If You’re the One Who Stayed With Me - 2

A-yeong waved and started to head back. Seeing her bright expression, it seemed the shock had worn off, and even her anger had cooled. I felt bad—and grateful—that she no longer asked me why.

She turned back and said, “Dinner tonight.”

“….”

“As punishment for playing that weird prank.”

“….”

Never mind. She was still a little sulky.

I replied, “Yes, you can order whatever you like. We can close up the convenience store, go out, and eat before coming back. A buffet, a course meal… if you want, we can even go all the way to a five-star hotel. I’ve got plenty of money.”

“!”

An offer I’d never have even dreamed of making in any other cycle.

I could throw money around with a flourish on the very first day.

A-yeong looked back at me, then let out a snort of laughter.

“Can we bring Do-dam too?”

“…!”

So Do-dam remembers too. Well, the traces of Father Kwon and the orphanage people are still here, so I guess that includes the fact that we used to go volunteer together.

If anything, I welcomed it.

I nodded. “Yes. I don’t mind bringing more people. I can even book out the whole place.”

“Hehe, that’s too much. Anyway, you said it first, oppa. I’ll look forward to it, then?”

“Yes.”

“Then… ah, right.”

“?”

A-yeong grinned under her baseball cap. The smile hidden beneath the shadow carried a wicked little glint, the kind that belonged to someone enjoying a prank.

“Then let’s call Mom, Dr. Jang, Pastor, and Father Kwon too. How about that?”

“!”

When I heard those names,

I actually felt like I’d been saved.

I said, “Everyone. Everyone’s welcome.”

“Pfft! You were always generous, but you’re really generous today. I’m just kidding, so don’t worry about it too much.”

“….”

“Then I’m really going now.”

“Yes. Take care.”

I waved her off as she left.

Even from farther away,

she still waved both hands at me, vigorously.

“….”

For the first time.

I’d told someone to come back.

“….”

And that.

Made me.

A little happy.

“Right. I’ve got work to do.”

I forced my still-wobbling legs up the stairs and returned to the rooftop room. I switched on the computer there.

I pulled out the chair,

then sank into it.

“….”

And started tapping at the keyboard.

Click.

Click.

“….”

It was the same thing I’d done countless times in the previous cycle.

I knew it well.

But.

It still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt unfamiliar.

“….”

It’s the first time I’ve ever been somewhere other than a studio apartment at the beginning of a cycle. And when was the last time I didn’t go out first thing in the morning to buy a lottery ticket…?

Before the regression began,

it felt as if I’d stepped back into ordinary life.

With that awkward feeling clinging to me, I surfed the internet.

I looked into things from every angle.

I searched by switching between various keywords, mostly the ones tied to the things I’d focused on during the last cycle. It took about two hours to comb through everything thoroughly.

“….”

Results of the investigation.

The odd points I found were these:

1. Bigman was gone.

2. ABCD’s growth story had changed.

3. Everything else was still the same.

First, Bigman.

The persona I’d created, the nickname for the “big spender” supporting ABCD. In the previous cycle, though, it had grown into a brand that overshadowed my real name, Seonwoo Taek.

“….”

I never imagined people would love someone who just flung money around that much….

I hadn’t watched the community much in the previous cycle.

But even from the livestream chat alone, I could tell it had become a kind of meme. It wasn’t as though I’d set out to do that, but “Bigman” had become something that thrilled people and influenced the shape of the wider conversation itself.

And now that “Bigman” no longer existed,

I couldn’t find any trace of that presence anywhere.

Not even that tacky catchphrase survived.

- I’m a natural disaster made of money.

- Please act naturally.

“….”

Those were both things I only said once, so where did everybody learn them and spread them around?… In the end, A-yeong even thought I’d been dropping those lines every single day.

In a strange way,

I was relieved the catchphrases had disappeared.

Next was ABCD.

I’d assumed that with Bigman’s disappearance, they would have fallen back into being obscure little VTubers. After all, the source of the viewers and growth they’d accumulated had been Bigman’s capital.

“….”

And I’d steeled myself to start over from Live Future again.

But…

To my surprise, ABCD were still active on Pazijik. They had broken out of the tiny platform and settled onto a major one.

And they even had proper 3D models now.

“….”

But there was one huge difference from the previous cycle.

I looked at the paper that listed ABCD’s changes.

The budget path had changed too,

and the scale had been cut down to 25 percent.

The showcase had even been replaced by a simple PV.

To be precise,

over the past three months, from February to April, ABCD had grown naturally without Bigman.

That was earlier than my regression date of May 1.

In other words, the past had changed.

“….”

So Aki-chan won the Live Future contest, got a 100 million won prize, paid for the album production and the 3D model, and then kept broadcasting on Pazijik for a few months after that…?

A contest.

A first-place prize.

3D and an album.

It was a natural growth story.

The kind of effort story that could absolutely have happened.

But the important thing was this:

It was clearly different from the previous cycle.

The fact that the past had changed was unsettling.

And there was one more thing that bothered me.

“….”

Why is everyone’s performance still close to what it was at the end of the previous cycle?

Different from the previous cycle.

The past of this cycle.

ABCD’s PV in the video.

With the exception of the lower video quality, their performance was almost identical to the final livestream from the previous cycle. It honestly looked as if the old versions of them had come over and filmed it instead.

[GO! We’re opening the door to tomorrow!]

