The Flame Dies Out
A withered old man, deep in his research, lifted his head.
His face was hidden beneath his robe, but it was clear where his gaze had turned.
A tiny flame flickered on the table before him. Or rather, what was left of it now—a dying ember.
"It's... gone... out?"
His voice, unused for so long, came out hoarse and ragged, torn at the edges, barely intelligible.
Yet he spoke in deliberate, staccato syllables, one word at a time, making it just understandable. His tone was rough, but his eyes gleamed with icy sharpness.
His first creation, poured with such care, had perished.
Something—or someone—had come.
A intriguing new toy, perhaps.
Curiosity surged within him.
"Heh... heh."
The robed old man rose to his feet.
Laughter bubbled uncontrollably from him as he exited the laboratory. He glanced once at his masterpiece guarding the entrance, then pressed onward.
Fly.
His body lifted effortlessly into the air.
He shot forward at blinding speed.
Whoosh.
Soon, he reached the chamber that had symbolized the flame's presence—the domain of Iges—and pushed open the door.
*
Thirty minutes in, as eight chimeras were reverse-summoned one by one, despair set in.
When the Armor Knights shattered and the Armor Archers and Mages were crushed, hopelessness followed.
Yet he refused to yield, holding the line alone, pouring damage into the foe for as long as he could.
He pushed past his limits time and again, but when his body finally swayed and toppled sideways—
Thud.
Iges collapsed backward as well.
You have defeated the mid-boss monster Iges.
He had felled the beast.
"Ha... haha..."
His remaining HP hovered around 150.
Beyond the physical toll, he'd exhausted every ounce of mental strength; he couldn't even twitch a finger. Not a shred of energy remained.
"Hoo..."
He lay there motionless, letting time pass.
Exhausted as he was, the smile tugging at his lips wouldn't fade.
Achievement Points: 20.
He'd earned points just for sighting the creature, and now another 20 for slaying it. An extravagant haul for a single battle.
"Worth all the effort."
As he savored the triumph—
Creeeak.
The iron door ahead swung open.
His eyes met those of a figure cloaked deeply in a robe.
You have discovered the black mage minion of evil, Zikera.
The black mage.
Exactly as Mu-hyuk remembered him etched in his mind.
"You... kill... it?"
The grating voice was unwelcome.
Hah, the rewards are nice, but...
Death seemed inevitable.
"You... kill... Iges?"
Probably referring to Iges.
Mu-hyuk nodded.
"Yeah. I did."
Zikera twisted into a grotesque smile and extended his hand. A powerful suction yanked Mu-hyuk forward. He struggled, but escape was impossible. In that brief instant, a torrent of thoughts raced through his mind.
Do I have to die?
Or get captured?
What if capture forces a base relocation?
It happens sometimes.
Enemy camps hacking the respawn to drop you right in their midst.
Ominous dread swelled.
No good.
The moment Zikera's hand closed around him, something terrible would follow. Mu-hyuk slashed his own throat with his sword.
HP has reached 0.
You have died.
With almost no HP left, one strike sufficed for suicide.
"Tch."
Zikera clicked his tongue at Mu-hyuk's corpse.
To think he'd take his own life.
A pity.
The first human in ages, and a strong one at that—perfect for experiments. The regret deepened.
He shook his head, brushing it off, and retraced his steps.
Fly.
The world would soon be his anyway.
*
Mu-hyuk emerged from the capsule and checked Illusion TV first.
"Whoa."
Viewers: 42,117.
Dropping fast, of course.
Mu-hyuk had died, after all.
Shut it down?
He pondered, then shook his head.
They'd trickle out soon enough.
Killing the stream now might annoy the diehards. To let them leave on their own, he'd keep the 24-hour broadcast running.
Shower first.
The Illusion battle had been brutal.
He felt fine now, but the grime lingered mentally.
A thorough wash would fix that.
Shhh.
He toweled off and flopped onto the bed.
Staring blankly at the ceiling...
Snore.
Mu-hyuk drifted into deep sleep.
The next morning.
His eyes snapped open.
"Ngh."
He sat up, stretching. Glancing at the wall clock—
"Whoa..."
Nine hours of sleep.
Hoo, feeling refreshed.
Energy surged, but no Illusion meant a vague gloom.
Gym time?
His eyes caught the unpacked boxes everywhere.
Pack after.
Gym workout, then half-bath soak to unwind.
Back home, he started packing.
A few boxes filled quickly, but plenty remained. He stuffed the lighter, smaller items into empties.
