The waitress with the copper-orange hair approached the table carefully, as if carrying something precious. In her hands, a small ceramic cup of black coffee, steam curling upward in the cool air of the café. She set it down in front of Han Joon-seong with a soft clink, her cheeks still holding that faint pink flush.
"There you go," she said. "One strong black coffee. No sugar."
Han Joon-seong nodded his thanks, and she retreated behind the counter, stealing one more glance over her shoulder before busying herself with the espresso machine.
Ervin, hovering in his usual spot behind and above, looked down at the cup. Black. Bitter. The kind of coffee he had always despised. In his old life, he had never understood how anyone could drink the stuff straight, it was harsh, acrid, an assault on the tongue with no redeeming qualities beyond the caffeine. The energy wasn't worth the suffering. But he had always thought, in some abstract way, that drinking strong black coffee looked incredibly cool. The kind of thing a composed, dignified person did. A protagonist thing.
And now he had a body that could do it without flinching.
Han Joon-seong lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow sip. The bitterness flooded his mouth. Ervin registered the data, a sharp spike of the unpleasant flavor with a "bleh". But the body's face remained perfectly calm. Not a twitch. Not a grimace. He set the cup down with the same unhurried composure, as if he had done it a thousand times before.
At a nearby table, an older man in a linen shirt glanced over. He watched the young man take another sip of the black coffee without any visible reaction, and something like approval flickered across his face. A woman by the window noticed too, her gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. 'How composed,' 'How Dignified' seemed to be the collective impression.
Ervin, from his disembodied perch, thought: 'Bitter. Extremely bitter. But so damncool.'
Han Joon-seong pulled out his phone, opened a news app, and began scrolling through articles. It was a natural way to pass the time, and much more importantly, it was productive. Ervin called up the status window, the familiar blue interface materializing in his awareness.
[[System]
Player: Ervin Mandor
Character 1; Han Joon-seong
[Characteristics:
Adaptation(Perfect)
Talent(Perfect)
Auto Pilot(Perfect)
Money(Perfect|Middle-class)
Looks(Lvl. 5)
Speed(Lvl. 4)(10/80)
Strength (Lvl. 4)(22/80)
Endurance (Lvl. 5)(42/160)
Vigor (Lvl. 5)(10/160)
Intelligence (Lvl. 3)(5/40)
[Tasks:
[Settle Differences — Make peace with Han Do-yun.]]
As he suspected, Intelligence gained experience when Han Joon-seong read something. It didn't have to be anything particularly complex, but the more difficult the material, the better the gains. What made it even more efficient was a quirk Ervin had noticed over the past two days: he himself didn't need to understand a word of what the body was reading. Han Joon-seong's brain did all the work, processing the text, storing the information, forming the neural connections — and Ervin simply reaped the experience. It was exactly like the Korean language. Ervin had never learned a syllable of it, but when Han Joon-seong's eyes scanned Hangul characters on a street sign, the meaning simply appeared in Ervin's mind, translated by the avatar's linguistic centers. The knowledge lived in Han Joon-seong's head, and Ervin could access it when needed without having learned it himself. A very convenient arrangement.
The body's eyes moved steadily across the screen, absorbing news about local politics and market trends. Somewhere in the background, Ervin felt the satisfying notification of Intelligence experience ticking upward.
His mind drifted to his points. 226, earned over two days of solid training. A good haul. He thought about the shop that appeared each night in the apartment. Technically, he had enough for a Characteristic Card and maybe even one of the cheaper fighting styles. The Looks pill had not restocked. It had appeared once, he had bought all three, and it had not returned. That told him something important: some items might be limited. One-time purchases. If that was the case, it would be foolish to spend points carelessly now. Better to save them for when his attributes hit a wall, when grinding alone wasn't enough to push them higher. The XP gains were already slowing as his levels climbed. A year of gym membership would take him far, but after that, he wasn't sure what he would do to keep progressing.
He shrugged internally. He had been in this world for all of five days. He had a lifetime to figure out the rest.
What really nagged at him, lingering at the back of his thoughts like a splinter, was the Character File. Two hundred and fifty points. What was it? A second character? Would it let him possess another person, turn some random stranger into an extension of his will? Would it spawn a new body out of thin air, loyal and obedient? Or would it somehow duplicate Han Joon-seong, giving him two identical avatars to control? There were too many unknowns. And beyond the mystery of the item itself, there was the practical question of whether he could even handle two bodies at once. His mental bandwidth, whatever that meant in his current disembodied state, was not infinite. Splitting his attention might leave both bodies half-controlled and useless. Not worth the risk right now.
So the only purchase that really made sense, at this stage, was the Characteristic Card. A new characteristic. Something that might open doors he didn't even know existed. He would keep enough points in reserve for a Recovery Pill, just in case, injuries could happen, and being laid up for weeks without a backup plan was not an option — but beyond that, there was no pressing need to spend. His job was simple: grind attributes, complete tasks, and let the money regenerate in the background.
