Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: [Reality] Life as the Gallery's Most Hated Nick
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The moment I got home, I threw myself onto the bed.
The squishy mattress and the cool breeze from the AC brought a sense of calm.
"Phew."
I sprawled out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Now I had my C-Rank Hunter license.
If I wanted, I could hop onto a hunter-exclusive site right now, join a party, or sign up for a low-grade dungeon raid.
Normally, any fresh Awakened would be itching to test their powers by now.
They'd be dying to try out their abilities or hunting for gate parties to make some cash.
In fact, the hunter communities were flooded with newbie Awakened desperately seeking parties.
But.
"Why bother?"
I shook my head.
Dungeons and gates in reality carried way too much risk.
One mistake, and you were done for.
No save points. No respawns.
You crossed the River Jordan for good.
My trait, on the other hand?
I already knew everything about that world.
Where the honey pots were, what the boss patterns were, even the heroines' weaknesses.
And reality's time froze while I was in there.
"No comparison."
No need to risk my life scraping pennies in real dungeons.
I could just dive back into Abyss Miner, mine some ore, sell it, and rake in the cash.
Suck the sweet nectar safely in the comics, build my specs, maybe grind some ranks in reality for show.
I could tackle real gates later, once I was strong enough.
I sat up.
"Time to restock first."
I opened my inventory.
All slots full.
First, the bear spray.
Shook it—no sloshing sound.
Used it all on the mutant slimes and Viper's brats.
Time to retire it.
"You served well."
I planted a kiss on the side, then dunked it straight into the trash.
Next, the telescopic baton and stab-proof suit.
Baton was still good—keeping it.
The suit? Honestly, useless now.
My Steel Body was tougher.
Still, just in case, I shoved it deep in the closet.
Sell it on Carrot later or something.
Finally, the busted helmet and Viper bits.
Not even worth scrap.
"Trash."
Shoved them into a garbage bag.
Only the baton left in inventory.
Time to fill the rest.
I ripped open the pre-ordered delivery box.
A bright red canister emerged.
Proven effective—gotta keep one for emergencies.
Left the other two slots open.
Lots to grab from the next world, Mythic Nonsense.
Even if I pop the Vitality Pill right away, still stuff to loot.
"Prep's done."
Was about to dive in when my hunter license caught my eye.
C-Rank.
Insane for a fresh Awakened normie.
Not S, A, or B born, but still respectable.
'Time to brag a bit.'
But who to brag to?
Friends?
None.
Family?
Calling Mom to say "Hey, I became a hunter"...
The memory of getting kicked out made me hesitate.
Yi Arin?
"Bullshit, you're full of crap"—lucky if that's all.
Only one place left.
Logged into the familiar shithole.
My fixed nickname.
In the gallery, I was known as one of those "hated nicks"—not just any troll, but a Ho1gam hated nick.
Likable and Ho1gam differed by just a '1', but it was like night and day.
I pulled so much aggro that regulars foamed at the mouth seeing my name.
Lived up to it with my post.
That ^^ was deliberate salt.
Hit post—views spiked, comments poured in.
Classic.
Abuse, downvote bombs, ridicule, apathy.
Because it was that guy.
Hunterbugs dismissed it as expected—no believers.
"Cute little shits."
I posted knowing it'd get this reaction.
I made the hunterbugs rage.
I controlled their emotions.
'Back in the day, I'd have seethed and replied to every one.'
But this was the leisure of the truly gifted.
They could deny it all they wanted—I was C-Rank.
My real power was higher, growth potential insane.
It was fun.
Even when I went pro, hit TV, topped rankings, I'd shitpost with this nick.
Reveal my identity someday?
Imagining their meltdown already had dopamine surging.
"This is gold."
Chuckling at the comments.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The front door shook like it might break.
"..."
Familiar pattern.
Only one possible visitor.
"Who is it?"
"Hey! Open up! I know you're in there!"
Yup, my one and only sister, Yi Arin.
Her tone screamed attitude.
Tedious, but she'd smash the doorlock if I didn't—got up.
Beep beep.
Door opened—a white blur charged in.
"Ugh, why so slow? I said open up quick."
Yi Arin kicked off her shoes, stormed in.
Oversized hoodie, leggings today.
Casual, but she pulled it off flawlessly.
'Wow...'
I was genuinely impressed.
Saw S-Rank Hunter Choi Ji-na at the Association earlier.
Goddess this, bombshell that.
She was hot, sure.
Celeb looks, killer curves.
But seeing my sister...
Choi Ji-na couldn't hold a candle.
My sister felt like another species.
Like a real elf dropped into reality.
No makeup, yet her skin glowed; those red eyes pulled you in.
Long silver hair looked silkily touchable.
We used to tussle when we got along as kids.
And that legging line, the hoodie-straining bust...
Genetic lottery.
Same womb, yet she hit the jackpot.
God randos my face, handcrafted hers.
As long as she kept her mouth shut.
"What're you staring at? Eyes down."
Yi Arin snapped, sensing my gaze.
"Nah, just... what're you wearing? That's for outside?"
"Piss off. Worry about your own style. Look at those stretched track pants. Not a beggar."
Yi Arin clicked her tongue, headed to the living room.
Heavy banchan container in hand.
"Mom sent more. Such a pain."
"Pain? Why come instead of delivery?"
"Who said I wanted to? Mom checked the fridge herself, told me to see if you're eating right."
Yi Arin grumbled, yanked open the fridge—froze.
Then, icy voice.
"...Hey."
"Yeah?"
"What's this?"
She pulled out a banchan tub from last week—braised dish, untouched, full as new.
Obviously.
Delivery only for a week.
"..."
Yi Arin bit her lip, then glared with those pretty red eyes.
"Why didn't you eat this?"
"Well, uh..."
"N-No... You know Mom woke up at dawn to make this? For you to eat properly, and you didn't even open it?"
"Busy, that's..."
"Busy? Basement gamer like you? Time for chicken delivery but not Mom's food?"
Yi Arin yelled.
She was pissed for real.
"Thought you might lose appetite alone. Picked all your faves. Didn't even peek? Ignoring her effort? No brain in that head?"
"...Sorry."
No defense.
Plus that murderous glare—talk back, and a kitchen knife flies.
Yi Arin slammed the tub down, headed for the door.
"Fine. Hate it? Trash it. Won't make or bring anymore. Starve on chicken."
Stomping off, attitude maxed—grabbing the fresh banchan too.
'Wait, gotta stop her?'
She'd tattle to Mom for sure.
She forgave the panty incident eviction, still sent food—but untouched? Heartbreak city.
Desperate excuse.
"...Didn't wanna eat alone."
"Huh?"
"Sitting solo at the table felt depressing. So delivery."
Total BS.
Lazy, chicken tasty, no cleanup.
But it'd calm her temper.
Yi Arin's face twisted oddly, scanned me disbelievingly.
"...Hah, what a baby. Grown-ass man acting spoiled?"
She sighed deeply.
Kicked off her shoes properly, came over.
"Hey, where's the rice?"
"Huh? Why?"
"To cook, idiot. Use your head. I'll eat with you—wash the rice."
"...Huh?"