The Lonely One
At the basement practice room in Seongsu-dong, Aki was having one last talk with the instructors who had coached her through her private lessons. The entire ten-week course was finally over.
Kim Ye-in, in charge of choreography, and Nam Jin-woo, in charge of camera work, were both grinning from ear to ear. The two of them looked genuinely proud that Aki had made it through to the end without a single hitch.
"You worked hard. A-yeong, you really didn’t arrive late even once. You always came prepared, memorized the lesson material, and carefully checked every file I gave you. Your improvement was remarkable."
"Ehehe, that’s because you taught me so well, though..."
"It was always intended as pro-level training, but it’s rare to see someone improve this much and walk out the door."
"Really?"
"Yes, truly. You’re impressive."
Even professionals tended to drop out halfway through, using their personal schedules or condition as an excuse. Aki, who had kept perfect attendance all the way to the end, was an unusually diligent trainee.
After checking the final checklist one last time, Kim Ye-in said, "You mentioned you have a live stream next week, right? At this rate, I think you’ll be able to put on a really great stage."
"Thank you!"
Then Nam Jin-woo picked up the conversation.
"Starting partway through the lessons, your understanding of camera work and spatial composition improved so much that I honestly couldn’t believe it. Did the company arrange separate studio lessons for you? Or maybe regular camera rentals?"
"Ah... I just bought the studio."
"What? The studio?"
"No, no, I mean... the studio..."
"?!"
Knowing the price of a 3D studio and the motion-capture equipment that went with it, Nam Jin-woo’s eyes practically popped out of his head.
"A 3D studio? Then the maintenance alone—workstations for rendering video, equipment upkeep, all of that has to cost an absurd amount."
"Well, um... someone from the company told me to do my best... hehe."
"Th-that’s incredible. Wait, do VTuber streams get that kind of investment these days...?"
"Hehe."
As Nam Jin-woo shook his head in amazement, Kim Ye-in voiced the curiosity she had been holding back for the first time.
"Is VTuber broadcasting really that expensive when you’re using a 3D model?"
"It depends on the quality of the stream. For an individual, maybe a few million won. But once you start adding proper tracking and motion capture... if you want to raise it to the level of an official company production, you can burn through hundreds of millions."
"Wow... so it’s not easy for VTubers either. Jin-woo, how did you even know all this?"
"I worked with an internet broadcasting company last year. Broadcast television only ever passed us the same old stale work, so internet broadcasts and web variety shows were actually easier to get our hands on. I don’t know what happened because of the new legislation, though..."
Nam Jin-woo shrugged. Kim Ye-in made a face and wiped at the side of her own cheek as if to smooth it back into place.
"Well, I guess idols spend billions on fixing this and that about their faces too, so it’s six of one, half a dozen of the other. I had no idea internet broadcasters invested that much, though..."
"Content production is a money-eating beast. In the end, you have to pour money into everything, not just human resources, before it can actually do its job."
"Sigh... this is why I can’t quit teaching lessons."
"It’s not that people don’t want to leave. They just can’t, because they don’t have the money. Still, there’s a reward in it, isn’t there? You get students like A-yeong who work hard and see everything through to the end."
"That’s true."
Aki listened to their conversation a little awkwardly.
People who gave up on creating because they had no money...
Even experts this accomplished had ended up quitting their creative lives because they ran out of money. It was the biggest filter and the cruelest ordeal for anyone trying to stand on a stage.
I really did get an unbelievable chance from Taek.
Her fingers fidgeted for a moment, and the only thought that remained in her mind was simple.
I should work hard.
Even if she was only a VTuber.
She still had a stage.
She still had wonderful fans and teammates.
She still had rival groups left to compete against.
Now that everyone had been swept away by the law, what kind of dreamlike situation was this?
So I’m going to do my best.
Aki clenched both fists tightly.
"Hup!"
So, for the next week, she would give it everything she had.
That was how a lesson worth sixty million won came to an end.
When she had first signed up, the number had been so frightening it had nearly brought tears to her eyes. But if she thought of it as the price of pushing her life several steps forward, then it hadn’t been expensive at all.
With that thought in mind, she bent at the waist in a deep ninety-degree bow.
"Thank you for everything!"
Aki stepped out into the hallway.
Before leaving the practice room, she pulled her own name tag off the timetable where it had been held in place with a magnet.
Click.
For a moment, she looked down at it.
...
The hallway outside the practice rooms was still crowded with the name tags of countless other trainees. They weren’t listed under private names, but under the corporate names of the entertainment companies that represented them.
And among them...
there was only one name booked as an individual.
Lee A-yeong.
At first, it had embarrassed her, because it looked so lonely.
But now she wasn’t embarrassed anymore.
- A-yeong will do well.
- A-yeong can definitely do it.
- A-yeong’s path is not wrong.
- I’m rooting for you.
After all, it was a name that Bigman himself had supported.
The coolest person in the world.
The kindest person in the world.
The person who was...
...cheering for her.
Taek believed in me, so I should keep going too.
...That was the resolve she carried with her.
