After weeks of rehabilitation, I find myself clutching the discharge papers, walking the hospital hallway with Hyon Hee by my side. Her worried eyes scrutinize my every move, and her fussing reaches new heights.
"Noona, I've been through all the tests. I'm fine, really. Stop worrying so much," I reassure her, a smile on my face.
"I can't help it. It's been weeks, and I still can't believe you're finally getting discharged," she sighs, her concern palpable.
We step out of the hospital into the cool breeze. A taxi awaits us, and as we slide into the back seat, Hyon Hee can't contain her excitement. "While you were in a coma, I got some good news too," she shares.
Curiosity piqued, I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."
With a beaming smile, she reveals, "I landed a job at a newspaper firm. And guess what? I have my own column now!"
Impressed, I offer my congratulations. "Noona, that's amazing! What's your column about?"
"It's a lifestyle column. I get to share my thoughts on various aspects of life, culture, and everything in between," she proudly announces.
"That's fantastic. I always knew you had a way with words," I commend her, genuinely impressed.
Blushing, Hyon Hee responds, "Stop it, you're making me blush. But seriously, having you back and hearing your compliments makes this even more special."
With a smile, I express, "Well, you deserve it. I'm proud of you, Noona. Now, let's head home and celebrate your success."
As the taxi pulls up to our home, I can see the warm glow of the lights inside. We step out, and waiting for us at the doorway are our adopted parents, Dad, Hyon Dae-Hyun, and Mom, Hyon Hyun-Jung. They both wear smiles that could light up the room.
"Welcome home," Dad says, pulling me into a tight hug. Mom follows suit, her embrace filled with a motherly warmth.
"Thank you," I respond, feeling the sense of belonging that home always brings. We move inside, and Dad gestures towards the dining table where a feast awaits.
"Sit down, sit down. We've prepared a little something to celebrate your return," Mom says, ushering me to a chair. The table is adorned with an array of dishes, a feast fit for a celebration. There are fried foods galore, the kind that I've always loved to devour.
Dad chuckles, "We know you missed these. Enjoy, you've earned it."
As we all gather around the table, the atmosphere is filled with laughter and the clinking of utensils. The scent of the familiar, comforting dishes fills the air, and I can't help but feel grateful for the warmth of my family and the homecoming feast before me.
As I sit at the lunch table, spooning rice into my mouth, I can't shake the feeling of being rattled to my core. Despite the internal turmoil, I make a conscious effort not to let it show on my face. Everyone is engrossed in their meal, unaware of the storm within me.
I glance at Dad, his strong build and seemingly unremarkable face hold a quiet charisma, a natural good-natured attitude that reminds me of Kim Suho. The comparison flits through my mind as I observe Dad's presence at the table, his subtle influence over the family.
Then there's Mom, undeniably pretty in a way I wish I had inherited (but obviously couldn’t because I am adopted). A sigh escapes me, a mixture of admiration and self-reflection. I watch her, wondering about the intricacies of the family dynamics that have shaped me and my place in this home.
"So, this is my family, huh?" I muse silently, the thought lingering in the air as we continue the shared ritual of lunch, the clinking of utensils providing a soundtrack to the tableau of familial interactions.
The festivities in my honor, celebrating my miraculous recovery, are in full swing. Yet, as I mingle with the happy faces around me, I can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. A gnawing suspicion takes root, and I begin to question the authenticity of the love and joy that envelops this alternate reality. After the feast, I retreat to my room and open my laptop, seeking solace in the familiar.
In the quiet confines of my room, I grapple with the weight of a secret that I've concealed from my parents. They see me as their perfect child, living in a seemingly flawless family. Little do they know, the truth I hide within me is a stark contrast to the facade of happiness that surrounds us. My reality shattered when I was unexpectedly run over by Truck-kun and found myself transmigrated into another world. A world that I grew to love so deeply that the memories of my past life, my parents, and my sister faded away. It sickens me how easily I could forget them, as if my mind has been tampered with.
Sigh… It appears the issue of my tampered memory is more grievous than I imagine.
Memories flood back in a cascade of logical correction from the gaps in my memories. I recall my parents' expectations and their belief in my intelligence and capabilities.
But, in the cruel twist of transmigration, I realize the truth: their words weren't demands; they were expressions of pride and admiration. In this altered reality, I'm an Honor Student, part of a blissfully happy family, living a seemingly perfect life. The stark contrast between my memories from the two timelines nauseates me. My memories have been manipulated, and my perspective twisted.
The very fabric of my existence is a carefully woven illusion, and the truth of my past life is nothing but a distant, distorted memory. I am such a nobody… I don’t even know myself anymore.
