Reunion with Sol and the Devil's Upgrade Quest

Turning into the shabby alleyway where the distinctive smell of exhaust fumes mixed with the aroma of grilling nogari, I spotted the worn red plastic tables set out outdoors. There, in the corner seat, was a figure in a gray hoodie pulled low over their head. A tiny frame that could pass for an elementary school kid was fiddling with their phone. I walked up and lightly tapped the back of their head.

"Hey."

"Ack! Shit, you scared me!"

Lee Sol jumped up and whipped her head around. Twenty-nine years old, my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ass, Sol. Her bare face was all cute baby features. Wow. She hadn't changed a bit since the old days.

"You little shit... Hey, sit down. Just sit."

Sol grabbed my sleeve without warning and forced me into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chair across from her.

"Hey! It's been forever since I saw you, Oppa, and you couldn't just let me scream 'Kyaaah! Oppa!!' and welcome you properly?"

"What the hell! You hit me in the back of the head first thing! No... and!!!"

She rolled her eyes, quickly scanning the surroundings, then leaned over the table and dropped her voice low.

"Be honest. You're into something illegal, right? Voice phishing mule? Toto bookie? Or drug runner?"

"...What bullshit is that."

"No way in hell could you drop 5 million won like it's nothing! You're the guy who shook like a leaf sending me an 18,000-won chicken gift icon on my birthday!"

Ugh. Black history. But seriously, chicken prices have been insane the last few years. Seeing her dead serious, grilling me like that—she must've been really worried.

"That's ancient history. I set up a studio. Things are going well, so I'm making bank these days."

"Studio...? For real?"

"Yup. Fully legit—paying all taxes, business registration and everything. Don't believe me? Come check it out tomorrow. It's still mid-interior work, but..."

"Mid-interior and you're already making money?!"

"Dude... I've got some video gigs pulling in cash. Anyway, that's why your bro here ain't that broke-ass loser anymore!"

Only then did Sol stare straight into my eyes, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "Fuck... I thought you'd stuck your nose somewhere shady and fucked up your life... You scared the shit outta me..."

Her voice trembled a bit at the end, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. What? Enough to cry? I was caught off guard. She must've been really worried.

I raised a hand to call the ajumma working there. "Ajumma, two draft beers first, please. One nogari platter and one egg roll, too."

"Hey! Egg rolls are pricey here! Why order that?!"

Sol whispered so the ajumma wouldn't hear.

"I'm buying with my own money, so shut it. Eat something. You're all bones."

When the cold beer arrived, I clinked glasses with Sol. As the draft slid cool down my throat, old memories surfaced, and a relaxed mood settled in.

"But... you really made it big? I mean, look at your clothes—not that pilled-up rag hoodie from before. And that watch... whoa, it's shiny."

Sol's eyes sparkled as she eyed the watch on my wrist.

"How'd you hit the jackpot? I haven't exchanged that 5 million won yet. If it felt even a little off, I was gonna spit it right back."

"Just keep it. Call it pocket money from your big bro after all this time."

I said it casually, chomping on a nogari dipped deep in mayo. This girl would return every won if she even suspected dirty money.

"And if you're giving it, cash next time!! Those thug streaming platforms skim so much in fees!!"

"If I tip, others will too. Your genius Siwoo here factored that in when he sent it!"

"Pfft, sure you are. Mr. Awesome. But... 5 million in pocket money? You've really climbed the ladder. Meanwhile, I'm scraping by. Ugh! Jealous!"

Sol chugged her beer and pouted.

"Your streams are fun. That plate-teasing avatar's tits are a bit overkill, though."

"Ugh, so embarrassing... That's my ultimate complex. Real life's got this kid bod, so I wanted big ones in virtual ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at least!"

Sol flushed red and flailed.

"Right. Flower of the sad cliff. Ain't that beautiful too?"

"Shut up! You've been on that 'cliff flower' crap forever!!!"

"Kekeke. But why only that many viewers? You talk dirty fine, no audio glitches in games."

"Hmph. Know how many vertubers are out there? Indies like me can't compete with MCNs pouring cash into promo. But 80 concrete viewers? That's something."

Bitter undertones in her voice, but gratitude for those 80 shone through.

"True. Holding 80 in a hako room? Not just anyone pulls that off."

Sol fiddled with her glass, glancing at me.

"That big-tits plate avatar? You chose it after agonizing to make money. You're nailing it—knowing what the masses crave."

She'd usually yell shut up, but she listened quietly. Probably first time anyone validated her job or complex so seriously.

