1. That Karsein... Is Me?

So that Karsein... is me?

Finally.

The moment I'd been waiting for until my neck nearly snapped from craning had arrived. Every preparation was complete—the turning point that would sever my sick and tired life was finally here. From the instant I gripped that doorknob and swung it open, from the moment the front gate opened and I flung what was in my hand at them and delivered my parting words, I would be free.

Free of this godforsaken house, of all places.

Swollen with liberation, with exhilaration, and with an indescribable anticipation besides, I threw the door wide open.

The gate clicked open. It had been a full week since I last set foot in this place.

Not that I felt anything special about it. All it did was make my eyes flinch at the sight of wavy hair freshly dyed pink just days ago.

"Hey. Where the hell have you been running around for a week, coming back only now?"

The first to greet me was my second-oldest sister, arms crossed, wearing a look of righteous fury. The type who never found a single thing to her liking and did nothing but nitpick. Here she was, savoring her freedom as a full-fledged college student, yet the moment I became an adult, she couldn't wait to start flinging curses my way.

Of course, "second" meant there was an oldest too. The eldest in the house—excluding our parents—opened fire on me in rapid succession.

"Unbelievable. You hated tutoring your little sister that much? I'm busy carrying on the family business as it is, and the fact that I have to step in personally like this is a loss to this entire family, you know that?"

My eldest sister, well on her way to inheriting our parents' business. She'd always resented me, of all people, being the one with the most free time in the house, going on about how family came first no matter what.

And then, the younger sister who'd brought up the tutoring in the first place.

"Ugh, this is all your fault! The exam's in a few days, what am I supposed to do?!"

Out popped the brat who'd bleached her hair blonde and spent her days gallivanting around. Four years younger than me, and she dared to talk down to me. Fine, I never expected honorifics in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first place, but she had this trademark way of wheedling that never failed to make my life difficult. Even when I actually tutored her, she'd whine about how terrible I was at explaining things, then scurry off to Mom or my eldest or second sister to tattle.

When she didn't have the slightest intention of studying properly to begin with.

Weren't there supposed to be one more of them?

There should have been one more woman who would've come scurrying out the moment she heard I was back. Somehow, though, she seemed to be out right now.

Oh well. One less doesn't matter.

Missing one person changed nothing. They'd pass the message along among themselves well enough.

I pulled a thick envelope from my inner pocket and tossed it.

"Kim Minhyuk. Are you ignoring us right now—"

"Oh my god, Mom!"

"You little—!"

Thud.

The envelope, stuffed so full its weight and volume had ballooned, hit the floor with a surprisingly heavy sound.

"Kim Minhyuk. What is this? A week of total silence, and the first thing you do when you come home is hurl garbage at us?"

The eldest was the first to glower and snap at me.

"What if you'd hit me? You—you're dead, I'm telling Mom everything!"

The youngest, whom I'd apparently thrown it near, announced in advance that she'd be running to tattle too.

"You little punk...! Is this on purpose because Mom told you not to hit me?"

The second sister went without saying—the look on her face said her hand was itching. One glance at her expression told me she was absolutely livid.

Regardless, I gave the three women vague non-answers and turned on my heel.

"I've got what I came for. I'm off. Throw the rest out or don't, your call."

"What?! Hey! Kim Minhyuk!"

"Unnie, what's wrong with him? Did he actually eat something bad or what?"

"Ha. First things first, this rock needs to go. God, this thing's heavy... hnngh. I'll take it out."

"I'm sorry. Once I hear why he pulled this stunt, I'll give him a proper scolding."

The second sister went to clear away the trash that had entered her house, while the eldest started chasing after me again.

"Kim Minhyuk! Where do you think you're going? Come back right now. Mother will be home any minute."

"Why would I?"

"You've worried everyone sick, and now you're just going to toss your garbage in the house and leave again without a word? Are you kidding me right now?"

Garbage, was it. Well, fair enough, I suppose.

From a family that wealthy, it probably did look like garbage.

If this was how it would go, I should've just skipped straight to the point.

"No need to chase me. I'm not coming back this time."

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"What does it sound like? I'm leaving home."

"Gasp."