I sit at my desk, fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard as I fiddle with my laptop. The device is sluggish and in desperate need of an upgrade (for this time and age, it is fast, but not to my standards). I reach into my pocket and pull out the Miracle Stone, a mystical gem with untold powers. Channeling its magic, I begin the process of modding my laptop. No precision tools in sight, but with the aid of the stone and my control, I should manage just fine.
Spotting my smartphone in the cabinet, I grab it. The device is battered, covered in cracks, but thankfully, it's still functional. Plugging it into my laptop, I open Bluestacks and launch my novel reader. The familiar interface lights up the screen. With a few taps, I start downloading all the chapters of "The Novel's Extra" Into my PC.
Using the power of the Miracle Stone, I complete the transformation of my laptop’s hardware.
As progress bars fill the screen, I delve deeper. I trace the servers hosting the novel. A virtual labyrinth unfolds before me. I hack into the servers, navigating through layers of data. My goal: information about Jee Gab Song, the very same author of The Novel’s Extra. It takes time, but finally, I grasp the data I desire.
Armed with the IP Address of Jee Gab Song, I sit back, surveying my digital conquest. The night has claimed the skies outside my window. Determined, I set my sights on the next step—tracking Jee Gab Song's physical address. Glancing at the clock, I realize the lateness of the hour. Tomorrow, under the cover of a new day, I'll pursue this elusive target.
And I did.
The morning air is crisp as I stand in front of Jee Gab Song's apartment. I decide to use my teleportation ability to get here, materializing right outside his door. Wearing a hoodie to conceal my identity, I take a deep breath before knocking. The sound echoes in the quiet corridor, and I sense a presence on the other side.
"Who is it?" a voice from inside asks.
"The electric bill," I respond with a lie, trying to sound casual.
The door creaks open slowly, and as it does, my eyes widen. It's not Jee Gab Song who stands before me; it's Kim Hajin, a close friend from the 666th timeline. The shock hits me to the core.
"Why is it you!?" he exclaims, his eyes reflecting the same surprise and confusion as mine.
"I should be the one asking you that, bastard!" I growl, seizing Kim Hajin's throat and forcefully shoving him inside. Leaning over him, I attempt to make him lose balance.
"How are you here!?" he demands, retaliating by grabbing my wrists and executing a swift aikido throw. I find myself airborne, momentarily losing control.
"You are surprisingly capable, huh?" I remark as I land on both legs, maintaining a straight back and flexible limbs. With precision, I strike with my left hand in an attempt to discombobulate him.
"Too slow," Kim Hajin retorts, releasing my wrist and effortlessly swiping my right hand, which was holding onto his neck. He gracefully backs off, leaving me off balance, and I drop onto my back.
I rise from the floor, my anger boiling over. "Damn it, Kim Hajin! What the hell is going on? Are you really God? Are you the source of Outcall? Did you orchestrate the world's demise into 666 timelines?" My questions spill out, fueled by frustration and confusion. The air in the room crackles with tension.
Kim Hajin's eyes narrow, and he scoffs in response. "Hyon Hyung," he dangerously calls my name, his tone sending shivers down my spine. There's a sinister undertone to his presence. I can't help but feel a surge of murderous thoughts, the weight of the unknown pressing down on me.
But then, unexpectedly, he continues, his demeanor shifting. "Shin Jonghak. That's my real name," he reveals. "We have a lot to talk about." The revelation hangs in the air, and I choke on my spit, stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
Announcement New schedule, I am going to make it certain I will follow this. I will mass release every monday and thursday. I will release 4 to 6 chapters every monday and thursday with a four hour interval. That's all. Today, I have finished 5 chapters.
After weeks of rehabilitation, I find myself clutching the discharge papers, walking the hospital hallway with Hyon Hee by my side. Her worried eyes scrutinize my every move, and her fussing reaches new heights.
"Noona, I've been through all the tests. I'm fine, really. Stop worrying so much," I reassure her, a smile on my face.
"I can't help it. It's been weeks, and I still can't believe you're finally getting discharged," she sighs, her concern palpable.
We step out of the hospital into the cool breeze. A taxi awaits us, and as we slide into the back seat, Hyon Hee can't contain her excitement. "While you were in a coma, I got some good news too," she shares.
Curiosity piqued, I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."
With a beaming smile, she reveals, "I landed a job at a newspaper firm. And guess what? I have my own column now!"
Impressed, I offer my congratulations. "Noona, that's amazing! What's your column about?"
"It's a lifestyle column. I get to share my thoughts on various aspects of life, culture, and everything in between," she proudly announces.
