Chapter 41

Mos, Cheon Myeong-han has been a diligent person since childhood.

He faithfully ran along the rails set by society, and he was even quite good at it.

He graduated from a good university and got a good job.

That’s why it feels a bit strange at first glance that he’s been part of a close-knit community like the Game Gallery for so long.

But there’s nothing too weird about it.

People’s tendencies are naturally diverse.

It wasn’t strange for someone to exist who is diligent but also loves games and is good at community activities.

In fact, if Mos had quit games and the community, he might have gone to a better university and earned a higher salary.

But that wouldn’t be Mos.

That would be someone else.

So Mos was satisfied with his current life. He preferred being a tax accountant and a Grandmaster in <Eternal World> over being a lawyer who doesn’t play games.

Moreover, all the community activities he had done so far weren’t entirely useless.

He had finally gotten some work out of it, and he made good use of it.

Currently, Han Yoorim’s expected profits were enormous. Even just considering the adjustment fees, it was clear that millions of won would be paid out.

It was almost at the level of a small business, and honestly, he didn’t understand why she entrusted him with the work.

Mos habitually reached for his cigarette pack but then pulled his hand away.

Smoking was only for when he was relaxing at home. That was Mos’s rule.

It was to avoid clients disliking the smell of cigarettes.

You might think it would be better to quit altogether, but this much was already an effort. Smokers are people too. Cut them some slack sometimes.

Mos checked his wristwatch.

10:30 AM. The appointment was at 11, so he needed to start preparing.

Mos got up from his seat. He planned to go to the café and order dessert in advance.

As he stepped outside, Mos frowned at the mid-June sunlight.

Is the world ending? If it’s this hot already, what’s summer going to be like?

Clicking his tongue lightly, Mos headed to his regular café near the office.

As he entered the café, the owner recognized him and greeted him with a smile.

“Shall I get you the usual?”

“And dessert.”

“What would you like?”

“Macarons, please. …And a sandwich too.”

Mos wasn’t a prejudiced person, but usually, female clients were satisfied with macarons.

But strangely, he had a feeling Han Yoorim wouldn’t be like that.

It was just a hunch.

Something about her gave him the impression she wouldn’t like macarons.

“Here’s your Americano.”

Mos took his coffee and headed to the window seat.

Starting the day with coffee at the café after work. That was Mos’s routine.

‘Huh?’

He suddenly stopped.

There was a woman sitting by the window who was so striking it was almost unbelievable.

Hair like spun gold, eyes so vivid and clear they didn’t feel real, and a beauty that seemed out of this world.

In front of her were mountains of macarons and sandwiches.

Mos’s mind spun.

Something, something.

It felt like he’d seen her before—.

‘Han Yoorim?’

It might seem strange that Mos didn’t recognize Han Yoorim right away.

Han Yoorim had made an avatar modeled after herself, created characters, and basically made everything.

So why couldn’t Mos recognize her immediately? Was it because he was indifferent to others?

No.

This was all due to the magic of being a lesser version.

For example, let’s say there’s a man named Kim In-ho who resembles a famous actor. People who know both the actor and Kim In-ho would say something like,

“Hey, you look just like that actor from <The Slaughterer>.”

It’s a common phenomenon, but it raises a question.

Would the opposite also hold true? Could someone see the actor and think of Kim In-ho?

No, it wouldn’t.

There’s a reason for being the lesser version.

Even Kim In-ho’s mother wouldn’t see the handsome actor and think of Kim In-ho.

Because the brain would feel sorry for even attempting such a thing.

The same went for Han Yoorim.

You could see Thierry and think of Han Yoorim, but seeing Han Yoorim and thinking of Thierry was extremely difficult.

No matter how beautiful Thierry was, there was a significant gap between the two.

Mos sat down in front of Han Yoorim.

Han Yoorim looked up and spoke.

“Did the sandwich catch your eye?”

“Mos, Cheon Myeong-han.”

“Yes. Did the sandwich catch your eye?”

So it wasn’t that she didn’t know who I was and was talking nonsense, but rather she noticed and still talked nonsense.

Shaking his head, Mos looked down at the table.

There were piles of sandwiches and macarons.

It wasn’t that she disliked macarons and liked sandwiches—she ate both?

As always, she defied expectations.

What a fascinating person.

Mos stuck a straw into his Americano and asked,

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for the appointment time.”

“Since when?”

“Since 30 minutes ago.”

Meaning she had arrived an hour early, which even Mos, who was punctual, thought was a bit much.

“You could have come into the office.”

“Wouldn’t that be disruptive if you were working?”

“Then why did you take my contact info? You could have asked.”

“As you know, people in communities tend to have severe ADHD. And ADHD makes it hard to say no. Even if they’re swamped, if someone asks to meet, they’ll say okay. So now you understand why I didn’t call, right?”

“Sigh.”

Sighing in front of a client wasn’t good business etiquette, but he couldn’t help it with this person.

He believed even a 10-million-won social expert would understand.

Mos calmly parted his lips.

