Why the Hell? What's the Reason?
The moment I stepped inside, escaping the chill, I filled the coffee pot with water and turned on the power. The machine started humming noisily as it came to life, and I set it aside. Fork in hand, I carried the delicious-looking cake over to the desk and sat down at my computer. Before lifting the clear plastic lid off the cake, I entered the screen name on the replay-search site.
Tadak. Tatatak. Tak.
Ddalgeul1 Smoothie
Just reading the name sent a burst of fresh strawberry sweetness and sugary sweetness flooding my mouth. …I should’ve bought some strawberry milk from the convenience store. Suddenly I craved strawberries.
After a brief loading screen, the details appeared.
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[Ddalgeul1 Smoothie]
[Silver]
Games played: 387
Win rate: 40.3%
Wins: 156
Losses: 231
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["……Hmph."]
No matter how you looked at it, this was clearly a local player.
…How? How had that kind of physicality even come about?
The replay-update time was listed on the replay section — the exact second I had fallen asleep last night.
I immediately updated my own record. The screen flashed white for a moment, then returned.
["The game… hasn’t even started yet, has it?"]
Still, just in case, I clicked the in-game information button. But all I got was the same message that the match wasn’t active.
["……Tch."]
Last night, after that shocking defeat, I had gone through nearly a month of replays from Ddalgeul1 Smoothie.
And the conclusion I reached was this account’s owner wasn’t human at all.
A research project that attached VR markers to dogs, cats, or even chimpanzees just to run the game?
The play was so bad it made you question whether any feedback was even needed.
The fact that they kept winning despite that level of play was straight-up mysterious.
The most memorable scene had been the mage’s ultimate skill, Light Laser — an attack so wide you couldn’t miss it even if you tried. It had sliced straight through the ground three times in a row.
…That was truly impressive. Yeah… it was amazing.
So that meant —
…It had to have been someone else playing.
Against a Silver player like me — and one who didn’t even ask for an Advantage — that account owner had no chance of beating me.
Guro had been strong back then, but even at his peak, that level of skill was beyond him. I could’ve won even with my health set to one.
First, the movement itself was different. Movement was the soul of the player. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, the “human tendencies” stacked up like tree rings — you couldn’t hide them all.
That movement had clearly been from a high-tier Challenger player.
In other words… this was just a gut feeling, but the movements matched the streamer I’d started watching recently, “Blurred Sky,” very closely.
…Well, it was just speculation.
No matter how you looked at it, the owner of this account had played against me. It was a done deal.
New psychological warfare techniques and techniques. Techniques bordering on bugs. Skills that a brand-new character couldn’t possibly have.
Even ordinary high-tier users would struggle to use those things so casually.
Clearly, this had to be a player at the top of Challenger.
But even so, there was one thing I couldn’t understand.
…Why?
Why challenge me one-on-one using a Silver account — and a completely anonymous one at that?
If the opponent had worn the Silver skin and demanded a seven-Advantage handicap, I could’ve accepted that.
But the opponent had insisted on a perfectly fair one-on-one duel.
And they had won it cleanly from me.
This wasn’t something only a Silver account could do.
Why?
To force me into a naked dogeza verification?
…No. That condition had been my own. The opponent probably had been shocked by it.
…Why?
For real, why?
A massive wave of irritation bubbled up in the center of my chest. Something felt tightly jammed, suffocating.
Annoyed, I lifted the lid off the cake and scooped up a bite of the soft, sponge-like texture with my fork.
The heavenly sweetness of chocolate exploded across my tongue. The moment it touched my tongue, the thick chocolate cream melted and flooded my mouth.
My eyes widened on their own. I felt like I was right in the middle of the emotional climax of a really touching movie.
["……Wow."]
When I realized it, I’d even let out a spontaneous sound.
……Worth 3,900 won. ……It’s… somewhere in there.
I didn’t want to admit it, but the unpleasant feeling vanished in an instant, flowing away somewhere. In its place, a warm, fluffy satisfaction filled the void.