He looked again at the task window, at the line that had been sitting there for two days now.
[Settle Differences — Make peace with Han Do-yun.]
"Who the hell is Han Do-yun?" he thought, not for the first time. By now he had more or less concluded that it had something to do with the men he had beaten up in that alley. But he had no idea where any of them were. And returning to that loan shark operation seemed like a bad move, he had been rude the first time, and he had left before the situation could escalate beyond words. Walking back in there voluntarily felt like asking for a beating, or a bullet. The task made him uneasy, and he had no clear path forward.
A soft chime interrupted his thoughts.
[[System]
[Intelligence is being trained...]
[Intelligence has gained experience (6/40)]]
He allowed himself a small, mental grin. "Nice. One more."
No other objectives presented themselves. His money was regenerating on its own, slowly but steadily. Training more today would be counterproductive, his body was still recovering from the morning's session, and pushing too hard would only lead to an injury that would cost him points to fix. Mobile games held no appeal anymore. The immersion he had once found in them, the escape from his dreary life, was gone. How could a game compete when his actual existence had become an MMORPG? The grinding, the stats, the quests, it was all real now! Everything else felt like a pale imitation.
With nothing left to do, he decided to simply walk. Explore the city. See where his feet took him.
Han Joon-seong finished the last of his coffee, bitter to the last drop(and still very cool) and rose from his seat. He approached the counter, where the copper-haired waitress looked up and immediately turned a shade of pink that nearly matched the pastel aprons.
"I'd like to pay," he said.
"Ah — right, yes. That'll be 4,500 won."
He tapped his phone to the card reader, and the transaction beeped its confirmation. He gave her a small nod of thanks and turned to leave.
"Um- wait!"
He stopped and looked back. The waitress had come around the counter. She stood there, hands clasped in front of her, face fully flushed now, eyes darting between his face and the floor.
"Could I… maybe get your number?"
Her voice was small but hopeful, and she looked like she had used every ounce of courage in her body just to ask the question.
Han Joon-seong raised his eyebrows slightly. Then he smiled, a gentle, apologetic smile, the kind that softened the blow before it landed.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm not really interested in that kind of thing." People were a bother, if he started socializing toomuch, it might affect his grind.
Her face fell, just a little, the hope dimming in her eyes. But she managed a small, understanding nod. "Ah. Okay. That's… that's fine."
"Thank you for the coffee. It was very good."
He gave her one last nod and walked out of the café, the bell chiming softly behind him.
Ervin, drifting after him, let out a long, low whistle inside the quiet of his own mind.
"Man, how the tables turn. Less than a week ago I was broke and struggling at a job I hated. Now girls are coming up to me from left and right."
He watched Han Joon-seong walk down the sunlit street, hands in his pockets, that same calm, untouchable composure resting on his features. The city moved around him, oblivious to the strange duality that walked among them, a man who was two men, a player and his avatar, a consciousness and its vessel.
Ervin allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. Then he settled in, ready for whatever came next.
After leaving the café, Han Joon-seong walked without direction, his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. The afternoon sun was warm but not oppressive, and the city moved around him in its steady, indifferent rhythm. Ervin, drifting in his usual spot behind and above, let his attention wander across the urban landscape.
Busan was a strange city, he thought. Clean streets. No graffiti. Police officers walking their beats aroun. The kind of place where you could leave your door unlocked and probably not regret it. A safe city, by any reasonable measure. And yet, three days ago, he had beaten up a group of loan sharks who had been bleeding a university student dry. In a city this well-kept, how did an operation like that exist? Did the police not know? How did the community not talk? Or they simply chose to ignore it...
He let the thought drift away and simply walked.
The center of Busan had a understated charm. He passed an ice cream stand tucked between two clothing boutiques and stopped long enough to buy a cone, plain vanilla, nothing elaborate. He ate it as he walked, the sweetness a pleasant counterpoint to the lingering bitterness of the coffee. He passed a fountain in a small plaza, water arcing in clean white streams against the blue sky. Children ran around its edge while their parents watched from shaded benches. He passed a street performer playing a guitar, the melody soft and unobtrusive. He passed an art installation, a series of colorful metal sculptures that looked vaguely like birds in flight. The hours slipped by in this manner, a slow, aimless drift through the heart of a city he was still learning to know.
Eventually, his feet led him to a small crepe stand tucked under the shade of a large awning. The smell of batter and warm chocolate drifted through the air. He ordered a simple crepe with banana and Nutella, paid the vendor, and sat down at one of the small metal tables arranged nearby. The crepe was warm in his hands. The afternoon light filtered through the awning, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. He took a bite and watched the crowd pass by, a river of strangers moving in both directions.
And then, in the distance, he saw a familiar face.
