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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Continue... Shall We?
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"Kah~ Ptoo!"
He spat on the street. Who knew how long it had been since he'd done that. Spitting on the sidewalk... it was filthy.
It was revolting. He had to spit just to endure it. Han Ibi trembled with rage.
Was starting late some kind of 'crime'? Five years as a night-shift convenience store clerk... all that time wasted chasing a dream of becoming a web novel author.
Eventually, he'd given up everything. He never had even a speck of talent anyway...
The world was merciless to latecomers. He'd barely landed a sales job at a mid-sized company.
No matter how hard he worked, all he got was painful discrimination compared to those 'public recruitment hires'.
Miserable pay. Promotions always pushed to the back burner.
He'd spent a year as a part-timer, two as a contract worker. But now even that was about to be taken away.
They wanted him to leave and come back through a 'temp agency'. The gall of that smug team leader, bragging about achievements built on his blood and sweat, his greasy face flashing in his mind.
That son of a bitch worse than a dog!
But what infuriated him more was that he'd already signed the 'illegal' contract converting him to temp status.
What the hell was the point of scraping by...
He wanted to drown himself in booze and pass out... but he didn't even have friends for that.
While others lived normal lives, Han Ibi had become a complete loner.
His only hobby was reading fantasy novels... Wait... huh?
'Was there always a comic shop like that?'
The goshiwon where Han Ibi lived was a crumbling five-story building in a dingy corner of the entertainment district.
No elevator in sight, of course.
Yet just 200 or 300 meters away, a comic shop sign caught his eye.
Tucked in the basement of a store selling rundown secondhand junk, naturally...
'Why hadn't I noticed it before?'
Black background with tacky white font screaming 'Comic Shop' in three letters, evoking the 80s.
But what drew his attention was the handwritten A4 papers plastered above it.
- Store closing. Selling off displayed comics/novels cheap.
Like he was possessed, Han Ibi descended the basement stairs.
Flickering fluorescent lights amplified the dread, like entering some 'demon's dungeon'.
He stepped down the despairing concrete stairs one by one, arriving at a weathered wooden side door.
Faded yellow posters and rotten door corners greeted him.
Hesitating for a moment, Han Ibi pushed the door open anyway.
Screeech~.
An unpleasant hinge squeak.
The musty smell of old paper unique to comic shops assaulted his nose.
Beep... beeeep beep... beeeep beep....
Even the busted automatic doorbell sounded eerie. But that wasn't what made Han Ibi jump.
A mummy...!
Behind the counter sat what looked like a mummy... no, an emaciated old man, skin and bones.
This wasn't a museum... no way a mummy in downtown.
Still, considering himself somewhat cultured, Han Ibi started to bow politely but stopped. The old man was dozing off, head nodding.
No customers despite closing time. Maybe he'd already quit the business...
Since he was there, Han Ibi decided to browse and headed inside.
Racks of comics, wuxia novels, fantasy, gangster stories—mostly that.
Even some shady 19+ stuff caught his eye.
True to the vibe, no new releases in sight, even if you scrubbed your eyes raw.
Then, in the corner shelf's top row, tied with string and rolled sideways, he spotted a wuxia novel.
Han Ibi's eyes went wide.
- By Han Mu-wan
A very familiar name.
Without thinking, he grabbed the book. Dust scattered like sleet in the air.
"That won't do..."
A rusty voice like leaking wind.
Startled, Han Ibi whipped around. The old man at the counter was awake.
"Pardon? Me...?"
"Yes."
"What do you mean, won't do...?"
"You're not buying?"
"Huh?"
"That book."
"Oh!"
Only then did Han Ibi notice the wuxia novel in his hand.
"Ah... yes. I mean... I want to buy it."
"That's why it won't do."
Staring into the old man's hollow, somehow sorrowful eyes, Han Ibi asked.
"Why not?"
"It's my grandson's keepsake. He went missing studying abroad in China. No owner left, just that bag in his rented room with those books inside. Ah! It's been so long, but the regret kept me from throwing them out till now."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Han Ibi trudged up the goshiwon stairs. Cheap materials made his footsteps thunder like lightning.
'What wind blew me to do this... why the hell...'
He glanced at his right hand. Under the string, his index and middle fingers were looped through.
And dangling below: a single volume.
- Dream of the Ant Snake
It was that wuxia novel the old man said was hard to sell. Han Ibi replayed the scene.
"Sir. This is a book my father wrote. His last novel before he passed. No manuscript left, I even tracked down the publisher but they'd gone bust. Please, sell it to me."
The old man's narrow eyes widened slightly. Han Ibi added,
"If you don't believe me, I can get a family registry..."
"No need."
