The Doll Born of Longing

Humans are social animals. They've said that since ancient times.

To sum it up, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠means you can't survive on your own.

You could dissect it further, but that's not the point.

I wholeheartedly agree with that saying.

What the hell am I supposed to do if I can't go outside?!

I was the perfect example right now.

I groaned, pressing my temples hard. Deep in thought.

On the floor lay the remnants of my so-called food stock: a couple of cup ramen cups and half a bottle of cola.

Fuck.

At this rate, I wouldn't last a day.

It's not like nuclear war had broken out or anything. The reason I was pulling this shit was simple—I couldn't go out to buy food!

Just grabbing the doorknob made me want to puke, and actually stepping outside might send me into shock and kill me.

I stared at the stuff on the floor with a worried frown.

Delivery! There's delivery!

A brilliant idea flashed into my head.

This is Korea! Land of delivery... whatever!

But then I hit another wall. Deliveries get left at the door. The moment I open it, my heart would stop.

And telling them to come inside? That'd make me an asshole. Plus, I've got anthropophobia.

Is this for real?

Pretty trash. Never thought that'd be me.

"Haaah..."

I let out a deep sigh. No future in sight. I needed a breakthrough.

I'm not a mayfly; I can't survive on two cup ramens.

I glared resentfully at my computer. Back when I was assigning stats... just do it halfway, why don't you.

Can't change the past anyway.

"Ugh..."

I ruffled my hair. All my plans had been shot down.

"Point Shop!"

Clutching at faint hope that maybe I'd misread the trait removal cost, I shouted.

I stared at it blankly. Hope turned to despair in an instant.

To overcome one trait, I'd need to chuck 2,000 grenades.

Damn, at that rate, I'd need a factory.

No wonder they gave me high stats, you piece of shit!

And my traits are a double whammy. No hope in sight.

"Ugh..."

I clutched the back of my neck, nearly passing out.

Unless I planned to live my whole life without seeing another soul, I had to climb the Tower.

Points only come from the Tower or achievements.

What was the Tower? Some unknown realm full of treasure that humanity had to conquer!

Or so they said. With a whopping 10% mortality rate.

Go in, come out, and nine out of ten are dead!

It all boiled down to one thing.

There were traits worth noting here.

Puppet Creation. And Puppet Control.

The job itself was Puppeteer. Summoners like this usually hang back and fight dirty from afar. No point rushing forward and getting shredded.

Anyway, this Puppeteer gig seemed to let me create and control puppets.

All my hope was riding on this.

Pleeease, a humanoid puppet!

The puppet goes out shopping, brings food home. Pays the rent too... Mix up some voice clips from my old self, project it, and no one suspects a thing.

Perfect.

But if it's a teddy bear or some shit?

Then I'm fucked. Starvation city.

Or I'd dive into the Tower for points and die trying.

"Aaaah... please, pleeease!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, clasped my hands, and dropped to my knees in prayer.

God, pleeease!

I begged until tears welled up. And activated Puppet Creation.

Text appeared before my eyes.

My own teardrops hit the floor.

Plip.

From there, something began to form. Like threads unraveling and weaving into shape.

I gaped in shock. Unbelievable.

And then.

"..."

A black-haired woman stood there. The kind of beauty that hits you instantly. Dressed sharply in a suit.

She turned her head. Red eyes gleamed coldly as they fixed on me.

Hiiieek...

Terror beyond anything—even facing down a bully. My body shook uncontrollably. I just stared up, face drained of color.

She gazed at me steadily.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning me like prey.

Save me. Save me. Save me. Save me. Saaaave meeee!

I didn't know what she was or why I was shaking.

Who asks what a tiger is doing? You just run.

She stepped closer. Thud, thud. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"...Puppeteer."

At the moment I thought I was done for, her voice rang out.

I cracked my eyes open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just a sliver to check.

She bowed elegantly, like a maid.

"Your first puppet greets the great Puppeteer. Fear not."

"...P-puppet?"

She didn't look like any puppet, no matter how I squinted.

I stammered back, looking pathetic.

She nodded.

"I am the puppet granted life by your call, Puppeteer. How could I not be?"

"..."

My face went blank.

So, to recap: I summoned a puppet, and I got scared?

Ah...

What an idiot!

Wait, but what if she turns hostile? Too early to relax.

As if reading my mind, she spoke up.

"How could a puppet slay its Puppeteer? You hold the strings—we marionettes merely dance."

"S-so, you won't attack?"

I gulped, asking without realizing I'd slipped into polite speech.

She nodded affirmatively.

"Of course. For the same reason. Without the Puppeteer, no puppet exists."

"Ah... aaaah..."

Tension drained, and I flopped over. Pathetic display.

I eyed the puppet cautiously again.

She stayed bowed. Probably locked in place until I ordered otherwise.

Should I just leave her like this?

Wonder if she'd hold it all day? Curiosity flickered, but now wasn't the time.

"Ahem, ahem. You're good. At ease."

Embarrassed, I cleared my throat awkwardly.

Here I was, the summoner, putting on a clown show.

Only then did she straighten, looking down at me with a smile.

"How cute."

"Wh-what?!"

I jolted. Me? Cute? In this world?

My face flushed beet red. I stared at her, dazed.

"Ah, just my personal impression. Forget it if it offends."

"Y-yeah... sure."

Why was I still being polite? I made her, dammit.

Fix that later. Priority now:

"You're... a puppet, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you do—oh! Right! I forgot to ask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your name!"

Too hectic!

I fumbled belatedly. First thing when meeting someone: name.

Wait. Do puppets even have names?

She tilted her head.

"My name... you're asking?"

"Yeah."

"I have none. Merely the First Puppet. But I'd be overjoyed if you named me."

Name her?

I blinked.

Makes sense. People name their comfort dolls all the time. And I'd see a lot of her.

First Puppet! Sounds cool!

"Hmm..."

I hummed thoughtfully.

Black hair, stacked figure, suit, red eyes... And for activities here, a Korean name fits.

"Yuseon... Han Yuseon. How's that?"

"Perfect."

She—no, Han Yuseon—smiled contentedly.

No way I'd admit it was my first love's name.

Then.

Ding.

Ooh...

Special achievement! Fucking awesome!

But 'special' and only 10 points?

What? Why am I tearing up when I should be happy...

Han Yuseon eyed me curiously.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nah... just saw my future."

A pretty bleak one, too...