The youngest, who'd chased after me in her slippers, slapped a hand over her mouth at those words.

"Ha. You've officially lost your mind. I don't know where you're going, but you're just going to walk out again without even your family's permission?"

"I'm done talking. I let a taxi sit there waiting—that cost me."

"The guy too cheap to pay for a taxi is leaving home? Yeah, right. You'll be crawling back in no time. You've never held down a real job—how long can you last without money? And when you crawl back, you'd better be ready."

As if that would happen. The eldest laughed at me, but I didn't stop walking toward the taxi.

"Shall we head out, sir?"

"Yes. The destination is—"

Ugh, the fare stings. It went up a few hundred won while I was sitting there, too.

Once in the taxi, I rolled down the window and left them with one final line.

"The cost of raising me—I already paid it back. You just never bothered to check."

Vroooom—

The taxi pulled away, and with one last glimpse of the eldest sneering after me, I could finally turn my back on them for good.

That's right. Today was the day I walked out of this house. Even coming back after a whole week away was only ever for the sake of delivering that one line.

They were rich enough that money meant nothing to them, but still. Who knew what kind of loophole they might try to find in it?

It wasn't dirty money—it was earned with my own hands from part-time work, so they wouldn't have a leg to stand on. I'd guarantee I'd repaid more than what it cost to raise me.

Family. Permission.

The eldest's words suddenly floated back to me.

It wasn't lingering attachment. It was just that bile was rising up my throat.

Did any of you ever treat me like family?

You shunned me, tormented me, all because I wasn't your flesh and blood. And now, of all times, I'm supposed to hear the word "family"? My blood was boiling.

And what was that? Permission?

If you'd actually thought of me as family, you wouldn't have demanded permission—you'd have talked it over with me.

You were the absolute worst, right down to the very end.

All through elementary school, middle school, and high school, the textbooks answered that word the same way.

Family is an unbreakable bond. As they say, blood is thicker than water—the closest, deepest connection of all. That's how they defined it.

There was more, so much more. The people who'll help you when times are hardest. Those who share happiness within a home, unbroken until your dying breath, and so on and so forth.

It was never something that fit in a tidy little definition. It should've taken whole paragraphs stretched out long and involved.

And here I was, out of that house, recalling all of it, and a hollow laugh escaped me on its own.

What a joke.

Pile on every idealized sentence in existence, dress it all up in beautiful words—none of it would ever reach me.

I still remembered it vividly. The looks that rained down on me the day I first stepped into that house—cold, jagged, stinging.

After those gazes, soaked in contempt and disgust, had pierced through me, not a single moment in that house had ever been comfortable. Not even in the one place that should have been warmest and safest of all—home.

But all of that ended today. Back in my school days, I'd been powerless, forced to keep leaning on that house just to survive. Now, with the college entrance exams behind me, I was no longer helpless.

Money I'd quietly squirreled away—studying whenever I could squeeze in the time while secretly working part-time jobs—had turned into a deposit for a tiny one-room apartment.

I'd gained the strength to live in this world on my own.

That's right. So-called escape.

I had escaped that sick and tired house.

Granted, I'll have to grind the part-time jobs even harder to cover rent, tuition, and living expenses all on my own... but so what?

Just never having to lay eyes on those women again was enough. No—it was the only happiness that mattered.

Lost in thoughts like that, I realized the taxi had already pulled up at my destination.

Shaking off every stray thought, I headed to my part-time job, same as always.

The shift flew by in a blur. Maybe it was because the day felt sweet for once—I barely registered how the hours passed. By the time I came back to myself, I was actually being told it was time to clock out.

"Minhyuk, aren't you working a little too hard? Goodness, honestly. How does your closing time come around and you don't even notice?"

A middle-aged woman's sigh drifted over. The owner.

"Is it that late already?"

"Wrap things up and get out of here. You work so hard I feel like I ought to give you something."

I scratched my head, a little embarrassed, and slipped into the staff room, then finished up the last of the cleanup before coming back out. In the meantime, the manager had been in the kitchen cooking up something that filled the air with a sweet and spicy fragrance.

The last remaining customer handed me a drink as I finished—specifically, an energy tonic.

