Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Veteran Solo
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Irregulars evolve endlessly.
A body locked in perpetual growth naturally craves the nutrition to match.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say Jin's insane eating habits stemmed entirely from this.
Especially compounded by his desperate early experiences with starvation in the first year.
To Jin, meals transcended simply filling his belly—they touched something deep in his unconscious.
Put simply, he ate massive amounts, and he devoured them obsessively.
Yet he carried not an ounce of fat because, despite calorie intake surpassing even Olympic medalists, his body absorbed every scrap of nutrition.
Truly, not a single grain wasted.
And even that fell short, birthing a defect.
So Jin's body had its gripes.
What you're giving is nowhere near enough.
With this, it's barely enough to strengthen itself and heal injuries. More! More! More!
And today.
After a year and several months.
Finally.
A nourishing downpour rained upon Jin's perpetually starving body.
It was the spiritual medicine.
Um, uh, wow, ooh.
When you're this shocked, all that comes out are gasps.
No, really, wow, hoo.
Language functions in decline, perhaps.
Words just wouldn't form right.
Jin recalled where he'd felt this before.
Right, the aquarium!
That massive aquarium from his childhood, holding his parents' hands.
The majestic scene beyond the glass, from a child's eyes.
Vast... enormous fish slicing through the blue water...
Er, best not dwell.
Jin slapped his cheeks with his palms.
Wondering if he was still half-asleep.
But even after his face stung fiercely, it remained right there.
Ooh, wow, um, whew.
Jin scratched the back of his head, another reflexive gasp escaping.
How did this happen?
Honestly, the current situation left him utterly flustered.
Why?
Because he'd never once moped over this issue.
Correction: he'd never had the chance to mope.
Isn't there a saying like that?
Abundance reveals scarcity.
Someone scraping by day-to-day doesn't suddenly stare in the mirror lamenting baldness—just like that, Jin had long banished his flaw from his mind.
So he was just flustered.
Tripedal gait?
No idea. What is this? Scary...
That was when it hit.
Sniff.
His nostrils twitched involuntarily.
His brow furrowed sharply.
Hold on, what's that smell?
Finally registering the stench, Jin whipped his head around.
He flinched.
The bedding was caked in dark crimson filth.
Beyond mere stains—unabsorbed waste had crusted over the sheets.
No need to say where the nose-piercing odor originated.
"Whoa. Shit."
Jin bolted upright.
Nearly leaping from the bed.
Something's off? Body feels light.
Only then did he realize the chronic muscle pain from his two-week ordeal was gone.
He reflexively checked his right arm.
Clean.
The arm, plastered yesterday with ugly black bruises like tattoos, had regained its natural skin tone.
And that wasn't all.
Bzzt!
Even Gwanggeuk, useless amid the trashed room, now crackled with electric sparks, asserting its presence.
Only then did Jin realize his mana circuit was fully restored.
Tougher and sturdier than before.
At this point, anyone but a fool would retrace their steps.
Like someone sensing a rumble in their gut and mentally listing recent meals in reverse, Jin did the same.
How could he not notice?
His gaze naturally fell to the glass vial on the floor.
"A gift," she'd said.
Feels way more impressive than expected.
Kids from wealthy families are just on another level.
Well, even chaebol heirs live in different worlds.
A millennium-old clan? No need to say more.
A thousand years—practically twice the Joseon Dynasty.
That's long. Long? Wow, hiss, whew.
Jin, staring dazedly at his crotch, snapped his head side to side.
"Ha—"
He let out a soft sigh, then shuffled toward the bathroom.
Consciously distracting himself.
Taejeong taese mundanse... Yeoseong yeonjung...
To sum it up, what Jin experienced was a kind of oversaturation.
His body, always thriftily parceling limited energy to strengthen itself and heal wounds—speaking volumes in silence—suddenly faced a waterfall of spiritual medicine.
Changes were bound to be dramatic.
His mana circuit, ragged as a dishcloth, repaired in an instant.
Cumulative injuries vanished clean away.
Surplus energy fueled body reinforcement.
Slowly, but without a speck wasted, Jin's body absorbed the elixir's essence over and over.
In that process, the lower body's rebellion was ruthlessly quashed.
Ah, so fleeting.
A midsummer night's dream.
"...What the hell."
Jin, of course, had no clue.
He just tilted his head at his reverted body the next day.
You gone now?
Hey, hey?
No reply, just moping.
But Jin didn't dwell.
It came back, if only briefly.
That's enough.
Not like there's zero hope.
Plus, he'd found a remedy(?).
Good. Perfect.
Jin interpreted it conveniently.
In truth, ingesting the elixir had raised his body's energy capacity ceiling dramatically, making similar effects unlikely henceforth—but how would he know?
He just felt relieved, thinking he could finally head outside.
Thus, Jin—who'd holed up in motels minding others' eyes—stepped out.
Downtown's streets welcomed him as always.
