Everyone Must Worship

I woke up and checked the gallery, only to find that the funeral vibes were gone. The whole place had exploded into pure chaos.

A soft chuckle slipped out as I read through the gallery’s cheerful atmosphere. Especially satisfying was watching those comment-army bastards tuck their tails and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠run at dawn. Trying to manipulate public opinion? Pathetic.

I’m not usually this weak to praise, but these people had gone way past compliments. They were straight-up worshipping me like some famous pro gamer or soccer star.

Then again, if an unidentified Myth-grade awakened turned out to be Korean, even I’d want to sing their praises.

Smiling contentedly, I drifted back to sleep.

*****

At the same time. National Observatory.

Chief Researcher Kim Sanghyuk couldn’t sit or stand still. He was trembling in front of his monitor.

Three months ago, when some of the stars in the Libra constellation had vanished entirely, he had fainted on the spot. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ This time, he didn’t even have the luxury of passing out.

The sun—the very heart of the solar system—had disappeared for eight minutes and twenty seconds before returning.

It wasn’t a solar eclipse. It was a phenomenon that defied scientific explanation.

Ever since awakened individuals and gates appeared, plenty of things had stopped making scientific sense. But this was on a completely different scale.

“This… this isn’t an astronomical event…”

With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone.

“Connect me to the Blue House… right now. Immediately.”

*****

Blue House, Presidential Office.

President Im Jihoo couldn’t seem to put down the report in his hands.

Just a few hours earlier, he had personally ordered Kim Suhyun to surrender. He had told her to accept China’s help in order to save thousands of citizens.

Before the message could even reach the Chinese side—the sun had fallen from the sky, and everything had flipped upside down.

“Has the trace been completed?”

“We’re narrowing it down through reverse tracking. Launch angle of the light pillar, delay in shockwave origin, satellite afterimages… the search area is shrinking rapidly.”

At his aide’s report, Im Jihoo spoke slowly.

“This person… is not our enemy.”

His voice trembled with quiet intensity.

“At the moment when the nation’s survival was on the line, this individual turned the entire situation around with a single move. He is, without question, a hero of this country. We must treat him with the utmost care and the highest respect.”

The aide continued.

“We aren’t the only ones looking. Intelligence agencies around the world are analyzing the same footage. The CIA, China… especially China’s movements are highly suspicious.”

Im Jihoo’s eyes narrowed.

“They won’t be trying to welcome him, I assume.”

“…No, sir. If they decide they can’t have him, they’ll try to eliminate him.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

“So we need to move even faster—”

Im Jihoo cut him off firmly.

“Coercion is absolutely forbidden. The fact that someone with this much power has kept his identity hidden until now means he does not wish to be found.”

He rose from his seat.

“Find him. By any means necessary… but do it with respect. We must make contact first. Before China does.”

The reverse-tracking net was closing in.

South Korean mainland. Seoul. And the western districts.

*****

At the same time. Chinese Hunter Management Association.

China had sent a fleet and multiple S-class hunters to Korea, only to return empty-handed.

That humiliating footage had already been broadcast live around the world, reaching the other side of the planet.

The Association President had watched the video nearly twenty times.

“…So Korea was hiding a card like this.”

His voice was low and suppressed, barely containing his rage as he spoke to his aide.

“A being who can erase a Sea Dragon single-handedly and use the sun itself as a weapon.”

The aide asked carefully.

“Should we attempt to recruit him? The way we’ve been pulling Korean awakened individuals—”

“He won’t come.”

The Director General stopped the video. On the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠screen was the West Sea, split clean in half.

“Someone with that kind of power who still hasn’t revealed his name isn’t the type money can buy.”

He continued in a low voice.

“Then there’s only one answer. If we can’t have it, neither can Korea. Find him and erase him before he notices we’re tracking him.”

“The predicted residential zone has already been calculated.”

The President pointed at the map.

“Seoul. Western districts.”

While South Korea moved to welcome its hero, the other side was quietly sharpening its blade.

*****

Crash— Beep-beep—

The sound of the door lock opening.

“Star Baby!!”

Kim Suhyun, finally released after the situation ended, burst through the door looking utterly exhausted.

She had stood in a thirteen-hour standoff, ready to die. She should have been the one collapsing.

