“System Auto Re-Update?”
The moment I saw that insane popup, my mind started racing. Thinking back to the last update incident, the first priority had to be...
“Stop it!”
[Forcing an update stop may cause errors.]
Goddamn it. I couldn’t just kill the process, not knowing what catastrophe might ensue. I had to assess the situation before making any move.
And... last time, after an update, Stia Cha Yoo jin had woken up. If that pattern repeated...
I sprang to my feet and began checking each room.
“M-Mundae? What are you running around for... huh?”
“Bro, working out?”
Then I found them: one passed out face-first over a laptop, one collapsed with an e-book in hand, another slumped against a bookshelf, white paper in hand but eyes closed.
“....”
Kim Rae bin, Bae Sejin, Ryu Geon woo—three of them. I almost bit my tongue. Could three people really fall asleep at once? And only those who’d complained of dizziness last update?
Others who were awake went pale the moment I briefed them.
“Wait, you don’t mean....”
“Seriously? Again?”
While some panicked over whether to rush them to a hospital, I thought harder. What caused this? I replayed the popup message: Owner dissatisfaction detected... re-update?
A thought struck me. Could the system have judged my refusal to fill out its survey as “dissatisfaction” and triggered this?
Damn it. It sounded like it intended to tweak itself until I used it properly—some twisted customer-satisfaction CS. Chilling.
Yet we’d prepared for another update scenario. After all, we’d lived through it once.
I met eyes with Cha Yoo jin. He nodded slightly. He still remembered the last update. Even if those three got rolled back to that moment, blowing away that damn public-broadcast survival show might leave us in a more stable state than before.
In fact, experiencing it together was better than facing it alone—it prevented the isolating panic that made Cha Yoo jin nearly snap last time.
“But side effects are...” I trailed off. “If this keeps up, half our members might forget what they were doing.”
“......”
I clenched my teeth. No chance of group activity until everything restored.
“Sorry, guys.”
“...!” Keun Sejin’s face softened as he patted my shoulder. “Mundae, why are you taking all the blame? We’re just sorting things out.”
True—it was my responsibility. But I bit back. No point ruining the mood. Instead, we made a plan.
“I vote no hospital. [Waking up in a sterile bed? So cliché—it’d seem like a joke.]”
“Still... better safe than sorry. We need to contact someone, just in case.”
“Right. And when they wake, we must be ready with an explanation. Agreed?”
The decision: stay in the dorm. Gather photos, data, YouTube clips, portal screenshots as evidence, then explain. If anything goes wrong, manager on standby to rush to the ER. If they don’t wake in thirty minutes, we head to a hospital.
We each took posts outside the rooms. The tense silence felt like cold sweat on every forehead.
A few minutes later, a shout rang out.
“...I’m... here...!”
“...!!” Seon Ah hyun cried. We sprinted to his post: Bae Sejin’s room.
Seon Ah hyun, already inside, called over his shoulder, “I think he’s waking up...!” Sure enough, Bae Sejin’s facial muscles twitched.
Phew. A tense moment.
“Ugh...”
“.......” Bae Sejin pressed his eyes and sat up. I braced myself—Stia Bae Sejin had once been framed for drugs, expelled, maybe even jailed. He’d likely grown deeply distrustful of the industry. Approaching him had to be delicate.
Before I could plan, he peered at us in shock. “What are you doing in my room?”
“W-We’re fine, bro!”
“Of course I’m fine! Falling asleep reading a book doesn’t mean you....” He froze when he spotted the evidence we’d piled in his arms. “What is all this?”
“...That is...”
I realized he wasn’t affected. Good. After a quick rundown, he joined our side.
In the hallway he glanced between Kim Rae bin’s and Ryu Geon woo’s doors. “So you’re saying I could’ve ended up like Cha Yoo jin last time?”
“Don’t tease him,” Kim Rae bin grumbled.
“You’re one to talk,” Bae Sejin snapped back. Surprisingly peaceful.
Meanwhile I remembered what to do next. Bae Sejin didn’t revert to Stia mode, but the others might. Better to prepare them.
I debated whether to warn them of the trauma they’d faced.
In the end, I called out to the one still silent, Ryu Geon woo, who’d been leaning against the bookshelf.
“Hyung.”
No response. Hmm. I tried again, using his full name.
“Ryu Geon woo.”
At that, he bolted awake. “Oh my god!”
“Does he always wake like that?” someone muttered.
“It’s like a cult film,” another quipped. Relief washed over me—calling his name had worked.
But Ryu Geon woo’s expression wasn’t warm; it was wary. He detected only Cha Yoo jin and Kim Rae bin. He didn’t know Park Mundae. That meant...
“Is your group called Stia?”
“Huh? Y-yes, but what’s going on...?”
Shit.
Ryu Geon woo had snapped back to his Stia-era self.
“Thank you.” I offered him a bottle of water—he held it but didn’t drink. At least his expression had its old calm.
“But first, I need you to explain the situation,” he said.
I quickly reviewed my briefing to Cha Yoo jin. Though Ryu Geon woo’s memories were hazy, he retained enough to recognize details. Cha Yoo jin’s impression: “You were intimidating then—burnt out but twistedly resilient.” Not the best phrasing, but it got the point across: we had to handle him delicately.
With utmost seriousness, we began explaining under visuals, web evidence, witness testimony. But Stia Ryu Geon woo simply examined the materials again and again without speaking.
“....” No blowout yet.
After a long pause he said, “I see.”
“Huh?” we all exclaimed.
He tapped his head. “Hard to believe, but you can’t fake a portal site’s records.” He smiled wryly as he checked our photos and albums. “You can’t fake all of this, either.”
“.......” Our relief was palpable.
“So, you have a schedule now? You should share it with me ASAP.”
“Schedule?”
Ryu Geon woo answered casually, “Better for me to handle some activities than suddenly pause the group.”
“...!” He looked around at the unfamiliar faces and gave a shy grin. “I’m confident in my skills and determination.”
Wait. So... it wasn’t over? This took an unexpected turn.
