Chapter 6

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Translator: Wjin

Chapter: 6

Chapter Title: The Scout Comrade Next Door

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"Huuuuh..."

Trauma can be so terrifying. My heart dropped when I thought it was the Team Leader.

"Hey, mister, you moved in yesterday, right?"

A guy wearing military cold-weather gear—those long johns—scowled at me.

"Ah, yeah."

"Wanna come up for a sec? If you make noise in the hallway, you'll get kicked out."

The moment we got to the rooftop, he lit a cigarette and fixed me with a steady glare before opening his mouth.

"The soundproofing here is nonexistent, so we all have to be careful. Sounded like you were gaming all night—keyboard clacks and all. I can deal with that, but pounding on walls..."

"I'll be careful. Sorry. First time living somewhere like this."

I messed up, so I owned it clean. I'm not the type to dig in my heels.

"How old are you? We're next door—might as well get along. We'll see each other a lot."

"Twenty-four."

"What? You're in college?"

"Nah, never went."

"No kidding! Me neither! Did you serve?"

"Scout team."

"Whoa, really? What battalion?"

He was a year younger than me. Different units, but we'd both pulled frontline rotations, and his eyes lit up at that.

"Can I call you hyung?"

"Sure."

Like me, he'd come straight up to Seoul from the sticks, job-hunting blindly.

"Jin-seong..."

Yoo Jin-seong—that was his name.

"Hyung's busy. Heading down first."

"W-wait! You eat alone too, right? Let's eat together!"

What a hassle. Why would I...

"Got a ton of side dishes from home!"

I grabbed his hand.

"Scout team loyalty lives on."

By evening, I'd written five parts excluding the prologue. On track to hit my goal for the day.

"Hyung! Hyun-woo hyung!"

Just sharing the same MOS had turned this total stranger from yesterday into a buddy.

"Oh, you're back early."

"First dinner with hyung—time to show off! It'll be ready quick! Sit tight!"

He hauled out every container labeled "Jin-seong." Dumped them into a big bowl, mixed in rice and gochujang.

Finished with a fried egg on top!

Sniff sniff!

This punk...

Sniffing nonstop—he was clearly debating if it was safe to eat.

Street food vibes.

Jin-seong set down the bowl and plopped next to me.

"Mom runs a restaurant, so she keeps sending sides."

He placed chopsticks and a bowl in front of me, eyeing me curiously.

"...Dig in!"

Why aren't you eating first?

What if it's poisoned?

I didn't know about the rest, but that fried egg on rice had my mouth watering.

Just a little...

Scooped mostly egg, little rice. Free food—what's not to eat?

"Holy... this is insane..."

Sorry, bro. I misjudged you.

"Huh?"

"Nah, nothing. It's delicious."

"Haha! Of course! Don't let the looks fool you—I got all of Mom's touch!"

Looks slapped together, but the seasoning was killer. Bean sprouts, braised stuff, radish salad—what else?

Not my decade-long palate rust. This was legit good.

"Haha! Take it slow."

He handed me a cup. Turns out, Jin-seong's a good kid.

"I originally aimed for the Marines but washed out. Glad I landed scout instead."

"What's glad about it?"

"A guy's gotta grind hard!"

...Why grind?

"Sigh... World doesn't bend to my will, though."

Long johns aside, Jin-seong was tall and...

"You could model, make bank. Or open a diner."

Jin-seong froze mid-scoop.

"Hyung, heads-up so you don't slip up later: my dream's North Korean operative."

What? You know what that is?

"Marines was my ticket to NIS or something after."

"..."

Eat fast and bail. This guy's nuts.

"Haven't given up. Who knows? Nab a spy, maybe I go agent! Ha! Shoulda caught one in scouts!"

Wouldn't studying for the exam be faster?

Jin-seong sighed heavily at my words.

"Can't pass the written test. Heard it in school too—'you just ain't book-smart'..."

Every class has a top and bottom dog. Jin-seong was perennial last place.

Classic dimwit with protagonist bones.

He leaned in close, voice low.