Yet the moment she saw me lying pale and buried in the bed, she forgot about her own condition and rushed over.

“Hey!! You again! Why are you always on the verge of death…”

She ran to the bathroom for a wet towel, rummaged through the medicine cabinet, and started tearing the room apart in her frenzy. “And! That suicide note and password you sent me on Discord yesterday!! Forget all of it! You didn’t open the computer, right?!” I gave a weak nod. “…Really? You really didn’t open it? Hey, look me in the eyes and answer.” She shoved her face right up to mine, suspicious. I nodded again, even weaker, to show I hadn’t opened the folder. Only then did she sigh in relief and place a cool towel on my forehead. Truthfully, I had memorized the password the second I saw it on Discord. 1234567878. You never know what might happen. But now that she told me not to read it… honestly, I was even more curious. What on earth had she written? I was about to close my eyes, enjoying the gentle way she kept refreshing the towel, when her hand suddenly froze mid-motion. “…Huh?” Her blue-silver eyes trembled. “…There are… stars flickering in your eyes.” My heart went cold. The aftermath of pushing my power to its absolute limit must still be visible in my eyes. “It’s nothing…” “Unregistered. No traces during the day. Incidents always happen at night or dawn. Star-type ability. Western Seoul region.” Suhyun began muttering to herself. With every word, the color drained further from her face. “You… you’re always passed out like a corpse during the day and only recover at dawn. And we’re in Kangseo-gu.” Her voice started to crack. “And today the sky split over the West Sea, and when I come home, you’re lying here exhausted at exactly the right time.” Her blue eyes wavered. “You’re telling me all of this is just coincidence?” “Star Baby…” Suhyun murmured blankly. “The time you asked me to delete that post… that was you too, wasn’t it, Libra?” I wanted to deny it. I was afraid that if I told her, our relationship would fall apart. But I couldn’t keep lying anymore. So I slowly lifted my trembling hand. A tiny spark of starlight bloomed at my fingertip—then fizzled out weakly. That was all my drained body could manage. It was more than enough as proof. “……Holy shit.” Suhyun covered her mouth with both hands. “You were the one who summoned Libra… and split the West Sea…?” “…And in the West Sea. The one who saved me. That was you too?” Tears welled up in her blue-silver eyes. Instead of answering, I simply blinked once. “You crazy girl!” Suhyun grabbed my shoulders and shook me. She sounded angry, but her eyes were crying. “Something like this! All by yourself!! In that condition… if something really happens to you, then I…” Her words caught in her throat. The strength in her grip on my shoulders melted away. “What am I supposed to do…?” That single sentence left me stunned too. Come to think of it, ever since I gained this power, I had always been alone. If I was discovered, it was over. I’d either be dragged off by the Association and worked to death, or turned into a target. So I had never told a single person my identity. But now… there was exactly one person in the world who knew I was Libra. The fact that it happened to be the person who had been chasing me the hardest was honestly kind of funny. After a long while, Suhyun sniffled and stood up. ‘Even the way she sniffles is cute.’ While I was having that ridiculous thought, Suhyun’s expression gradually grew serious. ‘What? Did she hear that thought??’ She continued. “Enough. From now on, you keep your mouth shut.” “…?” “Whether it’s the Association, China, or anyone else. I’ll block them all.” Suhyun thumped her own chest. “I’m S-class. And the Association’s information network is ultimately tied closely to me. If I seriously interfere, no one will be able to touch you.” My heart swelled. I knew I could trust her— That was the exact moment. Vrrrr— Suhyun’s Association terminal rang. The moment she checked the screen, her face slowly hardened. I caught a glimpse of it too. The message read:

“…Huh?”

Suhyun looked at me. I looked at her.

We had only just become partners, and tracking was already at our doorstep. On top of that, I was a corpse who couldn’t move a single finger in broad daylight, and Suhyun was battered and exhausted.

Both of us were in the worst possible condition.

A brief silence.

Then.

Knock knock knock—

A knock sounded from the front door.

******

In the hallway, a shadow stopped in front of Star Baby’s door.

A gloved hand rose toward the surface of the door.

The shadow murmured softly.

“So the child who commands the stars… really lives here.”

Knock knock knock—