Administration Begins

A vivid blue window floated before my eyes.

Administrator? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I quietly opened my status window.

…Yeah. It was exactly the kind of Administrator I was thinking of.

Project Moon.

A company famous for its brutal worldbuilding and magnetic cast of characters. I was a hardcore fan of their games myself. The moment Limbus Company’s story dropped, I burned through every chapter. Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina—I’d played those into the ground too.

And now I could use that power?

“…No matter how you look at it, this is broken as hell.”

The Project Moon universe was crawling with absolute monsters. Things that carved buildings apart like tofu. Things that swung swords capable of erasing concepts themselves. And I could pull power from a world full of those freaks?

This was a completely insane ability. No question.

“Identity Swap… that should be more or less what I already know…”

“Enkephalin Production? What’s that supposed to be?”

Identities I understood perfectly—they were the foundation of Limbus Company’s whole system. But Enkephalin Production left me completely blank.

Enkephalin, properly refined, could serve as an energy source or even various kinds of psychiatric medicine. The catch was its vicious addictiveness; misuse it and you’d be hooked before you knew it. And I could generate that stuff?

What, was I supposed to start a drug cartel or something…

“Identity Swap first.”

I tapped the words floating on the status window. The panel that appeared looked almost identical to Limbus Company’s Identity screen—except most of the Identities were locked, wrapped in chains and hidden from view.

“Figures… there’s no way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they’d just hand me something like Vergilius that easily…”

I selected one of the few Identities that wasn’t locked.

A W Corp. Cleanup Agent. Thanks to the peculiarities of the WARP trains, their cleanup crews carried a decent amount of combat power. Everything else available was either rats or Grade 9 Fixers, so this was the strongest rank I could currently choose.

“…Enkephalin cost?”

“Wait. Then that Enkephalin Production from earlier…?”

I hurriedly tapped the Enkephalin Production skill.

“Haa… you’ve got to be kidding me…”

So Identities cost Enkephalin to use, and the Enkephalin refilled over time. That made high-tier Identities like Vergilius a distant dream. The higher the grade, the steeper the Enkephalin cost would climb.

But this wasn’t the time to nitpick over that.

“Equip Identity.”

The instant the words left my mouth, the clothes I’d been wearing vanished and reformed into a W Corp. Cleanup Agent’s uniform. A pair of short daggers settled into my hands, and a cap stamped with the W Corp. logo settled onto my head.

Then the memories came flooding in.

This Identity’s memories. Its experience. All of it poured into my skull and filled every corner. Strangely, there was no resistance—no sense of rejection. The memories settled as naturally as if they’d always been mine.

And then I looked at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other message window that had appeared before my eyes.

Kim Namwoon, who’d been fighting Kim Dokja, was already sprawled on the floor with his head blown open. Beyond the subway car that had climbed out of the underground and was now running on the surface, the view was…

Hell, pure and simple.

Monsters that looked like they’d crawled up from the sea, fighter jets locked in combat with them. Burning city blocks. Screams bleeding through closed doors. And as if that nightmare outside meant nothing at all, a dokkaebi appeared once more in midair.

“Whoa. Holy crap.”

“What on earth happened?”

“I only stepped away to check the other cars for a second…”

The dokkaebi cast an intrigued look our way, then turned its attention elsewhere as more constellations seemed to flood into its channel. Outside, Han Myungoh was panicking at the sight of the sea serpent—the Sea Serpent—while Lee Hyunsung stared at the creature in open fascination. Kim Dokja was doing something of her own. And I was watching all of it.

Strangely, even looking at that carnage, I felt neither nausea nor fear. Probably the Identity’s influence. And once equipped, an Identity seemed to stay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠active until I deliberately dismissed it. Still, keeping one on too long didn’t look wise. There was always the chance of being swallowed by it.

While I was lost in thought, Han Myungoh addressed the dokkaebi in a voice that still clung to a scrap of hope.

“Th-then you’re letting us go now, right? We already met the conditions you wanted!”

“Hmm~? Let you go?”

“Did you not get a proper look outside? You really want me to send you out there?”

Han Myungoh glanced at the roaring sea serpent beyond the windows and promptly went mute, like a man who’d swallowed glue.

“Anyway, I’m impressed.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect much from this car, but you somehow cleared the first scenario.”

“You’ve proven that even insects have the right to survive.”

Listen to this bastard talk. The second I could legally put hands on him, I was going to wreck him properly. I swore it.

“Well, well—hardship deserves a reward, doesn’t it?”

“As compensation for the first scenario, you’ve now earned the right to receive sponsorship from the ‘Constellations.’ Exciting, right?”

So it was finally starting.

“Huh. You’re all looking pretty lukewarm. This is genuinely a big deal, you know.”

“Though that one over there… was he always like that?”

The dokkaebi tilted its head, briefly thrown by the way my appearance had changed under the Identity, then picked the explanation back up.

“Anyway, I’ll keep it simple.”

“Right now, all of you are weak. Pathetically, hopelessly weak.”

“If I dropped you into the next scenario as you are, forget a ‘Croc’—even a scrawny little ‘Ground Rat’ would kill you.”

“Fortunately, this universe has great beings who look upon wretches like you with pity and wish to offer their sponsorship.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I… I’m sorry, what does that mean exactly? Who’s sponsoring whom…?”

At Lee Hyunsung’s question, the dokkaebi’s face twisted with open irritation.

“Ugh, denser than a brick wall.”

“Fine. Better to experience it once than hear it a hundred times.”

The moment the dokkaebi finished speaking, a blue window bloomed in front of my eyes. And on the list that appeared…

…What the hell was this?