Siege of the Ancient Kingdom Territory (2)

……

"Ugh…… I'm dying."

The moment I sank onto ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bed, every muscle in my body screamed. My back, my lower back, my shoulders — all of them were in open revolt. Too many hours locked in the same posture had left me stiff and knotted all over. I stretched my arms and legs out long, and a strange, almost pleasant sensation rolled up through me.

"Nn…… oof, mmm."

In the days leading up to the siege, I had spent every hour fighting like my life depended on it. FundoshiManiac had dogged my heels with relentless persistence. Immaemangryang ran deception tactics with users dressed in identical costumes, and skirmishes with the other guilds' troublemakers had become a daily routine. Dongmicham had even switched factions just to put himself on the hostile side against me. He was almost certainly still nursing a grudge over the Eye of the Magic Dragon incident. I didn't know the full story of what was going on in his head, but something about him set my teeth on edge. The way he looked at me carried a weird, sticky kind of revulsion — or maybe it was more like a fierce, hungry wanting. Even the way his eyes fixed on my thighs felt perverted.

"Ugh, khh. To… to lose like this. Humiliating."

"Weird. Feels like I'm being played somehow……."

"I will. Have. My revengeaaaa."

The fact that he refused to quit even after I'd killed him several times suggested the grudge ran deep. And yet — oddly — he seemed weaker than before. Or was that just my imagination? Either way, he wasn't a difficult enemy to put down. Thanks to that, Dongmicham had been collecting four-hour login bans every time he wandered into my line of sight.

Those were the ones who stood out, but plenty of others threw themselves at me just for the chance to kill me once. Side effect of a name that had gotten too big, I supposed. They seemed to think that posting a victory screenshot over my corpse would earn them a certain kind of prestige. It wasn't an entirely wrong idea — but I wasn't about to die that easily for anyone. Of everyone who had come looking so far, not a single one had gotten their wish. Plenty of them had ended up as corpses, though.

I curled up on the bed and scrolled through my phone. It wasn't quite the flood that came right after a stream, but plenty of people were still talking about me. I'd gotten used to taking it in. Checking the communities whenever I had a free moment had basically become part of my daily routine. There was nobody around to see, and yet the corners of my mouth kept lifting on their own — so I covered them lightly with my hand.

A sudden impulse rose up. For the first time in a while, I hit the create-post button myself.

Wow. The speed of the replies was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unreal. Every time I refreshed, a few more comments piled on. Roughly half were sexual harassment. About ten percent were insults. Twenty percent were questions. The rest was meaningless spam.

A photo, though. Did these people really want to see a picture of me that badly? It was a curious thing. The world was full of beautiful celebrities. Dive into the darker corners of the internet and you could look at naked women to your heart's content. And yet this many people were pouring their attention onto me alone. The fact that I didn't entirely hate that — I was grateful that, at least in my own home, I didn't have to manage my expression.

"Mmm, hnn……."

Fine. If they wanted it that badly, one photo wouldn't kill me. The interest had woken me up; the drowsiness had mostly burned off. Energy was starting to move through my body again. I braced myself on my crutches, stood up, and flipped on the light.

Brushing my hair or changing clothes felt like too much effort, so I just turned on the camera and took a rough shot with my face in frame. Checking the result, I realized this was the first photo I'd ever taken with my phone. Ah. That was right. After the accident, I hadn't taken a single picture. Until now, there hadn't been a single memory I'd wanted to keep.

So does that mean it's okay now? I don't really know.

Not even the usual food photos — looking at that empty gallery left me feeling hollow. The shot I'd just taken was too slapdash, so I decided to try a few more carefully. Shifting the angle around seemed to help a little. No matter how I framed it, I never came out looking ugly. But there was something oddly intense about the images. Maybe it was because I'd taken them on the bed — I couldn't shake a faintly suggestive quality. If I posted something like this, the unnies would probably scold me later.

I hugged a pillow against myself for cover and clicked the shutter. Imagining people's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reactions made me grin, and before I knew it I'd pressed the button a few more times, half in a trance.

"Pff……. Idiots. Like I'd actually post one."

My hair was a complete mess right now. I'd switched to a light, airy nightgown for summer, and depending on the light and the angle, bare skin might show through. So putting anything like that on the internet would be a little embarrassing. You had to keep some things hidden if you wanted people to keep looking next time. I wasn't so stupid that I'd hand over everything just because they asked.

But a voice message should be fine, right?

Photos and videos were one thing, but I'd already put my voice out there plenty of times. Besides, the stream with Unnie had ended in a kind of awkward scramble. Leaving a thank-you message while I was at it seemed like a good idea. I turned on the recording function and slowly let my voice out. Even to my own ears, the tone that came through was thick with drowsiness. I needed to finish the recording before my mind got any foggier.