"Did I Pull It Off?"

 No. If anything, the one who got wrecked was me.

Game Over.

Lying on my bed in the corner of my one-room apartment, I fiddled aimlessly with the Joy-Con.

In this fantasy world, the protagonist had been honing his sword to defeat the demon king when he suddenly turned into an inventor. Now, just pressing the A button once would set a car ablaze.

Countless goblins blocked my path. I hit A.

Flames erupted behind the log-woven cart.

"Alright, let's go~!"

The log cart charged forward, engulfed in fire. The goblins, recognizing me as an enemy, rushed in—and got burned. But my character suffered the same fate.

HP started dropping. Goblins fell, the charred wheels shattered, the logs splintered. My character was in critical danger. Without a potion, death was inevitable.

I didn't run. I just stared blankly at the monitor.

"Burns nice."

I zoned out, watching my character roast to death like it was a campfire.

Game Over.

I had no burning goal to clear the game this time.

"Just... "

I turned my head toward the ticking clock.

Just killing time.

My reflection stared back from the loading screen.

How many days had it been since I last left this bed?

After the Supreme Beat Contest finals wrapped, I'd crawled back to my one-room hole.

By filming schedule, it lined up with the Golden Week holiday—Fri-Sat-Sun-Mon. No official public holidays, but if I declared it Golden Week, then this whole week was mine.

I didn't want to do a damn thing.

Didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to think about anything.

I'd figured my young, regressed body would at least have stamina to spare, but nope—somehow, it felt drained anyway.

Ring ring.

My phone buzzed.

"Hmmm~."

What a hassle. I picked up halfway, then hesitated.

Lately, unknown numbers kept calling. The first one I thought was a casting offer turned out to be a voice phishing scam by some ethnic Korean with native-level Korean cursing me out after I said "Not interested." Ever since, I ignore even 010 numbers unless it's someone saved like "Kim Evening Committee Chair."

Ignore it? I debated, then answered.

I hadn't seen hyung's face since the broadcast ended.

Done tormenting the game character, time to torment Kim Min-hyuk instead.

"Hello?"

"Two hours..."

Even with showering and prep, that's way too much time...?

If it were someone important, maybe it'd be tight—but it's Kim Min-hyuk. Brush teeth, wash hair, done.

No need to fuss with clothes. This tracksuit I'm in should work.

I grabbed the shoulder seam, sniffed.

No fragrance, but no stench either. Human smell.

"Good enough. Gonna reek of grease anyway. No point digging out fresh threads."

Okay. Plenty of time till he arrives.

I flopped back onto the mattress. Spread-eagled, then yanked the blanket over and rolled sideways.

Grabbed my phone.

I'd sworn off worldly cares, but one thread still tugged.

Searched "Black Label" on the portal site.

"...Busy as hell."

Non-stop grind. Company and group hitting the jackpot with mythic gear. Nonstop motor revved up.

Hye-soo said they'd managed stamina for four years just for this comeback.

The four-member group chat pinged occasionally, but just quick check-ins. Thought at least one would hit me up if another didn't—but nope, wishful thinking.

Who said celebrities live in waiting? It's all read-and-ghost city.

The Supreme Beat Contest afterglow? Only my online buddies shared that vibe.

Every community buzzed with Black Label talk.

Didn't even need to watch Supreme Beat Contest—just browse the net, and someone'd posted it.

The spark had ignited.

How long Black Label fanned it without snuffing it out? Up to them.

"Maybe it depends on me too."

Swipe, swipe. Thumb scrolled down.

Replies regenerated slow here. Morning posts still on page 2.

Dropped the phone I'd been scrolling lying down.

Dunno, man.

Rolled around—what, an hour gone already?

"Yawwwn."

Sat up. Heading to the meet spot early for once? Not bad.

Shuffled to the bathroom.

"Dude... what? You call me to your place and brag about being early? Bragging."

At the chicken spot by my building, Kim Min-hyuk kept popping puffed snacks—the freebie side.

I chugged ice-cold beer, countering his logic.

"Hyung, don't closer folks show up later?"

"Bullshit."

"Your chicken order's up."

Hyung shut his curse mid-stream as the server turned away, then spoke.

"So what'd you do after it ended?"

"What'd you do, hyung?"

Grabbed a chicken radish. Stabbed it with a fork—juice splattered.

Min-hyuk wiped his mouth casually, answered.

"You hear me on the phone earlier? Said I was broadcasting."

"Ahh~."

"Not 'ahh~.' What'd you do?"

"Just messed around."

"Yeah, messing around's key. But how matters."

"Drowned, burned, fell from heights—died a bunch."

"Wtf you on about? No calls?"

I glanced at my phone wordlessly.

"If it's calls, yeah tons. Unknown numbers."

"Dude, they start with 010?"

I wagged the fork. Shoved steaming tenderloin chicken in my mouth.

Hot. Knew it'd be, but this hot?

Nodded.

"Idiot, could be station writers. Why ghost 'em?"

"Ahh—owww... hot, so hot."

"Bullshit. Drink beer, man."

Nah. Ruins the chicken's pure flavor.

Cooled the batter with frosty breath, pulling in outside air. Once comms possible, Bitboy asked.

"What's the plan, ignoring contacts like that? One name-drop and you're set for composer life solo?"

"Nah. Resting this week. Gotta plan next moves too."

"Why? Oh right!"

Min-hyuk raised his beer.

"Heard G&X exclusive offer? That it? Why? Jeong rep handing you a new girl group besides Black Label?"

"Hyung, I'm just starting. Main act? Nah."

"Why not. Black Label's hot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, but pre-you they were trainee-tier. You built 'em fresh."

"Didn't build shit. They were good already."

"Good ones... dude, if good from jump they'd have charted huge. You saved 'em. And... you took it?"

"Nope."

Min-hyuk blinked twice.

"Huh?"

"Turned it down. No G&X for me."

"Whaaat?"

He shot up yelling. Someone from the next table strode over, grabbed his hand.

"Hey mister! Too loud! Black Label this, Black Label that. Bar or not, chill out! Who're you... wait, Falcon?"

Do I know you?