hotel first?”

“Brilliant choice. It’s a classic cliché to hone your magic there and start your revenge.”

“I’m not sure about revenge, but we can’t sleep on the streets.”

“One night won’t hurt.”

“So, Yoorim-chan, are you going to sleep on the streets?”

“You lead the way.”

—

A day later, we ran into a big problem.

“Yoorim-chan. How do you use this magic? Normally, you just… Ugh, this is frustrating. Let me break server rules for a sec and make a meta comment. Normally, you’d just click an icon, but why is that gone?”

“That’s…”

“That’s?”

“I don’t know either?”

Why are you even asking me that? Someone might think I developed the game mode.