[Contribution rate: 3¿7%]
The moment that message appeared, crimson sparks flared up, and the system window vanished, leaving behind only ashes.
My heart pounded so hard it echoed in my eardrums, and cold sweat dampened my palms.
The fashion show had reached its final stretch—models lined up for the finale. I turned as the main designer appeared on stage.
“What are you doing?”
Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm with force and yanked me backward.
“It’s not over yet.”
When I turned, I saw Min Jiheon’s eyes widen with confusion.
“Why...”
He seemed to say something, but I couldn’t hear a word.
The lights dimmed again. The show must have ended.
I pushed through the crowd that gathered for greetings and small talk, heading quickly toward the exit.
The packed space, the mixture of heavy perfumes, and the babble of foreign languages—everything felt suffocating.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’
Shaking my dizzy head, I pulled out my phone and called Kang Ichae.
The signal went through, but no one picked up. I reached the underground parking lot and leaned against a wall, staring into the empty air.
What the hell was that contribution rate, and why had Ichae’s stats suddenly opened?
I tried calling again several times, then checked The Dawn’s group chat. It was quiet—everyone must have been busy.
[Kang Ichae: So excited for tomorrow!!!!]
That mischievous message from just a few hours ago was the last thing left.
I rubbed my face, steadied my breathing, and searched for the number of Ichae’s newly assigned manager.
[Oh? Oh, Mr. Hoyun—]
“Where is Kang Ichae right now?”
I cut in before the person could finish.
[What? Ah... actually, I think he’s probably at the hotel.]
“Doesn’t he have a schedule?”
[Because of his condition... the interview got postponed. He said it was just a light cold, but he didn’t look good at all...]
“...Are you sure he’s at the hotel?”
[After the other members left, I saw him take his medicine before I left.]
“Sorry, could you go check on him again?”
[...Um, alright.]
The manager’s hesitation was clear—he didn’t want to bother someone who was supposedly sick. But this unease wouldn’t leave me until I heard Ichae’s voice myself.
While I chewed on the inside of my cheek, the manager seemed to have reached Ichae’s room. Soon, the sound of the doorbell rang faintly through the receiver.
[Huh, no answer even when I ring... hold on a sec...]
There was a rustling noise, then the sound of a door opening—he must have used the master key.
[Mr. Kang Ichae—...]
“Is he there?”
[No, he’s not—]
“Please look around in case he’s nearby, and contact me again.”
I hung up immediately.
A curse slipped out under my breath.
‘Fuck... stay calm. Stay calm.’
When I’d left the hotel earlier, there hadn’t been any sign that something was wrong. He’d been cheerful—excited about going out with the members tomorrow.
‘It’s nothing. It has to be nothing.’
I had to return to the hotel first.
Maybe by the time I got there, the manager would message to say everything was fine.
Just as I forced down the surge of panic and stepped forward again—
“Seriously, this is driving me insane...”
A shadow blocked my path.
“Why are you walking so fast?! Did you forget this is a public event—”
Panting, Min Jiheon started yelling, but stopped the moment he saw my face.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I ignored him and headed for the van.
“Hyung, what’s going on—”
Bzzzzzt—
The tinnitus that had disappeared before came back, sharp and loud.
Instead of Jiheon’s voice, only a piercing, ominous ringing filled my ears.
Ding!
[Opening Item Shop.]
The Item Shop—something I hadn’t looked at in weeks since I’d been focused on restoring Seo Hojin’s memories—suddenly opened on its own.
[A new item has been granted to Player Seo Hoyun.]
[Would you like to check it?
Yes / No]
Before I could react, the item was drawn as if someone else were controlling it. Points were deducted automatically, “Yes” was selected on its own, and a burst of white light exploded «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» before my eyes.
[Item: ‘Follow Inside’
If he dies, it’s your fault.]
Only a single, mocking line appeared on the item window—none of the usual warnings or detailed notes.
Rustle.
A faint sound accompanied the sensation of paper crumpling in my right hand. When I unfolded it, I saw a torn scrap, like a ripped notebook corner.
Standing beside me, Min Jiheon leaned in to look.
‘XXth Street, Brooklyn, NY—’
And at the end of the English address—
‘Ichae Kang’
—A familiar name.
“Hyung, where are you going!”
Before I could think, my body was already moving. I had to find Kang Ichae. Jiheon’s startled shout echoed behind me.
Then I remembered what the manager had said earlier—taking the van or public transport would take too long. I turned and held out my hand to Jiheon.
“Min Jiheon, you said you rented a car.”
“What?”
“Give me the keys.”
“Wait, wait, hold on. Let’s talk first.”
“There’s no time. I’ll explain later, just—”
Clap!
