1. No Money 2. Turn On New Dimension

The job of an Inquisitor was far more leisurely than I thought… No. It was beyond anything I could have imagined. It made sense, though. Without heretics, there was simply nothing to do. The other priests had endless tasks—starting with confessions, drafting prayers, supporting the slums, and more. But an Inquisitor’s only duty was interrogating heretics.

…Well, since I was technically a priest too, I once tried to help the others with their regular work. They refused, saying there was no need. Now that I think about it, the other Inquisitors seemed to pitch in normally. Did they hate me? Yeah, probably….

Anyway, if word came that a demon had appeared in some region, I would head there, smash their skulls, and drag them back. If a heretic religion sprang up, I would go to that region, smash the heads of everyone connected to it, and haul them in. Then I would keep smashing heads until the heretics repented.

Thanks to that, I was busier than any priest when things got hectic, but when it was quiet, I was the idlest person in the entire order.

Yet the world of New Dimension was overflowing with heretics, and they showed zero signs of repenting. I never had a spare moment. I had never once doubted my own skill… Had my faith weakened after returning to Earth? There wasn’t even a church here to begin with, so I suppose it made sense.

“Haaam…”

Hearing the noisy NPC’s voice, I hid myself deeper in the bushes. If someone asked me when New Dimension was the most annoying, I would answer without hesitation: right now.

I had only shown goodwill, hoping the heretics would repent. So why did I have to suffer through this nightmare? The game’s system was clearly broken. There were already plenty of people hunting me down because of that ridiculous controversy. If word got out that I had a PK bounty on top of it, things would get messy fast.

To clear the mark, I had two options: avoid PKing in town for a full week, or visit a heretic church for confession and a donation. Since I had nothing to give those heretics, I chose the first option.

The silver lining was that the helmet I wore reduced the required time from a week to just three days. On top of that, NPCs had reduced recognition. Once I completely slipped from their awareness, the penalty would drop to almost nothing.

In short, my mission for the next three days was to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stay hidden and avoid the eyes of both players and NPCs. If I could pull that off, I could return to my proper duties, and by then this absurd controversy should have died down.

So I just had to endure a little longer. Endurance was my specialty, after all. No problem…

That was what I believed at the time.

It had already been over a week since that day. Yet the hottest topic in every New Dimension community was still my story. Whenever the fire seemed ready to die, someone tossed in fresh kindling. The moment it began to fade again, more wood was thrown on. A truly endless ending. A bottomless swamp.

“What exactly do they want me to explain?”

Even when I watched the sniping video that accused me of hacking, every movement was perfectly reasonable. If anything, it made me suspect the three attackers were running beginner-level AI. Were they seriously demanding an apology like “Sorry for being too good at the game”? I wasn’t an idiot. Besides, I wasn’t even that skilled.

“My head hurts, seriously…”

Even though the PK mark had vanished, the only thing left to do in New Dimension was interrogate heretics. Sure, my class was Inquisitor, but… I still wanted to enjoy at least a little bit of actual gameplay.

There were AOS matches, PVP arenas, and travel modes, but what had drawn me to New Dimension in the first place was the open-world RPG experience. The breathtaking scenery I could savor after defeating powerful foes wasn’t something I could easily abandon.

“Haa…”

Ding!

The moment I sighed, trying to swallow the anger boiling in my chest, my phone notification went off. And the content of that alert only made me angrier.

I immediately opened my banking app, Toss. After the fingerprint scan, the balance in my remaining living-expenses account appeared.

Anyone could see it was scraping rock bottom.

The realization that I needed to make money drained all the energy from my body in an instant. Moments like this always made me miss the other world. Over there, simply smashing heretic heads guaranteed three meals a day and a place to sleep….

But I had to push those old memories aside. I needed to earn money. The biggest problem was figuring out how.

I had become a shut-in against my will, never once wanting it. So what exactly could someone like me do to make money?