"Here, drink up. I'm the reason your shift ran late, aren't I? Haha."

"It wasn't really late. And it wasn't because of you, ma'am..."

"Still. You looked swamped. You should eat while you work, you know."

I tried to refuse, but when the manager emerged from the kitchen and barked, "Just take it!" in mock anger, I had no choice but to accept.

"Have a good one~."

The last customer, the one who'd given me the tonic, grinned and stepped out the door.

The manager handed me a takeout bag as she locked up, and only then was the day's work truly done.

"Time really does fly, huh."

It was the first time I could remember it moving this fast when I'd done nothing but work. There had been days when I'd sworn the clock was crawling just to spite me. Now, with the cleanup finished besides, the sun had already set outside.

"What's with all the moaning about time? We're the same age, you know."

"Obviously we're the same age. What, you think I'm your little brother or something?"

"I looked up the school records—my birthday comes first. So either way, I'm your noona, right?"

"Not a chance. Not a single bit of that tracks."

Jieun, a fellow part-timer, came over niggling away. Technically, she was some kind of relative of the owner's—the details were fuzzy.

Anyway. She was the grateful acquaintance who'd found me this job in the first place, and a friend who'd taught me the ropes in all sorts of ways.

"Sniff sniff. Smells like our auntie packed this for you because she's proud of you again. Well, you are diligent, Minhyuk."

"...Isn't this just average, though?"

"Ugh. When you say it like that, it makes me sound like I slack off!"

"Because you do. If I added up all your break time, I'd have to dock at least an hour or two."

"Hey! You're supposed to take little breaks here and there when you work. And it's all relative! You work so hard it makes me look lazy, that's all!"

Jieun launched into a long, aggrieved explanation of what I'd been like when I'd first started the job.

I'd never thought about it before, but listening to her... maybe she had a point. I'd barely rested at all.

"Ugh... you really ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are something, in so many ways."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

At my deadpan response, Jieun gave up with an exasperated look and changed the subject.

"Ahem. So, Minhyuk—have you tried it yet? The thing I sent you about over text?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you about, actually."

"I mean... I was just curious how you'd handle it. My playthrough's gotten nowhere, and... whatever! You were tempted too, weren't you? You said you needed the money."

"I did, yeah."

"Right? Hehe."

It would've been a lie to say I wasn't tempted. Fifty million won—fifty million—as the prize for being the first person ever to clear the game? That was more than enough to tempt anyone.

With that kind of money, I could easily keep living apart from my family, put off worrying about tuition and rent for a good long while.

But a prize like that didn't come dangling for no reason.

"I couldn't get anywhere near beating it."

"Huh, you too?"

"'You too'? How overrated am I to you people, exactly?"

Certain game genres are notoriously brutal—fighting games, rhythm games, bullet hells. Hardcore titles built for the pursuit of absolute mastery.

The game Jieun had introduced me to wasn't like that at all.

It was made with something called RPG Maker—an ancient, creaky tool of a bygone era—and the genre was one where technique, familiarity, even outright exploits simply refused to work. Nothing stuck.

"It didn't feel like a simple RPG Maker game at all. I thought the choices were fixed, but just sleeping in longer and shifting when I woke up changed things. Every single one of those tiny variations had consequences."

"Wow... wouldn't the number of possible choices balloon out of control, then?"

"It would. Except the range doesn't really narrow—it just keeps expanding. The game doles out hints little by little as you go."

"Hmm. You sound awfully certain. You've figured something out, haven't you?"

"...Well. Something, maybe."

"I knew it! I figured if anyone could find it, it'd be you."

Tell me, how far did you get—she pressed me for answers.

And when I tried to summon the game I'd been playing... a hollow laugh rose up before I could stop it.

Of course. What else could it be.

It had never been made to be cleared in the first place.

Don't waste your time on it. Just give up. It was probably made purely to mess with people— hack, hack!

The cough that came and went from time to time was unusually harsh today. As if that weren't enough, something bitter welling up in my throat came with it.

Only after thin spittle had splattered across the ground and several more ragged breaths rasped out of me did the coughing finally stop. Jieun, worry written across her face, held out a handkerchief. I shook my head and declined.