Rediscovering forgotten things along the way.
"Oh, this was here."
Memories tugged at him.
A faint smile formed.
Impossible to find when searching.
Those went into boxes too.
After hours of packing, Mu-hyuk sat at his laptop for a break.
The black screen persisted, yet nearly 19,000 viewers lingered.
"Why, though?"
Why stick around?
No clue.
He checked the chat.
More active than expected.
Posts flew nonstop. Watching, Mu-hyuk wondered.
Coupons too?
He moused to the coupon tab.
"..."
He rubbed his eyes.
Way more than imagined.
Over 3,800?
At 85 won each, cash value?
Mu-hyuk grabbed his phone calculator.
3,877 × 85 = 329,545 won.
A hefty sum.
Early days, yet this much? Odd.
Speaking of, my ranking?
Recommendation: Rookie rank 2.
Coupons: Rookie rank 4.
Peak daily viewers: Rookie rank 1.
Overall rankings plummeted, but for a day or two? Impressive.
Hm, high up.
Never dreamed of this popularity, but no plans to change his style. Game focus only.
Viewers will come.
Income felt good, though.
What to do with it?
Monthly guaranteed 7.5 million won.
Plus viewer coupons.
Hm, for...
Nothing specific came to mind.
Illusion stock, then.
No issue if cash needed later—sell shares. Illusion stock flew off shelves on upticks.
Phone brokerage app open.
Front page: Illusion stock.
Clicked, placed buys.
You have purchased Illusion stock (1 share).
You have purchased Illusion stock (2 shares).
You have purchased Illusion stock (1 share).
[...]
Target hit instantly.
6.49 million per share.
With priors, total 176 shares.
Balance: 5.9 million won.
Plenty for living.
Stock bought.
Mu-hyuk zoned out, then resumed packing.
Finish today.
Nearly done, he called a moving center.
"Not today?"
No slots.
"Got it."
Next place.
"Day after tomorrow? Fine."
Hoo, hassle.
Fifth call: Immediate availability.
"Yes, packing move, now. Dishes and clothes half-packed. Bed, desk, chair. One-ton truck? Yes."
30 minutes out.
Next, Mother.
"Mom, packing up today."
(Perfect. What time?)
"Hour-ish?"
(Soon. Got it.)
Hung up, lay on bed waiting.
Ding-dong.
Exactly an hour later.
"Who is it?"
(Moving center.)
"Ah, yes."
Opened to three middle-aged men.
"Check first."
"Sure."
"Washer and fridge too?"
"Selling to scrap next door."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
"Got it. Pack the rest."
"Okay."
Mu-hyuk called the junk shop.
"Used fridge and washer. Coming now? Fine."
Nearby—man arrived in under five.
50k for washer, 70k fridge. Mu-hyuk nodded.
"Deal."
"Thanks."
Handed 120k; man hauled them away.
Packing nearly done meanwhile.
"All set. Where to?"
"Address..."
Recited parents' home; meet out front.
Bag of essentials slung over shoulder, Mu-hyuk headed to parking, started car, drove off.
Same route—moving truck visible often. Mu-hyuk arrived first, slightly faster.
"Son, here?"
"Yeah, stuff soon."
"Good, good."
Truck pulled up shortly.
"Where?"
"Follow me."
Pros—unloaded in a flash.
"Done. Cost..."
"Here."
"Thanks."
Paid, unpacked and sorted fully.
"Son, eaten?"
"Not yet."
"I'll whip something up. Eat then sort."
"Sure."
Home perks: Mom cooking.
Won't be bored.
As expected.
Kang Ji-yeon arrived soon, bickering instantly.
"Anyway, good you're back!"
Smack across the back.
Whap.
Pain furrowed Mu-hyuk's brow.
"Ow, seriously. Sis!"
"What?"
"Hurts!"
"Hit back then."
Kang Ji-yeon leaned forward.
"Ugh, gonna smack you."
"Oh? Man hitting a woman?"
"Hah."
Thirties acting like kids.
Mu-hyuk shook his head.
"Anyway, party with me in Illusion later."
"No."
"Why!"
"You got hit."
"Hehe, sorry."
"Scram."
"Shoulder rub?"
"Hm..."
Changes were real. Fights once pure annoyance now held a sliver—a tiny sliver—of affection.
No big diff, though.
Evening, Father home from work.
"Settled in fine?"
Family dinner together after ages. Post-meal, fruits in living room, chatting, TV laughs.
Not bad.
No—good.
Illusion barely crossed his mind.