Revelations at the Unmanned Cafe
“Oh, you made it?”
A quiet unmanned cafe a short distance from home. As soon as Hanbit arrived, Lee Minho greeted him warmly.
“You got here quick.”
“It's not far from the office. But man, this place is dead quiet, huh?”
He glanced around as he spoke. The layout was like a room divided by partitions, and at this hour, there wasn't a soul in sight. It was a spot he'd picked out with Luna in mind, since her face was so well-known.
Hanbit ordered a drink and took a seat.
“Your mood looks a lot better.”
“Yeah? Must be the resignation high.”
Lee Minho scratched his cheek, looking a bit sheepish. No wonder—escaping from under that department head had to drop his stress levels big time.
“But how'd you get out early? You're a full-time employee, unlike me.”
“Your story stuck with me, so I went straight to the executive director. Waited forever by the elevator—my hands were shaking.”
Hanbit had shared the whole resignation saga with Lee Minho. Sounded like he'd wrestled with it but mustered the courage in the end.
“Good call. Lucky that guy was around.”
“Right?”
The two chatted in agreement, the conversation gradually shifting to the main topic.
“So, you're working on RP gear development now? How'd you end up at that startup?”
“I was prepping for a job switch and hit up this government seminar. A dev from a company called Core was the speaker. I started firing off questions and caught his eye. Next thing, he offers me a spot at his new firm.”
Lee Minho added that it was half luck, but his expression screamed satisfaction. Hanbit had seen it before when he'd torn into that gear at his place—the guy had insane passion for stuff that hooked him.
“The research we're doing at the company right now? It's all about the true nature of RP.”
“The true nature?”
Hanbit echoed the intriguing word, and Lee Minho nodded. He started reaching into his bag for some documents.
That's when it happened.
“Should I give you some space?”
A familiar voice from the invisible table next door. Footsteps followed, and Luna appeared.
“...Luna?”
Her being here was weird. They still had over an hour till her appointment.
“Why're you here so early?”
“Couldn't sleep, so I wandered around the neighborhood and ended up here. Guess I passed out face-down on the table.”
Luna covered her mouth with a small yawn. Looked like she'd been grinding the Ifrit episode since dawn.
“If you're talking something important, I'll step out for a walk. Place is so quiet, I can hear everything crystal clear.”
Unmanned cafe, no other customers—sound carried way too well. She'd caught Hanbit's—Black Dragon's—voice in her doze and felt bad eavesdropping, especially since it sounded serious.
“Why don't you just join us?”
Hanbit asked her right away.
“You cool with that?”
“Nothing to hide. What about you, hyung?”
“Wait... is that really Luna? The Yeonhwa chairman's youngest daughter?”
Lee Minho leaned in, whispering. She was famous even outside RP circles, not just among players.
“Hi. Yeonhwa chairman's youngest daughter here—mind if I sit?”
She'd overheard, reacting with practiced ease. Lee Minho shot up from his seat, flustered.
“Oh, yeah, please, have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
She slid into the chair next to Hanbit, her eyes flicking to the documents on the table.
“So I did hear that right.”
Technical jargon everywhere, but the RP gear theme jumped out. Critical stuff for a pioneer like her.
“Anyway, what was that about RP's true nature?”
Hanbit picked up where they'd left off. Lee Minho pulled a pen from his bag and started underlining the docs as he explained.
“The Record Project game drops, and suddenly gears are everywhere. We know they interface directly with the brain—perfectly tuning insanely complex neural networks. No modern tech could pull that off.”
Global studies on gears, analyzing players' brains during sessions. Still ongoing, but only scratching the surface of what the devs had revealed.
“Looking at all these studies got me wondering: did humans really make this? It's so beyond us, you'd almost buy 'gods did it' more than anything.”
“......”
Hanbit went speechless for a beat. “God” metaphors were common, but for RP? Coming from someone who'd faced the Goddess, he couldn't argue.
“Fascinating.”
Luna perked up, intrigued. Scanning the jargon-heavy pages, she tossed out a question.
“So, is adaptation rate like being 'chosen by the gods' too? Measures how well your body and mind sync with RP, right?”
“Spot on. It's cross-referencing all the brain activity triggers. Probably close to innate talent.”
Hanbit knew the concept too—from the executive director.
“Here's the data breakdown.”
Lee Minho pulled out a chart. Black Dragon's name was on it.
“Small sample size, so take it light. Average adaptation: regular players at 200, pioneers at 5,000. But check this—Black Dragon's at a ridiculous 300,000.”
“......”
Matched what the exec had said. Hanbit could guess it tied to his regressions.
“Makes sense watching Black Dragon play. Unrelated to character specs anyway.”
Luna took it in stride, unsurprised. Public saw him as the one who'd read the original novel. They fixated there, but she sensed something deeper. Not just innate—something was missing from the explanation.
“Take a look at these too.”
Lee Minho slid out a few screenshots that looked like in-game shots. A young boy and girl, faces alike—siblings, probably.