[Even in a broken rhythm, I keep believing in myself]

“….”

Aki-chan, especially, was the best of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all.

She ripped across the stage alone, overwhelming everything in her path. It looked like her singing ability had been preserved from a future that didn’t exist in this timeline.

Her pronunciation should’ve still been pretty sloppy and unstable at this point too….

Except when she got flustered.

Even now, she was incredibly clear.

It was as if only her skill had been borrowed from the future of the previous cycle.

“….”

Finally,

I looked at the papers on the computer desk.

They were the contract documents for Fly Note, a music distribution company specializing in subculture releases. In exchange for repaying the debt and covering operating costs, the company would recognize me as its chairman.

“….”

Without Big Plan, why would a document like this even exist…?

Bigman and Big Plan were both gone.

But somehow,

the only thing that had remained in my hands was one company.

I couldn’t make sense of what that difference meant, no matter how hard I tried.

“….”

Bigman.

Big Plan.

The 1 billion won incident.

All of that had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vanished, and in its place, the leftover scraps had been forcibly wedged into the past of the people who still existed. And what remained firmly with Seonwoo Taek was connection.

“….”

This change,

I didn’t understand it.

What in the world was different?

Karma and connection.

“….”

What, exactly, was karma?

And what was connection?

And what were that voice, that light, and the bracelet?

I stared for a while at the empty skin of my left wrist. Then I looked out the window.

“….”

The source of everything, the five-colored bracelet.

I would have to uncover that too.

The path to it must lie within ABCD’s growth.

“….”

If I asked “the current A-yeong” about it… she probably wouldn’t know. That was something that should exist in the future.

Either way,

there was only one thing to do.

Even if I didn’t understand what had happened to me,

if what remained with me was connection,

then I would give them everything I had.

With all the strength I possessed.

“….”

Still, I should buy a lottery ticket first.

Of course, it wasn’t for me.

It was only to divide up some funds for the people who had stayed with me this time, so they’d have support for the road ahead.

Besides, if I hog the lottery winnings all by myself, someone as ruthless and persistent as Jeong Yu-ri might come sniffing around….

Time passed, and by 8 p.m., only Do-dam and Dr. Jang had joined us in the end. The four of us ate dinner together and came back to find the sky completely dark. We returned to the lounge to let our food settle.

While everyone sat in their own spots,

I sat blankly in a chair in the lounge.

“….”

My eyes stayed fixed on the TV.

The lottery draw broadcast was about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to begin.

Either way,

the result would be the same.

“….”

…It’ll be the same, right?

Dr. Jang let out a burp from the lounge sofa.

“Brrgh…! Good heavens, eating that fine-dining stuff or whatever left me absolutely stuffed. Thanks to you, Taek, this old man’s living in luxury. You could’ve just left me behind and gone to eat with the young ladies.”

“Not at all. This is between you and me, Dr. Jang.”

“Heh-heh, well now. Ever since you handed me ten million won and told me to go to Europe, I’ve had the feeling… I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to repay your kindness before I die.”

“….”

You already have.

Because you stayed with me.

But I didn’t say it.

Do-dam was sitting next to Dr. Jang.

And she was poking his belly with one finger, completely rude about it. She, too, was too full to move properly, and yet she still had the energy to torment him. It was a strangely unguarded sort of behavior.

“Pyo-pyo-pyo-pyo.”

“Hey now, short-haired lady. Is it fun bullying this old man?”

“Pyo-pyo-pyo.”

“Honestly. I really don’t understand kids these days.”

A-yeong, from the massage chair, gave a wry smile.

“Hehe, sorry. Do-dam isn’t being mean on purpose.”

“Heh-heh, I know that much.”

“Pyo-pyo-pyo-pyo.”

“Do-dam….”

At that moment,

the lottery draw began.

Dr. Jang chuckled and pulled out his lottery slip.

“My, it’s starting. Taek, I thought you were a rational fellow, but then you suddenly tried to strong-arm us into buying tickets because you ‘saw good numbers in a dream.’”

“….”

Do-dam had pulled out her ticket before I knew it too.

“Mr. Hong’s sorcery. Let’s see it in action…!”

“….”

A-yeong also took out her lottery slip beside us.

“Hehe, Mom said she just thinks of it as donating five thousand won to the country.”

“….”

I, too, took out my lottery slip without a word.

Dr. Jang laughed.

“Oh! That’s pretty sharp, isn’t it? Looks like you’ve already won back your five thousand won. That’s lucky enough. If all four of us pool together and hit even fourth place, that’s still a big deal.”

Do-dam clapped her hands.

“Whoa! Mr. Hong’s sorcery is insane! If the four of us get fourth place, isn’t that 200,000 won? That’s a huge win, right?”

A-yeong gave a small, uneasy sound.

“Uh, w-wait…? We, all four of us…?”

“Good heavens…?”

“Huh…?”

The sixth number was announced.

Suddenly, the room went cold.

All three of them swallowed hard and looked down at their lottery slips.

“….”

“….”

“….”

A-yeong muttered, “No way.”

She looked at her ticket.

[5, 18, 21, 11, 8, 27]

And all four of us had the exact same numbers.

Including me.

“….”

“….”

“….”

“….”

At 2.5 billion won per person,

we split the lottery winnings

and, right as the regression began, filled the pot to 10 billion won.