The Constellation's Game, Laika

I was furious.

KWAANG—!

That goddamn system, son of a…….

Deception tactics refined to a degree that could make even a worn-out veteran like me feel a flicker of excitement for a moment… I had to hand it to them.

FWOOSH—!

Anyway, ever since I'd learned the secret (?) of Level 105, I'd been grinding away in a fit of rage for about three hours.

Never mind the bullshit mechanics that kept growing more difficult by the minute…….

Things had started back in the level 60s, so for a good while the fights themselves hadn't been much of a challenge.

Honestly, until you hit the same level as the boss, you're not allowed to complain, right?

If I wanted to salvage even a single SP, it looked like I'd need to take down Drakos all the way into the level 120s at minimum.

I'd been playing it up for the cameras a bit, sure.

But the truth was, the Constellations had a point.

With all the Drako carnage I'd been unleashing, I'd managed to farm out a decent pile of Tier 2 and Tier 3 equipment…….

That's why, even though my field level had climbed by nearly 30, the hunting never actually got any harder.

It's just common sense — if you've been hauling around nothing but a battered wooden staff and suddenly strap on even a single piece of Tier 2 gear, your combat power is bound to change.

On top of that, this Drako Bone Staff I was carrying was a Tier 4 Unique-grade staff.

More powerful than even the Moonlight Sword I'd been using… a truly precious article, this one.

FWOOM—!

So with the farming going this well, you'd think getting baited by the quest wouldn't be such a raw deal, right?

"Whew."

That was exactly where the biggest problem lay.

Quite the opposite — the better my gear drops got, the deeper the injustice burrowed into my bones.

And how could that be, you ask?

Every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single item farmed in this place vanishes the moment the quest ends.

Even odds and ends like Dragon Scales went for at least 200 LP a pop…….

Converted to cash, the gear I'd farmed over three hours was worth close to 1,000 LP…….

And knowing it would all evaporate like a mirage made my heart ache — and then sting on top of that.

QUIET! QUIET, I SAY!

Look, unfair is unfair.

You can throw all the facts at me you want — the fact remains that I just worked three hours of unpaid labor.

*sniff*

And if that isn't the single most outrageous thing a cash-farming hunter can endure, I don't know what is.

Hoooooow…….

The Constellations' relentless barrage of fact-based attacks was making my heart hurt even more.

But a mere mental assault of this caliber wasn't going to land any meaningful blow — the rotten years I'd rotting away on the beta server were simply too long.

DRING—!

And so, having furiously ground my way to the target number I'd stubbornly set for myself, I decided it was time to start preparing to clock out.

Thinking about it, I'd already been pushing myself awfully hard for a Friday.

-So, hyung-nim, first milestone: cleanly achieved.

And my dear Constellations were a remarkably sharp bunch.

But quitting time is quitting time. What can you do?

This is absolutely, positively not me fleeing the quest because it left a dent in me.

-Anyway, we've hit 30%, so…… let's call it a day here!

-It's quitting time, isn't it.

-And besides… I worked myself to the bone today, didn't I?

-Agreed?

The Constellations who used to throw full-blown seizures every time I clocked out — until just two days ago — had, it seemed, finally adapted, settling into grudging acceptance.

Which is to say, the backlash wasn't nearly as violent as before.

So if things had wrapped up there, today would've ended on a perfectly heartwarming note, I'm sure.

The problem, however…… was that I couldn't exactly respond right away to the Constellations' "see you tomorrow."

Why, you ask?

"……"

Because today was Friday.

And the Republic of Korea in the year 2035…… runs on a five-day workweek.

-By the way, hyung-nim. Tomorrow's… the weekend. You're all aware of that, right?

The truth is, I'd made up my mind — with great resolve — to declare a weekend off to the Constellations.

Living the regular hunter life had taught me a thing or two, you see.

Rest when it's time to rest, and Laika treats you all the better for it.

Plus, I had plans this weekend…….

-The place I live, the Republic of Korea, operates on a weekly time system, you see, hyung-nim.

-Korean labor law champions the five-day workweek, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right? So for someone like me, who lives without even needing the law…….

So yes, the Constellations were in an uproar — but honestly, it was a reaction I'd fully anticipated.

-Therefore! I'll take the weekend to recharge and be back!

But if I'm being a little more honest…….

The bigger factor was that Madam Kim Joo-yeon's nagging scared me just a bit more than my own exhaustion did.

Look, personally? I'd hustle every extra hour if it meant one more coin in my pocket.