Coming to the company had been fine.
But.
"What is this?"
Aki could only stare, bewildered.
White cloth had been hung from ropes all over the company. The chairs and tables from the conference room where they always held the Big Plan meetings had been cleared away, and straw mats were spread across the floor here and there.
There was even a huge basin and stacks upon stacks of salt.
In the middle of the conference room, a pretty older woman with white hair and a hanbok was standing there, holding a straw doll and a candle. Representative Baek Su-cheol stood beside her, rubbing his hands together and muttering.
"I beg you, I beg you. This time, please don’t let us fail, and please let everyone sit on piles of money..."
"Su-cheol, this isn’t that kind of rite. This is for driving out bad energy."
"I know, big sister. I’m just talking."
After answering the pretty older woman, he went right back to pleading with all the devotion of a man trying to kiss the ground.
"I beg you, I beg you..."
It was the desperate intensity of a slave calling on an ancient god.
Meanwhile, everyone else was in high spirits.
The members of ABCD, the RD members, and everyone affiliated with the Big Plan corporation were all standing in line, snickering as they washed their hands in the basin.
They each rinsed their hands in the salt water while chatting away.
"At this rate, we might as well make kimchi afterward."
"In the summer?"
"Then let’s just make cucumber kimchi."
"Oh, that’d go great with the knife-cut noodles I made yesterday."
"Ah, those? The older sisters kneaded the dough so badly it’s basically inedible."
"Waaah... sniff sniff..."
"Haerin, don’t cry~ If you cry, the company will go bankrupt again~"
"Waaah?"
In the middle of all that, DoDa even tried licking some salt directly. She spat it out in a hurry, and Ae-ri standing nearby grimaced in disgust.
"Tsk. That wasn’t sugar."
"Anyone can see it’s salt... the shaman is right over there getting ready to do a rite."
"That’s just Ae-ri’s prejudice."
"Let’s call it common sense..."
Aki went rigid at the sight of this utterly surreal scene.
Boss... in the end, you’ve fallen into a cult...
Aki was sad.
She hid her bitter expression beneath her baseball cap and started edging backward, preparing to escape. But she couldn’t get away, because Choi Ye-seo grabbed her shoulder from behind.
"A-yeong, you should wash your hands too."
"?!"
How could this be?
Even smart Ye-seo unnie has fallen for a cult...
"No, that’s not it..."
Ye-seo let out a long sigh and said, "Just think of it as the representative using his own money to put on an event and do him the favor of going along with it. He’s probably been so worried that he asked a family member who practices shamanism to help."
"A family member?"
"The person in charge of the rite over there."
"His daughter?"
"No, she says she’s his older sister."
"His older sister? Wait, in Korean, does that mean daughter?"
"Onee-san."
...
Aki was genuinely stunned.
She turned her head and looked at Baek Su-cheol, who was still kneeling on the floor. No matter how she looked at him, he was a middle-aged man with wrinkles all over his face. Standing next to Baek Hyang, he looked even older.
Seeing her expression, Ye-seo smiled bitterly.
"I was shocked too when I first saw her. Anyway..."
At that moment, a clear, bright voice rang out.
It was Baek Hyang speaking.
"I’m beginning now. Everyone, move aside."
"!"
"!"
"!"
Then, patting the head of Su-cheol, who had been rubbing his hands beside her, she spoke with a tenderness that seemed almost startling when she touched the head of a man old enough to be her father.
"Big sister needs to concentrate now. Su-cheol, just stay over there and watch quietly."
"Ah, okay."
Baek Su-cheol hurried over to the others in the company. He nearly tripped over the basin in the middle, but somehow managed not to fall.
In the end, the only person left in the conference room was Baek Hyang.
...
There were straw mats spread all over the conference room.
In the center of the room sat the straw doll.
A candle flame flickered before it.
Baek Hyang scooped up a handful of the salt water from the basin.
"Hoo."
She took a deep breath.
Her white eyelashes trembled.
And with that, the air in the room froze solid.
Baek Hyang said, "I make my plea to the Sun and Moon Spirit. Whatever came from elsewhere, I will send this calamity back to where it belongs."
"Stray souls, mistaken guests, lost gods..."
"Let what goes, go. Let what remains, remain..."
She drew dried mugwort and a small pine branch from her chest, then set them one by one over the candle flame.
With a sharp, grassy scent, a little smoke curled upward.
Strangely enough, they didn’t flare up in a burst of fire. They simply vanished in silence.
"What goes, goes. What remains, remains..."
Baek Hyang covered her head with a white cloth. Because her hair was already white, it hardly stood out at all. Then she slowly began to dance.
Slowly.
Very slowly...
As if drawing pictures with the tips of her fingers, the white-clad woman traced the sun and moon over the straw mats.
Aki and Ye-seo stared at her, dazed.
...
...
The dance went on for a long time.
It lasted for nearly two hours.
Slowly,
very slowly,
Baek Hyang sat down in silence.
Like a magnolia petal falling in spring, the hem of her white hanbok fluttered and sank to the floor.
...