The smile on my lips refused to fade. My tension had been unnaturally high today. Maybe because it was the first one-on-one match I’d ever won with a full heart.
—Heh.
I’d only blinked a few times, yet half the cake was gone. I was startled. After a moment of confusion, I blinked again — and the cake vanished with a pop.
["I should buy one more."] I muttered a little glumly. Still, my mood was good. The smile on my lips continued to show pleasure.
—Dak.
The coffee pot stopped operating with a sound. I had been sucking the chocolate off the fork and now put the whole thing in my mouth before standing up.
I peeled off the cup-ramen wrapper, poured in the powder, added water, and put the triangle kimbap I bought in the microwave.
I stood there blankly for a few minutes until it finished, then carried the steaming convenience-store set back to my seat.
The spicy aroma of the cup-ramen wafted up, making my stomach churn again.
I know, I know. I’ll put it in right now — just calm down for me.
Mmm, while I eat, I’ll take a look at some of the Celtic Gallery stuff.
Daljak. Daljak.
Dak. Dadadak.
Daljak. Daljak.
—Ffrup.
Swish — swish —
Just a moment ago the atmosphere at the Celtic Gallery had been end-of-the-world tension, but with my one-on-one match declared over, the entire “bait” thread had ended.
More precisely, someone had massively trimmed the bait thread before it could even be properly ended. Evidence could be seen in the concept post about today’s battle that had gone up, or all the reply posts directed at me that had been deleted.
And a new rule had appeared in the gallery to snipe me. “If you’re doing a one-on-one, don’t spam the gallery with reply posts — write one post and then end it there.”
And the penalty for today’s incident had changed from “reply post renewal every twenty minutes” to “one reply post per day.”
Additionally, the gallery user had been allotted six in-game information posts that fit the Celtic Gallery style — useful enough to appear in concept posts.
Well, that was fine. It was a shame only one one-on-one post could be made per day, but it wasn’t a full ban, so somewhere it was still worth it.
My orange admin really takes care of me. The punishment felt so light it was almost reassuring.
I could even call it favoritism, but the tradition of the Celtic Gallery — handing out slaps for any helpful in-game information or character guides that appeared in concept posts — was the reason. No girls’ photos or veteran-bashing golden cups, of course.
…Well, it had been two months since that tradition started because of me. Still, whatever.
The orange admin I had watched over until now was completely obsessed with in-game information posts.
He himself wrote a lot of them, and he also posted analysis of tournaments, meme tips, and character guides.
But supply was always short, so the admin kept pleading with gallery users to write in-game information posts. “How could you not let even someone like me, a mid-level criminal, get a pardon just for writing one?”
Since that tradition had begun, I had steadily produced high-quality posts for the past two months. Thanks to that, even while getting the whole gallery’s glare, I could still operate in the gallery without too much trouble.
It was truly fortunate. When I first got banned, I had been completely lost, wondering where I could find a one-on-one opponent. …That was something I didn’t even want to think about.
Speaking of which, everyone must’ve had a hard time today because of me. I felt strangely guilty. I had never felt that kind of emotion before.
Today had made my mood feel good, though.
Mmm, I feel a little lonely. Should I turn on some video?
I opened an internet window on one of the dual monitors, then went to YouTube. The videos filling the screen were all of Blurred Sky.
Because I had only been watching Blurred Sky’s videos lately, the algorithm had locked onto them.
…The ones I haven’t watched yet… um… here they are.
Three-year-old video.
It was an old game, but it couldn’t be helped.
I had already watched every single video before that one.
Even though the channel had only been up for three months, I had already chewed through three-year-old videos.
The YouTube intro by Blurred Sky flowed from the speakers.
Humming the song softly as I scrolled through the fresh Celtic Gallery game stories, I found a particularly interesting post.
“Tear-basul’s Lulu play — a serious in-depth analysis……?”
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