"Are you really okay? It's not too late even now—shouldn't you go to the emergency room?"

"...It's nothing that serious. I'm just tired today, that's all."

"Still..."

"I'll head in and rest first. I've lost my appetite anyway—here, you eat this."

"Huh? Oh—M-Minhyuk!"

A deflated little awww echoed behind me, but I didn't notice it at all.

Along with those occasional harsh coughs, the conversation about the game came to a natural end.

Back home, I found myself soaking in an unfamiliar calm. Sure, I'd washed with cold water instead of hot, and I'd flopped onto a stiff mat rather than a soft bed—but the quiet stillness was deeply satisfying.

My own little haven. A space of rest where no one could bother me.

The simple fact that I had a place to call home pleased me more than I could say.

But the stillness didn't last long.

Weee— Weee—

Wondering what it was, I glanced at my ringing phone: ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an incoming call from an unknown number. Without much thought, I answered.

"Oh, you picked up...! Minhyuk, is that you? Hold on, hold on, talk to your noona. Okay?"

Click.

"Talk to your noona," my ass.

I knew exactly who it was the moment I heard the voice. The second sister.

Even with her number blocked outright, my phone was drowning in messages, texts, and missed calls from people I didn't know.

The blocked numbers were still blocked. Not that it mattered—her block had never once been lifted. Judging by the unfamiliar numbers, that woman must've been borrowing other people's phones this whole time.

I couldn't fathom why they were looking for me—people whose names I'd long since deleted from my contacts, and yet whose numbers I remembered with perfect clarity.

It's not like they're my real family anyway.

...Maybe that was why that game suddenly resurfaced in my mind with startling clarity. When I'd mined it for a few hints and checked into the protagonist's background, a strange feeling had come over me.

"Tomorrow... I didn't really have anything scheduled, did I."

Pop.

I cracked open the energy tonic the customer had given me. This would keep me going a few more hours, at least.

Before I knew it, I'd stopped paying attention to the buzzing phone, booted up the computer, and was playing that game all over again.

A simple menu appeared, and I pressed Continue to pick up where I'd left off.

The episode I'd abandoned yesterday came up. Looking at the choices, I could vaguely guess which was the right one—but unlike before, when that strange feeling had come over me, all I felt now was a heavy, suffocating frustration.

"There it is again. This is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the kind of thing that always shows up. I don't get it."

If it were me, I'd have just left it alone and moved on, no matter what it was.

"...Ugh. Fine. No other way to clear it. Just can't die here—what else can I do?"

I made my choice, it was confirmed as the correct one, and I didn't die.

The game flashed the words Episode Cleared and seemed about to move on to the next.

But right at that moment.

The monitor screen began to blur, little by little.

I definitely drank that energy tonic. Why am I so sleepy...?

Maybe it was just exhaustion catching up. Sleep crashed over me like a flood.

Knock, knock.

Mmh...?

Knocking? Must be another apartment. No way that sound was coming from my door. Nobody had any reason to come looking for me—none they'd admit to, anyway.

So I assumed it was someone else's problem and didn't react.

Knock, knock.

But the knocking came again. At this point, it had to be for me.

"Ugh, seriously... What now? It's not rent day..."

Irritation brimming over, I dragged myself up, scratching at my bedhead.

And only then did I understand why the knock sounded wrong.

Huh?

I froze. Because this wasn't my cramped one-room—it was a vast, sprawling chamber. Because beneath me was the softness of a plush bed, not a stiff mat. And because everything around me was something else entirely—alien, unfamiliar.

What is this place? Am I dreaming or something?

I rubbed my eyes again and again, mouth hanging open like an idiot, and only once I'd confirmed my eyes weren't deceiving me did a woman's voice drift in from outside.

"Lord Karsein. It would be troublesome if you were any later."

The moment I heard it, a chill shot down my spine.

"What? Karsein?"

That was the name of the character in my game, wasn't it?

That Karsein—the walking sunfish who'd died over and over and over again—was... me?

The mirror in front of me showed, faintly but unmistakably, the face of that pixelated Karsein brought to life in flesh and blood.

On my face.