Cigarette butts with no cleanup ETA, colorful business cards, dust-caked outdoor units, sluggishly blinking lights.
The narrow sky strip was a grimy gray.
A hue hard to gauge time by eye.
But Jin was a two-year Downtown vet.
Squinting, he guessed.
Roughly 4 to 5 p.m., he nodded to himself.
Reason: his terminal crapped out again.
Cause of death: prolonged exposure to overwhelming heat.
So Jin shopped for the first time in ages.
Snagged an old-model terminal, then hit a nearby clothing store for a full head-to-toe refresh.
About to pay, the owner chimed in.
"Don't you get sick of the same old outfit every day?"
Familiar face from repeat visits, perhaps.
To the loaded question implying I know your type, Jin turned to the full-length mirror.
Then angled his broad back toward it.
"Same how? Embroidery's different. This is a cross. Last one was... tiger? Dokkaebi?"
"No, I mean the style. Aviator jacket, jeans, leather boots. Always the same buys. Good looks wasted—no variation. Such a shame on a hanger."
"I like this."
Jin paid and left.
Then inexplicably tilted his head.
Am I the weird one?
Jin stuck to the style for no grand reason.
Just matched his arrival outfit in this world.
And he'd lived months in it.
Sentimental attachment, you could say.
Humans crave comfort in the familiar.
Jin especially so.
Rum Pump Pump: second floor, right corner.
Sleep: unmanned motel in South Downtown.
Breakfast: morning hot dog cart.
Coat: aviator jacket.
Pants: jeans.
A modest life's frame, filled with likes and preferences.
Letting him be himself.
Sometimes, worth protecting.
Jin crossed the streets.
And at some point.
Stepped through the door of a familiar tavern, edging back into that life's frame.
Ding-a-ling—
The bartender spotted Jin entering amid the clear bell chime, offering a faint smile.
"Jin."
"Hey, Poh."
Jin waved, heading to the central table, plopping into a chair and scanning the room.
"Busy tonight?"
"Grateful for it."
"All Solos?"
"Not all."
"Huh."
Jin quirked a brow.
Then lightly swept his gaze over patrons—maybe industry peers, maybe not.
Some eyes met.
Thankfully, no "What're you staring at?" vibes.
He hadn't glared with malice anyway.
Just a passing glance.
Head back in place, Jin addressed Poh.
"Kalifa in linker mode?"
"Yes. Mid-briefing. Busy since yesterday. Even had a VIP visitor."
"Ah, explains it."
"If she's tied up, I can relay later..."
"Nah. Got time."
Jin waved it off casually.
Poh nodded, and soon cookies and milk appeared on the table.
Ah, this hits the spot.
Jin's eyes lit up.
Menu blurs the line: bar or dessert cafe?
While others sip under sultry lights.
He savors sweet and nutty bliss alone.
Not wanting to disrupt the quiet vibe, he chewed softly instead of his usual chomps.
Poh, sensing it, smiled gently.
"Heard the news. Quite the exploits."
"Oh. Word got around?"
"How could it not?"
"Fair. I was pretty badass."
Jin nodded smugly: Mm-hmm, damn right.
Then it struck him.
Started at Rum Pump Pump, ballooned into clan-and-Styx scale.
Naturally, Kalifa's words resurfaced.
Fuzzy from feverish hearing, but recallable.
Actavis Company building collapsed that day.
City gov jumped on investigation.
(Possible only in 30s district.)
Revealed: employees colluded with black mages—or were them.
Unofficial leaks, not official release—but tanked Actavis stock anyway.
Plus rumors of a giant with severe burns at the collapse site fueled speculation.
Killgear moved? Murmurs.
Black Flame burned? Murmurs.
Solarad maybe? Murmurs.
Thus, Kalifa guessed many had pieced the puzzle.
And what else...
An itchy half-memory nagged; Jin pondered.
Poh, watching, spoke.
"Jin, heard this?"
"What?"
"Rum Pump Pump and Kingsgroom CCTV footage blowing up on Solo intranet lately."
"No?"
Jin tilted his head; Poh chuckled knowingly, palm out.
"Lend your terminal a sec?"
"Hm? Oh, sure."
Jin fumbled it from his pocket.
"Here."
Poh pressed chrome-coated fingertip to display.
A circular track traced clockwise from center.
Complete circle: video played.
"Hm?"
Jin frowned slightly.
Familiar scene.
Rum Pump Pump? Second floor.
But ablaze...
Next instant.
Overhead view: someone stomped the floor.
Purple lightning aura.
Closed distance in a flash, slamming foe down—ignoring flames and resistance, relentless fiery pinball.
"...Me?"
"As I thought, unaware."
Poh withdrew his hand.
"Kingsgroom clip too. Same protagonist revealed—your rep skyrocketed. Filled money and job quotas overnight."
Jin finally lifted from the screen.
Followed by amused voice.
"Congrats, Jin. Veteran already?"