For fifteen months I had cut back, cut back, and cut back again on spending. Buying the Reverse Capsule had wiped out half of my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠year’s living expenses. That was the only reason the money that should have run out long ago had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lasted until this month.

But now it was truly over. Next month, the moment November 10 arrived, the amount left in my account would be ₩97,450. The only word that fit was ruin.

The one silver lining was that I wouldn’t be kicked out of the house right away. After all, the house was registered in my name. When I first learned that, I had been overjoyed… In South Korea, owning your own home was proof of success, evidence that you could play and eat without ever working again.

But that wasn’t true. Having a house was merely the minimum qualification to become a rich NEET. It wasn’t a guaranteed ticket.

Thanks to that, I was about to become a NEET who had a house but no money. I couldn’t sell the house either…. It really felt hopeless.

“Haa.”

…Since there was nothing I could do right now, I might as well play New Dimension. If I helped the heretics, maybe Ia would reward my good deeds with a miracle?

It was a good idea, even if I did think so myself.

Tyuni, comprehensive game streamer. Her latest broadcast chat was far too lively to be called a small-channel stream. No. More accurately, it wasn’t just lively—it was on fire.

‘What the hell do these people want from me…?’

An increase in viewers was good. For a streamer like Tyuni, viewer count meant income, and as a small creator she needed every won. But if most of the new traffic was trolls? Immediate profit would rise, yet future earnings would clearly drop. It was a common story in internet broadcasting—trolls would flood in, ruin the atmosphere, and drive away the regular fans.

If she could at least become one of the so-called “big names” in exchange, it might be worth it… but the problem was that once these troublemakers lost interest in the controversy, they would abandon the stream without hesitation and move on to the next target.

In other words, it would lead straight to bankruptcy instead of success. For Tyuni, who was already a small streamer, that was a situation she absolutely had to avoid.

‘Why are they coming after me of all people…?’

Just because the Inquisitor had appeared in her recent broadcast, the community had marked her coordinates. Someone might ask if it made sense for people to swarm over something so trivial, but unfortunately the vast internet was full of exactly those kinds of lunatics.

Tyuni was somehow holding on for now, but honestly her mental state had already reached its limit. Still, if there was one thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she felt despite everything—

‘Honestly, it doesn’t look like hacks…’

—it was a strange sort of trust toward the Inquisitor.

As a streamer sensitive to community reactions, Tyuni naturally knew the rough details of the “Inquisitor Incident.” A surprise 1-versus-3 fight. A situation where anyone would say the lone fighter was at a disadvantage. Yet that lone fighter had casually dodged the ambush and counterattacked, while the trio failed to land even a single proper hit—including the surprise attack—and lost.

Could that really happen without hacks? That was the core of the controversy.

Current community opinion sat at 9:1. Ninety percent claimed hacks, ten percent claimed skill. Tyuni belonged to the ten percent. Apart from the thirty times her own head had been smashed, she had played enough games to know that the Inquisitor’s movements hadn’t felt unnatural at all.

‘Even among the people screaming hacks, some are probably just saying it because it’s more entertaining that way…’

“Huh?”

The moment the chat caught her eye and she snapped back to attention, someone wearing full plate armor and carrying a warhammer was walking straight toward her.

Clank. Clank.

A sound that was all too familiar. So familiar it triggered PTSD in Tyuni. The owner of that sound was, of course, the most infamous user in every New Dimension community right now.

“…Am I going to die again?”

Tyuni no longer had any will to resist. All that remained was a quiet heart waiting for the familiar death.

Clank. Clank.

The instant the Inquisitor stood right in front of her—

Seeing the flood of messages from one malicious viewer, Tyuni’s consciousness snapped awake.

“Excuse me, Mister Inquisitor! Wait just a moment pleeeease?!”

Her streamer instincts were screaming. Her intuition as a content creator was shouting at full volume.

‘This is going to work. This is absolutely going to work…!’