Lee Hye-jin stood across the plaza, her head turning this way and that, clearly searching for something. Or someone. Her eyes scanned the crowd with the focused, slightly desperate intensity of a person who had been looking for a long time. She hadn't seen him yet. She was too busy turning in circles, rising onto her toes to peer over the heads of passersby, checking her phone, then looking up again.
Ervin raised an eyebrow, or would have, if he'd had a face. "Wait. Isn't that the girl I saved three days ago? What a coincidence."
He considered for a moment. Should he approach her? It seemed appropriate. She was right there, clearly looking for something, and he had nothing better to do.
Han Joon-seong stood up, left the remains of his crepe on the table, and walked toward her. She didn't notice him coming. She was too absorbed in her search, her back to him, her head swiveling left and right.
He stopped just behind her. "Lee Hye-jin?"
She spun around. Her eyes landed on his face, and for a moment she simply froze. Those large, dark eyes went wide, glistening faintly in the afternoon light. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She stared at him, at the sharp jaw, the flawless skin, the calm, sculpted features that looked like they had been carved from marble by an artist with very specific intentions, and the words simply evaporated on her tongue. A flush crept up her cheeks, warm and pink.
Han Joon-seong smiled. He was used to this by now.
"What a coincidence, running into you here. So, how's life been now that you're free of those loan sharks?"
"I- ah- I'm- " She stammered, tripping over syllables, her hands moving in small, nervous gestures. Several different sentences seemed to be trying to escape her mouth at the same time, each one colliding with the next. "I'm- it's- yes, it's good, I'm good, everything is — "
She stopped. Took a breath. Closed her eyes for just a second, steadying herself. When she opened them again, her smile was a little more composed, a little more sure.
"I'm doing much better now. Thanks to you." She looked at him directly, her voice finding its footing. "I wanted to thank you. Really, truly thank you. You saved me. What you did — paying off my debt, helping me escape — I don't know how to repay you. But I'm so, so grateful. My life is so much better now because of what you did."
Ervin, observing from above, found himself studying her as she spoke. She was genuinely pretty, he realized. Not in the sculpted, impossible way that the Looks pills had reshaped Han Joon-seong, but in a more natural sense. Her hair was long and silky, dark and smooth where it fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were big and expressive, the kind that showed every emotion she felt. Her face had a soft, gentle quality to it, round cheeks, a small nose, a mouth that curved easily into a smile. And below that, Ervin's gaze(being disembodied and entirely unaccountable) drifted she had a figure that was hard to overlook. A generous bust. A narrow waist. Wide hips and pair or very beautiful legs, that filled out her jeans snuggly. She was, in short, very easy on the eyes.
"Huh," Ervin thought. "She's actually really pretty. Didn't really notice that last time. I was too busy punching people."
But before he could dwell on the observation, movement in the crowd caught his attention. From his elevated third-person perspective, he saw someone approaching — a figure cutting through the flow of pedestrians like a blade. People were stepping aside, parting to make way, and some were turning their heads to stare. There was a murmur in the crowd, a low hum of surprise and admiration.
Ervin swiveled his view toward the approaching figure. He recognized the face immediately.
"Wait. I've seen this guy before — "
He didn't have time to finish the thought. The man was already behind Han Joon-seong, leg already swinging in a fast, clean arc aimed at the back of his head.
But Ervin had seen him coming. Han Joon-seong ducked, the kick whistling through the empty air where his skull had been a half-second earlier. The motion was smooth, effortless, he didn't even need to look. He straightened up and turned around.
Han Do-yun stood there, his foot lowering back to the ground, his expression caught somewhere between satisfaction and surprise.
Han Joon-seong's face closed. "Another coincidence. But your appearance here isn't quite as welcome."
They faced each other in the middle of the plaza, the crowd instinctively giving them space. Han Do-yun stared at the man in front of him, his mind racing behind his calm exterior.
'Fast. Too fast. I could swear he wasn't this fast when we fought last time. Was he holding back that day?'
Han Joon-seong slid his hands into his pockets. Han Do-yun mirrored the gesture. The air between them grew heavy, charged with tension. Lee Hye-jin stood off to the side, her body tense, her eyes darting between the two men. She didn't know what was about to happen. She only knew that the last time these two had been in the same place, someone had ended up unconscious.
They stared at each other. The silence stretched.
Then Han Do-yun's expression cracked. He pulled his hand from his pocket, and a smile spread across his face — not the cold, predatory smile from the alley, but something easier. Almost warm.
"Alright," he said. "Sorry for the aggressive welcome. Let's be friends, not enemies. Friends, not war."
He extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Han Do-yun."
Up in his disembodied perch, Ervin's eyes widened. "So that's Han Do-yun!"
The intimidating aura Han Joon-seong had been projecting vanished in an instant. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. He looked at Han Do-yun's outstretched hand, then reached out and clasped it firmly.
"Ah. Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Han Do-yun." He offered a small, genuine smile. "My name is Han Joon-seong."