He moved in front of me and clapped his hands loudly to stop me.
“Are you out of your mind?”
Taking a deep breath, he snatched the scrap of paper from my hand and frowned.
“What is this? Why would you just go there without thinking?”
I knew I was being irrational.
I remembered the system’s warning—don’t trust what you see. This could easily be a trap laid by something external to drag me down.
“Ha...”
But Ichae disappearing was a reality staring me in the face. How could I sit still?
“If you won’t help, then move out of the way.”
I grabbed the paper back and started walking, but Jiheon muttered under his breath.
“Ah... I really didn’t want to get involved again.”
He ran ahead, pressed the key, and a black SUV beeped open. He swung open the driver’s door and jerked his chin at me. I quickly got into the passenger seat.
“Breathe.”
After glancing at my pale face, Jiheon sighed softly.
“...Fine. While we’re driving to this place, explain.”
“......The thing that’s been attached to me.”
“Yeah.”
“Ichae took it instead.”
“Wh—what?!”
The SUV lurched.
Jiheon tightened his grip on the wheel, eyes wide.
“For... for how long?”
“...About half a year.”
Since late January, after failing to win the award, through the end of July during Song Camp filming—it must have been attached all that time.
I rubbed my face with both hands and exhaled.
“He got sick once, but after the situation reset, he was fine. We were told to keep an eye on him just in case.”
“How could he be fine? That thing attached to you isn’t something the living can carry. If he looked fine after half a year, then there are only two possibilities.”
Jiheon bit his lower lip.
“Either those entities were desperately holding it back—or Ichae hid it well enough to make it look that way.”
I couldn’t say anything more.
Time crawled unbearably slowly until the SUV finally came to a stop.
We’d arrived in front of a house on the outskirts of the city.
I jumped out, ran through the overgrown yard where vines tangled around neglected plants, kicked aside piles of trash, and grabbed the doorknob of the gray-stained front door. It creaked open.
I strode inside, calling for Ichae, when something caught my eye behind a pillar—a pair of shoes I recognized.
“Fuck...!”
I rushed toward them.
Kang Ichae lay unconscious on the floor.
Blood had dried along his upper lip and chin.
“Ichae.”
I called his name again and patted his cheek, but there was no response.
He was breathing, yet limp and lifeless like a corpse. Panic and dread rose violently in my chest.
I bent down, looping his arms over my shoulders to lift him—
“Hyung, wait. Put him down first.”
Jiheon blocked me, out of breath.
“Taking him to the hospital won’t help.”
He threw off his coat, spread it on the floor, and urged me to lay Ichae on it. I hesitated, then obeyed, lowering him carefully.
Jiheon examined Ichae’s body closely before speaking, a trace of uncertainty in his tone.
“...You know, his condition looks similar to when you collapsed at the station after meeting that woman—Jeong Cheongyeon.”
I turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t be sure, but... maybe he’s in the same state you were then.”
My expression hardened.
If that was true, then Ichae might be trapped again—inside something like Nugu Actor Tycoon.
And time flowed differently there.
“I was scared. Alone in a strange place, wondering if I’d ever return, if anyone would even remember me.”
I remembered how much he hated those times.
“Wondering if everything I believed real was just a dream—or if I’d gone insane.”
“...Is it... bad?”
Jiheon met my gaze silently, and I understood even without words.
“...What if we do what you did before?”
“You mean kill him? You can’t. You and he aren’t in the same condition.”
Last time, Jiheon had helped me dive into my unconscious and reboot the system. I thought maybe the same could work for Ichae.
But he crushed that hope immediately.
“If your existence stands between life and death, he’s still on the living side.”
I could feel my sanity slipping.
I tapped my forehead, trying to think, and suddenly remembered what the system had said countless times.
If there’s causality, the world can operate without backlash. That’s why it kept pushing me to raise recognition and complete quests.
‘But I don’t have time for that now.’
If causality held this world together, maybe that was my key.
The problem was—how many quests it would take, and when the burned system window would rebuild itself.
“...—I get it, and I want to help, but don’t act recklessly— you could really die—...”
Jiheon’s voice blurred and scattered before reaching me.
I couldn’t just stand by.
I needed something faster, stronger than a quest—something stable but with undeniable causality.
“Hey, kid. Got worries?”
“...Ah.”
“If you do, spill them. I’ll counsel you.”
The old conversation from that music video shoot flashed through my mind.
“...—Let’s get ourselves together first. Maybe if we think it over, we’ll find a way—”
“You’re right.”
“...Huh?”
Sensing something wrong, Jiheon flinched and tried to back away.
“Jiheon.”
I stepped closer and grabbed his arm. The bracelet on his wrist jingled softly.
“Kill me.”