“Alright, let’s go in. I’m really not busy right now.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t use ‘Mallangmabang’ in the office.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Are you calling me by my nickname, Malangmapak?”

“That’s because your nickname is the same as your real name.”

I couldn’t hold back and retorted.

No. Snap out of it, Cheonmyeong. If you get dragged into this, you’ll just be stuck in a nonsense rally until it’s time to go home.

Luckily, Han Yoorim seemed to understand and nodded, picking up a sandwich.

“Then I’ll just eat this and head in. You go ahead, Malangmapak.”

“It’s fine. I’m not busy today anyway. The staff probably prefer it when I don’t come in.”

Mos took a sip of his Americano. As the caffeine kicked in, his chaotic mind started to clear.

“Mmm.”

“……”

“Umm. Do you have something to say?”

“Why on earth are you doing VTubing?”

The implied meaning was, if you’re making an avatar based on your real appearance (Mos had already noticed Thierry wasn’t the inspiration anymore), then what’s the point of being a VTuber?

“Haah.”

Han Yoorim sighed. Her expression was so similar to his own just moments ago that Mos was taken aback.

Did I just say something on the same level as Han Yoorim’s nonsense?

No, right?

It’s a perfectly valid question.

“Malangmapak.”

“Yes.”

“How much do you know about VTubers?”

Han Yoorim crossed her legs and asked. Maybe it was because she was holding a macaron in her left hand, but the atmosphere wasn’t serious at all.

Mos answered honestly.

“I know the basics.”

“How arrogant. You were born under the star of arrogance.”

“I said I know the basics.”

“In the world of VTubers, anything is possible. You can be an ice mage, or a cat doll. Didn’t you notice this infinite potential?”

“I know that, but Han Yoorim, you’re just your real self. That’s why I asked. If you were an ice mage, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Han Yoorim wagged her index finger left and right.

For some reason, that annoyed Mos, and he took another sip of his Americano.

Han Yoorim continued slowly.

“Then when you see my real appearance, there’s a sense of disconnect.”

“That’s the reason?”

“And even if you make the avatar look like your real self, it doesn’t mean you can’t utilize the advantages of being a VTuber.”

“Really?”

“If you want to know more, check out my stream.”

Seems like she had something prepared.

Since I wasn’t that interested, I didn’t ask further.

Mos folded the receipt in half and spoke.

“Han Yoorim.”

“Go ahead.”

“Out of all those tax accountants, why did you pick me? I don’t have much experience.”

“You’re the only tax accountant I know, Malangmapak, and you seem reliable.”

“How can you say I’m reliable when you’ve just met me?”

Mos let out a hollow laugh.

We just met today, so how can you talk about trust?

If you think you can judge someone based on what you’ve seen online, that’s a big misconception.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you. I’ve been watching you for quite a while.”

“If you’ve been in the community for long, you’d know it’s all a masquerade.”

“But isn’t it true that you like maids, Malangmapak?”

Mos hesitated.

Could that be the reason?

“That’s more than most tax accountants know. Isn’t that enough of a reason to choose you?”

“…Maybe.”

Come to think of it, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Mos made a paper airplane out of the receipt and looked at Han Yoorim.

All the food in front of her was gone.

Mos said, “If you’re done eating, shall we head to the office?”

“The chocolate cake I ordered hasn’t come out yet.”

“…When did you order that?”

*

Pape looked at the messenger with a dissatisfied expression.

The tax accountant he’d been working with had been unsatisfactory lately.

It wasn’t that they were doing anything illegal or causing trouble, but they were oddly slow, which was starting to get on his nerves.

He couldn’t tell if it was because of his sensitive nature or if the tax accountant was genuinely slacking.

It didn’t matter. He was the client, after all. If he wasn’t happy, he could just switch.

Pape looked for another tax accountant. Being a broadcaster wasn’t a regular job, so he couldn’t just pick anyone. He needed someone who understood internet broadcasting taxes.

It wasn’t easy.

There were plenty of people claiming to be “VTuber-specialized tax accountants,” but they all had little experience. If he ended up with a rookie, he’d be in for a year of headaches.

Maybe it’s better to stick with the current tax accountant.

Just as Pape was about to close the internet browser, thinking he didn’t need to terminate the contract, a message came in.

Ding. A message arrived.

When he opened the voice messenger, he saw a familiar nickname.

Han Yoorim: I heard you’re looking for a tax accountant?

How did she know? He only complained about the tax accountant to Rumen… As he thought about it, he realized who the culprit was. It was Rumen.

Pape typed a reply.

Pape: Why? Are you going to introduce someone?

Han Yoorim: You caught on quick. It’s my first time recommending someone, but they’re reliable. I’ve known them for a long time, so I know they’re thorough.

Someone Han Yoorim has known for a long time?

That piqued his interest.

How tough do you have to be to put up with her for so long?

Is she the goddess of patience?

Pape quickly sent a reply.

Pape: Send me their contact info.

*

[What about me?]

“Tax accountants aren’t amusement parks. Don’t ask in a tone like you’re upset I didn’t tell you.”

[What about me?]

“I sent the contact info in a message.”