“Isn't this Black Dragon's tech?”
Luna pointed at the girl while examining them. Hanbit had clocked it already.
“Yeah.”
One photo made Hanbit's eyes widen a bit. The girl wielding an oversized sword unsuited to her frame. A sharp wind blade trailed her swing.
What's this now?
The boy was caressing glowing light. Partially obscured by a tree, but definitely spirits.
“Who are they?”
“One of our staff snapped 'em in the Ifrit outskirts forest. Middle schoolers—Haneul and Noeul, I think?”
“Middle school?”
He'd assumed kid characters, but actual child players. Staring at the pics, Lee Minho spoke up again.
“Heard they made accounts at launch but just started recently. First game ever. Don't know details, but twins picking up skills like that? Gotta be some genetic factor.”
“...Yeah.”
Age aside, both twins touching spirits wasn't normal. Was it like the isekai—real bodies dictating potential?
“You got contact with these players?”
“Nah, they just parted ways. Told the staff to track 'em if possible, but who knows.”
Lee Minho looked regretful, like a missed opportunity. He was starting to look every bit the researcher.
Best to scout the twins in-game anyway.
“If it's really beyond human hands, doesn't that make research pointless?”
Hanbit voiced simple concern—he couldn't reveal the Goddess's truth.
Lee Minho grinned. “If it's beyond humans, that's why it's worth digging into. They say mental strength matters too. Might crack the innate talent myth. We haven't even cracked the chip inside the gear yet.”
The tiny chip in the gear with “Edlen” etched on it. Probably linked to the hidden zones, but unconfirmed.
“Mental strength reminds me—Luna, how'd the mask feel yesterday?”
“The mask?”
“Yeah. Supposed to make body control impossible.”
Hanbit aired the nagging question. Luna paused, recalling, then gave a subtle frown.
“I get what you mean by 'discomfort.' Felt like something huge in my head trying to puppeteer me. Like a giant grabbing my limbs.”
“...But you overcame it?”
“Can't explain how, but yeah, I shook it off. Mental strength fits.”
Her casual delivery was light-years from common sense. Hanbit's isekai mask experience felt just like that giant grip. Shaking it entirely? Pure fantasy.
“Since it's brain-based, mental fortitude could factor in. Might even exploit gaps in the game system.”
Lee Minho nodded, jotting notes.
After some back-and-forth, Hanbit pulled up a photo on his smartphone.
“Hyung, check this out. Slate from after yesterday's boss kill. Looks like programming language, right?”
“Hold on.”
Lee Minho zoomed in on the text and symbols. Dense, scratched up—tough read.
“Some mixed in, but yeah, programming. Gotta align the code and run it? This'll take time.”
“I'll send the pic—take your time.”
“Got it. I'll hit you up if anything pops.”
They wrapped up a bit more chat, and Lee Minho headed out.
“Black Dragon's rep not coming?”
“He's actually overseas this time. Just need the results.”
Juyeonu had left for the rescheduled Japan trip. Back tomorrow—nail the deal, done.
They waited with small talk. Then the Yeonhwa Gaming CEO showed.
“Hey, Lee Seol-ah! If you're leaving early, at least tell me...!”
The young woman, mid-rant, locked eyes with Hanbit. She cleared her throat, smoothed her hair, and approached slowly, handing over a business card.
“Nice to meet you, Black Dragon. I'm Lee Hansol, CEO of Yeonhwa Gaming.”
“Likewise. Have a seat first.”
“Thank you.”
Hanbit gestured after taking the card, and Lee Hansol gave a light bow before sitting. Luna, still next to Hanbit, tapped the table.
“You're busy, so how about just pay up and go?”
“If you're busy, leave. You're just in the way.”
Lee Hansol waved her off at her sister's jab.
“No thanks?”
Luna chuckled lazily, stretching. Lee Hansol sighed, turning away.
“Sorry about my sister acting like that.”
“No worries. Luna's helped me out a ton. And we've put your sponsorships to good use—grateful.”
“You're too kind.”
Her soft reply hung, then she bowed her head.
“First off, apologies for the scouting mess. One of our staff jumped the gun and caused offense.”
“It's fine. Lashten's screw-up, not Yeonhwa Gaming. No hard feelings.”
“...Thank you for saying that.”
Lee Hansol looked up slowly, genuinely sorry. Hanbit truly didn't care, though.
“Since you've given us this meeting, I should repay with a deal you'll like.”
Composing herself, she pulled out her tablet. A chart of item lists filled the screen.
“These are items we're selling on the exchange. Gathered by our six pioneers, including Luna, and their players. Color-coded by acquisition difficulty.”
“...That's a ton.”
Hanbit scanned it, impressed inwardly. Massive variety. Whirlwind Tower entry mats caught his eye.
“Trading these for RP intel?”
“We could do cash, but items seem more your speed. Taxes hurt either way.”
“Ah.”
Hanbit nodded instinctively. Lee Hansol smiled.
“Shall we proceed in order, then?”