"Sir, please reconsider. It's easy nowadays with the internet..."
"Just take it."
"Pardon?"
"Better in your hands."
The comic shop owner said no more.
Feeling awkward, Han Ibi hesitated but took the novel home.
The old man wouldn't take a dime.
'What do I even need this for...'
His father, memories fading now. No need for this... He chuckled wryly.
'Dream of the Ant Snake. Title that'd never sell. At least heroes, clans, swordsmen, jianghu, wulin—Shaolin or Wudang even. Something to make you pick it up.'
A failed web novel aspirant knew that much basics.
Back in his room, Han Ibi tossed the wuxia novel on the desk.
Habitually, he carefully hung his wrinkled cheap suit on the hanger.
In a cramped goshiwon, you had to mind everything.
In just square briefs, he stretched toward the bed under the bookshelf. Planning a quick nap.
But something made him pull out his phone.
Ring ring—the signal tone pierced his ear.
- Oh! Ibi?
"Yeah..."
- Everything okay?
"Yes, Mom. What would be wrong?"
Of course.
Except getting booted from his hard-earned job to temp status...
Mother's voice again.
- Good. In these tough times, having a steady job is something. Kim's boy from the rice cake shop, that age and still loafing at home...
"Mom."
- Hm?
"How's your health?"
- I'm fine, don't worry.
She wasn't.
Her listless voice said it all.
Grueling work at the corner store, diabetes from a decade ago.
The vibrant, pretty mom in his memories was turning into a grandma.
Surrounded by popping-up convenience stores, barely scraping by...
But she couldn't quit. It was all she'd ever done...
"Mom."
- Yes?
"I... found it."
- Found what?
"Dad's... book."
Mother's voice froze solid.
- What?
"The last one he wrote. I searched everywhere before and couldn't find it. Spotted it by chance at a comic shop closing soon, brought it home."
- .....
"Mom? You there?"
- ...Ibi.
"Yes."
- You don't want to talk Dad... too much...
"...Yes, Mom. Let's drop it."
Awkward silence followed.
Time to end the call.
"Alright, Mom. Hanging up."
- Okay, Ibi. Got work tomorrow, rest up. Bye now, sleep well.
"You too."
- Yes. Okay.
Click.
Now... really time to sleep.
But sleep wouldn't come. Maybe grab some beers? Damn, budget's blown this month.
As he sighed soundlessly, work woes cluttered his mind again.
What came over him?
Suddenly bolting up, Han Ibi yanked a rusty cutter from his makeshift pen holder—PET bottle cut open—and snipped the tacky yellow string.
He flipped through the volume. Faded yellowed pages spoke of time passed.
Entertainment... none.
At least here.
Worthless. Damn it. Father... worthless.
Pity the publisher that put this out. No wonder they folded.
Yet Han Ibi read on and on. Seeking traces of his father? He didn't know why.
He kept reading.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
How much time passed? The cheap desk clock pointed to 4 AM.
The boring wuxia novel neared its end.
"Of course..."
Han Ibi muttered. He'd taken the whole week off anyway.
After this mess, not taking leave would make him spineless, earning curses.
Finally, the last page of volume 4 appeared.
But surprisingly... it wasn't over. The bold "(Continued)" after the final line nagged him.
Bold text never seen before.
Not just one volume?
Then the "(Continued)" seemed to shake wildly.
What... the hell?
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Continue...?]
A woman's voice.
Eek! What... what the?
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Continue...?]
As if hypnotized, Han Ibi mumbled unwittingly.
"Yes... continue... continue..."
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Understood.]
All the room's lights went out.
No—the whole world did...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ ⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [New player has connected.]
A young man said,
"Did you... see that just now?"
The old man replied,
"Yes."
"What is the system thinking...? I thought new connections were long over."
The old man chuckled mockingly.
"What does it matter? More prey is good. Devour at the right time."
"Heh heh heh. It's been ages... Shall we let the kids loose?"
"No. Let it fatten up. Question if it can, though. We can find it anytime, so chill."
"Yes, sir."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Pitch black... utterly pitch black...
Fallen into a black hole...?
No sound either. Perfect silence and isolation—no sight, no sound!
Did I... die? Goshiwon loner death?
As fear and shame assaulted him fiercely!
Flash!
Vision lit up instantly, like the blackout's reverse. Pupils stabbed by sunlight.
'Ugh!'
Instinctively, Han Ibi squeezed his eyes shut. But now... the smell. Fishy stench... intense fishy reek...
Han Ibi pinched his nose in panic. A horrifying texture. Fishy smell, warm temperature. Sticky sensation!
Realization dawned. Han Ibi's eyes snapped open.
'Aaaah!'
(To be continued)