Damn, not a pore in sight.

"Knew it—shoulda gone Olympics for a medal... Anyway, that's why this goshiwon. These places are spy dens."

You look the spy...

"Anyway, I'm undercover as a job-seeker, so watch out for me, hyung. Haha! You're the first I've spilled to."

Don't! I don't wanna know!

"What game's got you grinding so hard?"

Soundproofing really sucks.

"Just blowing off steam."

"Get it. Everyone here's like that. Haha! Sit! Coffee mix for after!"

He cleaned up like a pro, humming tunelessly.

Food biz is his calling. Hongdae? Girls lining up.

"Coffee served!"

"...Thanks."

Slurp.

"Tastes good."

No flattery. Kid knows how to make instant taste gourmet.

Couldn't help it with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those puppy eyes staring.

"Tomorrow too?"

"Yes!"

Guess he was lonely. Hunting spies solo ain't easy.

"All good?"

Time to go. Lingering'd drain my sanity.

Back in my room, wrote more. Goshiwon's perk: no forced bedtime.

Whether delusion from my head or real past-life trip—this story'll prove it.

Seven parts down.

Glanced at clock: past 3 a.m.

Platform's set.

Post before bed.

Geulse sang was martial arts only, now branching genres. Means tons of wuxia fans.

Poison or boon? Dunno.

Hardcore fans mean half-assed stuff won't cut it.

Upload and see.

Maybe I'm nuts like next-door. Modern world's full of head cases.

Team Leader, Number 7, decade caged—all hallucination?

Keep intro short.

Subtitles too?

By now, past 3 a.m. Wanted to watch reactions, but bed for tomorrow.

Who reads at 3 a.m.?

"Hoo..."

Lay on bed next to desk, eyes shut. Plan: up at 8 a.m. daily.

Grinded my teeth at the sudden thought, but five hours'd hold on my spry twenty-something bod awhile.

「Things had come to this—I had no choice but to believe I'd returned to the past.

I must stop the Heavenly Demon's invasion of the Central Plains twenty years from now.

For that, I needed to become stronger, and Kunlun needed to grow stronger.

Even mastering every art of our sect wasn't enough against the Heavenly Demon's blade.

So? From now on, we do it different!」

"Whoa, cliffhanger? Wild."

Publishers have newbie scouts.

They comb free boards, webnovel forums, cafes for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talent on arrival.

"Back to past, revive Kunlun Sect? Why didn't I think of that?"

Not just time travel. Seven parts packed punch.

"Protagonist's solid, hype's off the charts. Newbie? Nah, vet! Ten years easy—who?"

He dashed off a message.

Duk Media: top-three genre powerhouse. Expected replies.

No contact?

Stared at this work all day. Anxious other pubs might snag.

"Damn..."

He gnawed a nail.

-Sir, not heading out?

Snapped at the voice behind.

"You go!"

Hated OT, but couldn't leave desk today.

Snagged already?

Pro/7 views inflated—me refreshing multiple times.

Real eyes: Ch. 3's 55. Mix of readers and insiders.

Tick tock.

Past 9 p.m.

"Wrong call..."

Salaryman, sure, but first-scout highs fueled him. Bestseller? Pride swell.

Then it hit.

"Oh! It's up!"

Not reply—next part.

"Again? Seven more?"

"Hoo... Feeling sharp today."

Yesterday: tweaks, character arcs slowed. Today: straight sprint.

Fastest stretch early—protagonist regresses, builds up, trains balls-to-wall.

"Tomorrow: slap uppity elders, sect bigwigs shocked into respect."

Regression hook: future smarts rocket past old life. Pepper with validation hits.

"That aside..."

Views low. Day one, but proof I'm sane or not—tense.

"Messages piling."

Skip 'em. Team Leader maybe. Read? Shaken. Ignore.

Comments: 19...

Comments fine?

Past decade: Team Leader filtered essentials. Raw like this? Awkward.

Oh! Live ones!

19 to 27 post-seven.

Gave it all...

Not my genre, but every word, line—max effort, immersed.

Let's see...