Sol stuffed a huge bite of egg roll in her mouth and mumbled, "Hmph. I try hard enough without you saying. But your studio—what's it do? Passport photos? Weddings? Gotta make money."

I downed the rest of my beer and wiped my mouth. "Nah. It's not for making money."

"Huh? Then?"

"Already swimming in cash. That's for shooting my stuff. Real work."

My shorts, photos, creations I'd compromised on from poverty. Sol caught my gaze and gasped softly, understanding.

"Ah... You've always yapped about making your films, proper photos. Finally chasing the dream?"

"Not that grand."

I dipped more nogari in mayo and met her eyes squarely. "So, here's the thing. First project at the studio—you be my subject."

"Kek! Kek...!!"

Sol choked, pounding her chest. I handed her a tissue; face beet red, she yelled, "Crazy?! I'm 148cm, total gumstick! What photoshoot, you nut?! Who'd use pics of my kid bod?!"

"Not selling 'em. Personal photo project."

"Personal or not! Models gotta be tall, hot, stacked!"

She'd always hated her looks, seen 'em as flaws. Bitched about looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kid-like even as an adult. ID checks for smokes or booze? Half the time they didn't buy it.

But through my camera lens, the world looked different.

"Fakes posing pretty clog the frame. Your streaming avatar? Commercial mask for the crowd."

Sol's eyes went wide.

"But I wanna capture the real behind it. Guts surviving 29 years in this shithole world with a kid bod. Bare-faced, beer-guzzling, potty-mouthed you."

I propped my chin, peering deep into her eyes. "That 'real Sol' in my lens? Pure, blood-boiling story. No fake pretty needed. Just be you. I'll make you a captivating subject."

The nogari house clamor seemed to fade around our table, a strange silence settling. Sol's lips parted, speechless. Her complex—kid bod, plain self—affirmed as art? First in 29 years.

Under the fluorescent lights, her face flushed to her ears. She dodged my gaze, chugging the rest of her beer.

"Fuck... What? Suddenly artist mode. Making me cringe."

"So. Model for me or not."

"Ugh, whatever! Pity you're desperate, so I'll do it!"

"O~~ Oppa? Since when oppa?"

She's embarrassed—calling me oppa now.

"Fuck! Anyway!! But if it looks weird, I'll smash your lenses! Do it right!"

"Know how much those cost? Just show up. Baggy hoodie like always is fine."

"What? Photoshoot! Don't you need heavy makeup, outfits?!"

"Told you, no fakes. I'll direct—just follow."

She grumbled but couldn't hide her twitching smile. Cute kid.

"Deal. Get hyped. Call you when studio's done."

"Whatever! Ajumma! Another draft here!"

Sol bellowed into the air, face about to burst. I patted her head and leaned back comfy.

Yeah. For now, shelve the dark biz ideas with her. Unless she wants it... it'd wreck her life.

After a few more drafts, we stood. Buzzed on booze, Sol wobbled happily. I grabbed her hoodie nape, hauled her to the main street, taxi'd her into the back seat.

Window whirred down; flushed face poked out. "Siwoo oppa! No, hyung! Today was blast!! So good seeing you. Wanna hang more!"

"Why correct to hyung? Sigh, get home safe—text when you arrive."

"Yup! Next time I buy!! Something tasty, for real!! Hit me up!!"

I waved at the receding taxi, smiling faintly. She'd always treated to the good stuff. Now my turn—beyond this nogari.

Silly kid. Inhaled the night air, feeling great. Way better than dark side bullshit—pure, no-strings bonds refresh the soul.

Yeah. More normal light in my life from here on.

I pulled a smoke from my pocket, lit it—

Ding- A cheery mechanical chime rang; a translucent holographic window popped in my forward vision. The familiar system interface from app tweaks blocked my view unbidden. Its border flashed red.

The cig dropped from my mouth, hitting the ground.

Under 150cm. Slender build. Streaming experience. Fuck... This nailed Lee Sol, who just taxied off.

And the rewards? Insane. No clue on Level 2 details, but it'd amp this cheat power. Three months free? At monthly billions, that's 150 billion won saved.

Seconds ago, vowing human life, spare Sol for pure art. This shithole system, peeking my brain, mocking—dangles irresistible bait, testing me.

I ground the fallen cig underfoot, glaring at the floating hologram.

"Ha... for real."

Shitty app. God? Alien? Whatever—they said they gave powers spotting my twisted lacks. But they're the twisted ones. This quest screamed pure malice. Dragging me deeper into the swamp.

Fuck.