But if I got caught entering a gate while working through the weekend…….

It would probably only be a matter of time before this beautiful meal ticket got cut off.

Which is to say: you do not slice open the goose that lays the golden eggs. Not now. Not ever.

Was it just me, or did that system message feel strangely familiar just now…….

I threw myself into one last performance of looking the other way.

DRING—!

Still — over 500 viewers at the moment the broadcast ended?

KYA—!

Maybe next week I could even take a crack at four digits?

Lee Jung-min, thirty-six this year, was an ordinary office worker.

To put it a little more precisely… you might say he was living the life of a moderately successful salaryman.

His workplace was the variety department of HBC, one of the three major broadcasting networks at present…….

And his title there was PD.

In other words, Jung-min had always considered his life to have turned out reasonably well.

After the Gate Incident, none of his family had been caught up in any accidents.

And by sheer luck, he'd landed a decent job, at that.

"I've got somewhere to be, so I'll head out for a bit, Mom."

"Off to see your girlfriend?"

"Ah… yeah, sure. Something like that. Anyway, back later!"

Which is exactly why, every time Jung-min thought of 'Lee Gun-yul' — the friend he'd been closest with since his school days — his chest had always ached a little.

Because on that very day ten years ago, when the Gate Incident had erupted, Gun-yul had been the first among his closest circle to get swept up in it.

Granted, he hadn't suffered like Gun-yul's family had, but for a while afterward, the guilt had weighed on him heavily.

So Jung-min hadn't believed it.

The news that the guy had come back alive and whole.

'I actually get to see Gun-yul again. What's it been — ten years?'

That was why, even as he headed out to the meeting spot, Jung-min was in such a good mood he was humming to himself.

Excited at the thought of catching up with his childhood best friend after all these years — that would be the right way to describe it.

Damned if I knew why, but the guy apparently had to be home before eight, so I figured I'd spend the evening spoiling my adorable little nephew instead.

With that thought, Jung-min pushed open the café door and stepped inside.

DING—!

Walking into the café, his gaze naturally drifted toward the corner.

This had been their go-to meeting spot back then too — ten years ago — and their seats had always been fixed.

"…!"

The moment he spotted that familiar silhouette slouched in the seat, glued to a smartphone, Jung-min found himself shouting out loud before he could stop himself.

"HEY, YOU SON OF A— BROTHER!"

Thankfully, the café was empty.

I'd never been the type ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to have many friends.

And no, that wasn't a product of coming back after ten years.

Then or now, my friends had numbered exactly three.

And this particular guy — gifted with a talent for making you want to crawl into a hole the second your eyes met — was one of those three.

"HEY, YOU SON OF A— BROTHER!"

How had this bastard not changed one bit in ten years?

Not that it was a bad thing.

It was just… strange, and honestly a relief, that he hadn't.

We're… thirty-six now, right?

No wait.

Come to think of it, I'm only twenty-six…….

"CEO Jung. Still alive, I see."

"Alive and kicking. I'm not you, am I? Thought maybe you'd gotten sucked into a gate or something."

"But I did survive, didn't I?"

"You did. Then that's that. Drinks. Now."

We traded nonsense over a quick bro-hug, snickered for a moment, and finally took our seats.

Two iced americanos were already waiting on the table, and the guy picked his up and started sucking away at it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For the record, it was winter right now.

That hadn't changed from ten years ago either.

"Well, I already heard the whole 'got dragged off to another world and came back' story, so we can skip that part."

"You just believe that as-is?"

"Gates are open, man. An otherworld's hardly a stretch. Wouldn't it be weirder if it didn't exist?"

"…Fair."

And so the two of us really could sit there and trade small talk without a trace of awkwardness.

Ten years ago, I'd never realized it — but having a friend you could just shoot the breeze with like this turned out to be an enormous blessing.

"Anyway. Let's hear it, CEO Jung. Your story."

"Mine?"

"Yeah. Heard you're some kind of PD at a broadcasting station."

"Who told you that?"

"Who do you think? Dongsu. Gyeongjun still hasn't come out of a gate yet, remember."

"Ah, right — Dongsu couldn't make it today, could he?"

"Work's got him out in the provinces. He said let's meet up next month or so."

And then, out of nowhere, a thought came to me.

If days like this — ordinary, unremarkable days — could just keep going.

If the four of us could get together again soon and joke around like we used to.

If we could age like normal people and die of old age… comfortably, say, around a hundred.

'Is there really any life happier than that?'