Identities in Plain Sight
“Right?” (Wait, no—hyung, is this really how you’ve been doing it all this time?)
“I didn’t write it exactly as is. If I revealed everything, it’d be a loss for me.”
There were no lies in the post he’d agonized over and written. But explaining the experiences piled up over an insanely long time was no easy feat. It was tough to put abstract, vague stuff into words. There were clear limits. Especially the spirit section—it gave him a headache just writing it.
3. Spirits
Honestly, spirits are in the realm of talent. There’s no guarantee that effort will pay off. Still, the wind spirit Sylph is a playful one, so invest some time and get creative to catch its interest. Recommended spot: Edlen outskirts cliff. Methods listed below.
1) Play a flute while falling off the cliff (the weirder the tune, the better).
2) Dance or sing while falling off the cliff (both at once is good).
3) Collect unusual winds while falling off the cliff (use Calibo’s glass bottle).
4) Toss toys to Sylph (pinwheels, flags, paper airplanes, etc.)
……
-This is bullshit, seriously.
-Why keep falling off the cliff? ;
-Is this really about RP?
-Calibo’s bottle isn’t crazy expensive?
-That’s not interest, that’s just extreme aggro, right?
-Summary: Become a clown.
The listed methods weren’t easily accepted. It was natural to find them absurd. But surprisingly, from Hanbit’s experience, they were the easiest and most effective ways.
(Hmm……)
Juyeonu, who’d been reading on, let out a groan. A moment later, he spoke in a slightly anxious tone.
(I get it’s really tough, but isn’t it a bit dangerous? What if someone actually follows all of it?)
“Well, there might be a genius out there. It’s the realm of talent, after all.”
Combat and skills were heavily influenced by talent. Even in past worlds, he’d seen a few who shone extraordinarily in specific areas. None had matched Hanbit’s overwhelming experience, though. Especially in the game, titles stacked on top, creating an invisible wall.
Still, maybe… someone could pull it off a little.
Setting spirits aside, the swordsmanship guide wasn’t bad. If someone had even a spark of talent, they might climb this mountain.
“Pioneers are basically talented folks, right?”
(Pioneers, sure, but hidden masters pop up too. Most don’t care about the story, though.)
Hundreds of millions played RP. The ones visible in communities or streams were a tiny fraction. From experience, the unseen had limitless potential. Different goals, different talents—worth expecting something from them.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter if someone copies it. No, they should. It’ll boost my info’s credibility.”
(Yeah, true. If someone succeeds, the vibe’ll shift big time.)
What mattered to Hanbit was raising the info’s value. Trust was a key element. Info no one benefited from risked becoming worthless. Especially when personal ability played a role.
“…But is it really okay? If no one can follow it, that’s a problem too.”
Glancing back at the content, Hanbit suddenly worried. Teaching was damn hard, even from memory. Could he really bank on some rough gem appearing out of nowhere? Maybe he needed more hints. His mind was getting cluttered…
(Hyung, it’s been less than a day since you posted.)
Juyeonu’s voice snapped the thought loop. Still scanning the post, he continued.
(I get it’s salesmanship. So watch for a few weeks, then decide.)
“A few weeks?”
(You need to grasp the weight of hidden skills first. Everyone’ll be obsessed for a while—treat it like data collection.)
Juyeonu’s summary was spot-on. In business mode, his perspective sharpened.
(And starting today, you should stream yourself. A hidden skill star guesting on someone else’s channel doesn’t look right.)
“Me? Isn’t it too soon?”
(No different from the last three days. Honestly, viewers’ll love whatever you do.)
“Yeah?”
(For sure. Just do what you want—that’s enough. I’ll be there to help with whatever.)
Juyeonu added there was nothing to worry about. Maybe the sponsorship split still bugged him, but Hanbit figured adapting to streaming sooner was smart for the long haul.
“Got it. But viewers don’t know, right?”
(I’ll post a notice, so it’s fine. Oh, how to start streaming…)
Juyeonu rattled off the technical steps. Simple stuff—easy to grasp.
“Piece of cake. See you tonight.”
***
“…What’s this?”
After hanging up, Hanbit went straight to his mom. The smartphone screen between them showed a bank balance over 20 million won.
