Cheat Program - Ver 0.1

"…Cheat Program?"

I stared blankly at the translucent window floating in front of me. I'd shouted for a status screen, and something had actually appeared. The problem was, it wasn't really a status screen at all.

No level. No stats. No skills. Instead, plastered at the very top of the window was a phrase that looked shady no matter how you read it.

"This is honestly just… weird."

I carefully reached out and gave the translucent pane a light poke.

The instant my fingertip touched it, a new category unfolded beneath the program. And inside it were exactly two entries.

"Huh?"

NOVA Syndicate I understood. That was the game the original owner of this body had gotten busted cheating in. The problem was the second one.

LIFE.

Dictionary definition: being alive, existence, a living thing. Even with nothing but a high-school diploma, I knew that much.

But why—why the hell was this sitting under the Game category?

In that moment, a short clip I'd scrolled past once flickered through my mind.

The simulation universe hypothesis?

The idea that the universe we live in isn't a real world at all, but some massive virtual construct someone built. I'd written it off as nonsense at the time—so why was it the first thing that came to mind when I looked at this?

Yeah, but why should I care?

Whether the world was a simulation or not had nothing to do with me. There was only one thing that mattered right now: my life was going down the drain in real time.

I reached out and tapped the LIFE category first. More sub-entries unfurled beneath it.

"…And what the hell is this supposed to be."

Figuring out what both entries meant wasn't hard. The real question was why they were filed under LIFE at all.

I gave both items a poke with my finger.

All I got back was a cold, mechanical message denying access.

I have no idea…

I didn't know why my body had changed like this, or why I'd suddenly been handed something that looked like a status screen. Someone in my position had no business knowing the logic behind how the categories were sorted.

What mattered right now wasn't the name. It was the function.

Nullifying all cheat detection and sanctions… does that mean even the fact that the original owner used hacks gets wiped?

The biggest risk I had while operating as the VTuber Bullet was a ban. That was ironclad evidence—nothing I could argue away.

But if no sanctions had been applied? Then at least a sliver of a chance was still left on the table.

First things first—check whether I got banned.

Forty-eight hours had passed since the hacking scandal blew up.

On top of that, this Fall of the Great tournament might have been organized by Peanut Man, but it was still officially backed by the game company. Between that and the public pressure, the results should have come out by now.

I bolted upright from the bed and sat down at the computer.

Wrrrrr—

I hit the power button. The low hum of the cooler spun up, and light flooded the monitor.

"Ah, shit."

Trying to log into NOVA Syndicate, I realized I didn't know the ID or the password. Even the streaming account had stayed logged in thanks to auto-login, so there was no reason for me to have remembered them.

Guess I've got no choice.

I ended up going through account recovery from scratch. Confirmed the ID, reset the password. Only then did I finally manage to get into this body's account.

"Please, please…"

I clasped both hands tight as I stared at the loading screen. If I'd been banned, what came up next wouldn't be the main menu—it'd be the sanctions notice.

"Oh…!"

The black screen peeled away. What appeared beyond it wasn't a ban notice—just the completely ordinary main menu of the game.

"Yes!"

I threw both arms straight up over my head and bounced in my chair.

"Ugh…"

But the joy didn't last. A sharp, throbbing ache shot up through my chest, and I immediately clamped both hands over it.

"Ah—okay, gotta be careful with that from now on…"

For some reason it felt embarrassing. My face burned as I fanned myself with one hand and grabbed the mouse with the other.

Dodging the ban was good news, but it was still too early to relax. It was entirely possible the sanctions just hadn't been applied yet.

Ding—

Right then, a notification chime rang out, and a red exclamation mark lit up on the mailbox. An ominous color—and a letter that had arrived as if it had been waiting for me to log in.

No way… right?

With a trembling hand, I moved the mouse and opened the mailbox.

"Haaah…"

Only after reading every word did I let out a rough breath. That was when I realized it—I'd been holding my breath without even noticing.

So in the end, I didn't get caught…

Somehow I'd had a feeling it would turn out this way. But confirming it with my own two eyes was a whole different kind of relief.

With this, the biggest risk is gone.

The problem was everything from here on out. I had to decide how I was going to act going forward.

I'd dodged the worst outcome. But that didn't mean everything was solved.

If anything, things only got harder from here.

Whether I'd meant to or not, I'd caused trouble for everyone around me. Controversy had engulfed the tournament, and the organizer, Peanut Man, had even issued an apology out of a sense of responsibility. My teammates had lost practice time because of me, and the mood on the team had probably turned sour.

What the hell am I even supposed to do about this…

I let out a long sigh.

Biting my lower lip, I tapped my fingers against the desk a few times.

No matter what excuse I make, people aren't going to look at me kindly. The cleanest move would be to prove I wasn't hacking and then drop out of the tournament, but…

That wasn't an option.

Why?

I was already branded as unlikeable by countless streamers and viewers. Drop out of the tournament here and go back to solo streaming? That was suicide.

I wouldn't even be able to join a proper collab, let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone a major server. Even if someone got curious about my stream, the scandal and the image would act as a barrier to entry.

I'd just slowly wither away and disappear.

Rather than end up like that, I had to cling to this tournament no matter what it took. There was a reason small-time streamers kept hovering around collabs even when they could barely be heard over the noise.

Kevin Kelly, former editor-in-chief of Wired, once said that a creator only needs a thousand true fans to make a living without any trouble.

Just like that—if I could pull in even a little traffic from this tournament, if I could secure the bare minimum ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of viewers who would stick up for me—then I could survive somehow.

Because I've got abilities now.

I'd avoided the ban. So now it was time to figure out exactly what this status screen could do.

Expanding the NOVA Syndicate category revealed two abilities. They even had levels next to them, which made the whole thing feel like I was actually playing a game.

Honestly, I was a little disappointed. When it said Cheat Program, I'd expected something that reeked of obvious hacks—aimbot, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ESP, that kind of thing.

Guess the version number next to it isn't just for show…

I had no idea how you even raised the version, but since I'd been given the abilities, I might as well try them out.

I entered the training range and picked a random hero. Then I immediately spawned a straw dummy that moved left and right in front of me.

First, let's check the correction rate.

I deliberately put my crosshair somewhere completely wrong and pulled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the trigger.

Tadadadadang—

Bullets sliced through empty air with a cheerful rattle.

Yeah, that doesn't work.

So it didn't force completely off-target shots to land. Next—close range.

I brought the crosshair just off to the side of the dummy's body and clicked the left mouse button. In that instant, my wrist flicked slightly.

Tang—!

The bullet didn't hit the head. But it struck the body cleanly. And there was something like an intent in it—something that had been trying to pull toward the head.

So it doesn't move the crosshair for me—it corrects my body to make the shot land?

There was no sense of my body being forced to move. My wrist, my fingers—everything moved under my own will. But if you asked whether it was truly what I'd intended… that would be a no.

Tadadadadadang—!

Even so, this alone was more than satisfying.

NOVA Syndicate was a hyper-FPS, so landing headshots was no easy feat. Just packing this many bullets into the body was more than threatening enough.

Next, let's check this one.

I was about to test the second ability, ABILITY READ, when—