At last, she stretched one hand toward the east, scattering a little more of the salt water. Then she said, "It’s done."
"!"
At the same moment, Su-cheol came running in with a can of soda in his hand.
"Oh! You worked so hard, big sister. Do you want some soda?"
"..."
"Big sister?"
"Su-cheol."
"Yes?"
"Show me your office."
"Huh?"
At Baek Hyang’s request, Baek Su-cheol opened his office.
"Here."
...
Baek Hyang slowly looked around the room. The others, apparently bored by the rite, had wandered off somewhere. So the only people who followed her in were Aki and Ye-seo.
"?"
"?"
What is she doing...?
Under the gaze of the three of them, Baek Hyang inspected the room with sharp eyes, then fixed her attention on one spot. She pointed to the gold plaque with the five-colored thread hanging from it and said, "There it is. You say you don’t worship an idol, but you’re worshiping one properly enough."
"?"
Aki was slightly startled.
"The Bigman plaque?"
Baek Hyang turned around.
"Bigman?"
"Ah, well..."
It was Su-cheol who answered.
"There’s someone who’s been helping our company since the really hard days. We don’t know his face or where he lives... but since he was like a benefactor to us, we hung up the thread for him. Why? Is there something wrong with that?"
Baek Hyang shook her head.
"No. It’s exact."
"Then?"
"This person..."
"That person?"
"Has been taking your calamity in your place. That’s why there isn’t a single bad energy left to drive out. What he’s doing is something a human body was never meant to endure."
"What?"
Still holding the plaque, Baek Hyang closed her eyes and thought.
...
It was a familiar kind of energy.
At some point in the distant past, a human named Baek Hyang found that one month no longer came to an end.
Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow—one month repeated over and over again, endlessly.
It was a prison without bars, a pain locked inside the cage of eternity.
Once. Twice. Three times.
No one knew when it would ever end.
Her younger brother died.
Her parents died.
The man who lived next door died too.
Whenever she managed to save someone, they vanished in a sudden burst of gas explosion, gone with a bang.
When she ran far away, regression dragged her back.
All she could do was walk the streets and curse the people who repeated the same words every day.
She ran into the mountains like a beast and howled until her throat tore.
In time, she became a beast herself.
And only after countless stretches of time did she finally understand, beneath the compassionate spirit and under the Sun and Moon Spirit, that all of this had been for the sake of saving hundreds of lives.
...
But even then, one question remained.
How was she supposed to save a younger brother who died on the very first day of the regression?
How was she supposed to save the people who died on that same first day?
How?
...
The answer was there.
The road to saving everything began with connections.
Baek Hyang opened her eyes.
...
The familiar energy was coming from the plaque.
Bigman.
The one who was taking calamity in place of others.
He was struggling inside eternity.
...
She could feel it dimly.
But the weight of his karma was so much heavier than anything Baek Hyang had ever carried. She couldn’t even tell how many ages he would have to endure before it could be lifted.
If what Baek Hyang had once borne was a rock,
what he had to carry was a mountain.
How much connection would it take, I wonder...
And yet.
He was doing it.
Without any god’s help.
He was rebuilding a collapsing mountain with his own two hands.
"That isn’t the path of a human being."
It was.
The path of a god.
Aki listened to Baek Hyang’s mutter and found herself whispering too.
"Bigman..."
...
Maybe she had whispered it as well.
Baek Su-cheol drove home with Baek Hyang in his car, only for the two of them to head back out again after a brief stop.
"I’m taking big sister home and then coming right back! Everyone else, just handle your own business until then!"
"You could just go home and clock out, you know."
"Hey, Chief Choi, you—!"
And with that, the employees all drifted back to their own places.
"It was surprisingly fascinating."
"But it really did take a long time."
"She was gorgeous, wasn’t she?"
"It felt like we were on a film set..."
As the others buzzed and chatted their way back to work, Aki hesitated in front of the president’s open office door. The plaque kept flickering in her vision. More precisely, the five-colored thread hanging from it kept snagging at her eyes.
...
You’re taking calamity in their place. That’s why there isn’t a single bad energy left to drive out. What he’s doing is something a human body was never meant to endure.
It might have been superstition.
It might have been nonsense.
...
And yet.
It felt wrong.
...
It was wrong in exactly the way that fit too neatly.
Because the life Aki had seen Seonwoo Taek live had been exactly that kind of thing.
So it felt wrong.
...
Still, superstition is basically just a box full of things that sound like that...
Aki let out a sigh. It didn’t seem good to let herself get tossed around by superstition, so she closed the president’s office door.
Creak—
After all, humans were the ones who solved problems.
Right?
The door shut.
Click!
Aki turned to leave, then paused.
...
After a moment of hesitation, she sighed.
Then she opened the door again.
Bang!
Aki strode into the office, snatched the five-colored thread, and hurried back out while glancing nervously over her shoulder. Her heart was pounding as if she were doing something wicked.
"Boss... I’m sorry...! I’ll give it to Bigman, and after the live I’ll put it back where it belongs...!"
She bolted away in a fluster.
No one saw her do it.