“Check this too.”
Hanbit played the saved stream recording. A clean way to clear up yesterday’s vague misunderstanding: show Mom the donations on-screen.
“……”
His mom watched in silence, her face a mix of emotions. That look came when she was shocked or baffled.
“They’re giving you this much money? People who don’t even know your face?”
“Same as selling stuff. They sponsor ’cause I share known info.”
“There’s more than that. Oh my, oh my—pulling out 100,000 won like loose change……”
She reacted to everything while watching, a blend of wonder and bewilderment. Reality’s grind felt worlds apart from this. Her gap had to feel bigger than his measly one- or two-day internship.
“Hoo.”
As playback ended, she sighed deeply. After a thoughtful pause, she looked away from the screen.
“So why show me this?”
“You were shocked at 3 million. Figured I’d explain how I earned it.”
“Besides that. You’ve got more to say, right?”
“……”
Called out, Hanbit shut his mouth. Scratching his head, he got to the point.
“Was gonna be on Juyeonu’s stream, but starting today, I’ll do my own.”
“Your own? You streaming? Solo?”
“Nah, Juyeonu’ll help from the side. But the account name, sponsorships, prize splits…”
Hanbit relayed what Juyeonu had told him. His mom asked worriedly.
“But is streaming okay? I heard the chat’s full of hate.”
“Real hate’s rare. Mostly gasps of awe.”
“Gasps of awe?”
A little spin, and she eyed him skeptically. Not total lies—interpretation differed.
“For real. You saw the big donations.”
“That’s true, but……”
No one wastes 100 won on someone they truly hate. She couldn’t deny that truth. Rewinding the clip, she shifted worries.
“What about your job? Streaming on top won’t tire you out?”
“Just a few hours after work. No big change.”
“Starting out’s hectic with learning. Do coworkers teach well? No bullying?”
Her last question caught him. Team lead and a few faces flashed, but he focused on Minho’s kindness.
“Everyone’s great. It’s experiential internship—just observe and learn.”
“Good. These days, company injustices are……”
Then, watching the recording, her face hardened. Instinct screamed crisis. Hanbit swallowed, tensing.
“You.”
She met his eyes, pointing at the screen’s ‘Black Dragon.’
“What’s with this face?”
“Face?”
“It’s exactly like yours in-game. You did it on purpose?”
“Ah.”
Forgotten fact—speechless. Blaming the Goddess would complicate things more.
“Mirror popped up first when creating the character. Made it similar. No one outside recognizes it. Armor and weapons change the vibe totally.”
“No one? Then what about me?”
“You’re Mom, so yeah. And look close—it’s a bit different.”
“Hmm……”
She squinted at Black Dragon. Hanbit stressed again.
“Seriously, no one will recognize it.”
***
“Isn’t this Hanbit-ssi?”
“……”
Cleaning the meeting room, Hanbit froze. Minho’s phone showed Black Dragon, eyes flicking between it and him—no words left.
Was planning to reveal it soon anyway.
Reason for helping Minho’s RP work was clear: uncover how his isekai became a game, the Goddess’s intent, hidden secrets, clues. Any trace was a win. Sharing data and ideas would expose Black Dragon eventually. If Minho suspected, better come clean.
“How’d you know?”
“Just the look and vibe. Didn’t know you were a streamer.”
“Oh, is side-gigging banned?”
“In principle, but you’re on a term contract—should be fine. Keep it secret, though. Team lead’ll make a fuss……”
Minho glanced at the team lead beyond the blinds, frowning irritably over something.
“Anyway, here.”
Hanbit handed over the USB from his pocket. Minho blinked in surprise.
“Done already?”
“Had a perfect data-measuring chance. Tell me if you need more.”
“Thanks. I’ve researched RP plenty, but with zero game talent, it’d take forever. You saved me tons of time.”
Minho looked genuinely relieved. Insane workload plus forced gaming was brutal.
“How’ll you analyze the data? You seemed swamped.”
“One project’s stalled—pausing it. Gotta wrap this weekend.”
“Lucky,” Minho added. Watching, Hanbit tossed a casual question.
“Mind if I join on that?”