"That's fantastic. I always knew you had a way with words," I commend her, genuinely impressed.
Blushing, Hyon Hee responds, "Stop it, you're making me blush. But seriously, having you back and hearing your compliments makes this even more special."
With a smile, I express, "Well, you deserve it. I'm proud of you, Noona. Now, let's head home and celebrate your success."
As the taxi pulls up to our home, I can see the warm glow of the lights inside. We step out, and waiting for us at the doorway are our adopted parents, Dad, Hyon Dae-Hyun, and Mom, Hyon Hyun-Jung. They both wear smiles that could light up the room.
"Welcome home," Dad says, pulling me into a tight hug. Mom follows suit, her embrace filled with a motherly warmth.
"Thank you," I respond, feeling the sense of belonging that home always brings. We move inside, and Dad gestures towards the dining table where a feast awaits.
"Sit down, sit down. We've prepared a little something to celebrate your return," Mom says, ushering me to a chair. The table is adorned with an array of dishes, a feast fit for a celebration. There are fried foods galore, the kind that I've always loved to devour.
Dad chuckles, "We know you missed these. Enjoy, you've earned it."
As we all gather around the table, the atmosphere is filled with laughter and the clinking of utensils. The scent of the familiar, comforting dishes fills the air, and I can't help but feel grateful for the warmth of my family and the homecoming feast before me.
As I sit at the lunch table, spooning rice into my mouth, I can't shake the feeling of being rattled to my core. Despite the internal turmoil, I make a conscious effort not to let it show on my face. Everyone is engrossed in their meal, unaware of the storm within me.
I glance at Dad, his strong build and seemingly unremarkable face hold a quiet charisma, a natural good-natured attitude that reminds me of Kim Suho. The comparison flits through my mind as I observe Dad's presence at the table, his subtle influence over the family.
Then there's Mom, undeniably pretty in a way I wish I had inherited (but obviously couldn’t because I am adopted). A sigh escapes me, a mixture of admiration and self-reflection. I watch her, wondering about the intricacies of the family dynamics that have shaped me and my place in this home.
"So, this is my family, huh?" I muse silently, the thought lingering in the air as we continue the shared ritual of lunch, the clinking of utensils providing a soundtrack to the tableau of familial interactions.
The festivities in my honor, celebrating my miraculous recovery, are in full swing. Yet, as I mingle with the happy faces around me, I can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. A gnawing suspicion takes root, and I begin to question the authenticity of the love and joy that envelops this alternate reality. After the feast, I retreat to my room and open my laptop, seeking solace in the familiar.
In the quiet confines of my room, I grapple with the weight of a secret that I've concealed from my parents. They see me as their perfect child, living in a seemingly flawless family. Little do they know, the truth I hide within me is a stark contrast to the facade of happiness that surrounds us. My reality shattered when I was unexpectedly run over by Truck-kun and found myself transmigrated into another world. A world that I grew to love so deeply that the memories of my past life, my parents, and my sister faded away. It sickens me how easily I could forget them, as if my mind has been tampered with.
Sigh… It appears the issue of my tampered memory is more grievous than I imagine.
Memories flood back in a cascade of logical correction from the gaps in my memories. I recall my parents' expectations and their belief in my intelligence and capabilities.
But, in the cruel twist of transmigration, I realize the truth: their words weren't demands; they were expressions of pride and admiration. In this altered reality, I'm an Honor Student, part of a blissfully happy family, living a seemingly perfect life. The stark contrast between my memories from the two timelines nauseates me. My memories have been manipulated, and my perspective twisted.
The very fabric of my existence is a carefully woven illusion, and the truth of my past life is nothing but a distant, distorted memory. I am such a nobody… I don’t even know myself anymore.
I sit at my desk, fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard as I fiddle with my laptop. The device is sluggish and in desperate need of an upgrade (for this time and age, it is fast, but not to my standards). I reach into my pocket and pull out the Miracle Stone, a mystical gem with untold powers. Channeling its magic, I begin the process of modding my laptop. No precision tools in sight, but with the aid of the stone and my control, I should manage just fine.
Spotting my smartphone in the cabinet, I grab it. The device is battered, covered in cracks, but thankfully, it's still functional. Plugging it into my laptop, I open Bluestacks and launch my novel reader. The familiar interface lights up the screen. With a few taps, I start downloading all the chapters of "The Novel's Extra" Into my PC.
Using the power of the Miracle Stone, I complete the transformation of my laptop’s hardware.
As progress bars fill the screen, I delve deeper. I trace the servers hosting the novel. A virtual labyrinth unfolds before me. I hack into the servers, navigating through layers of data. My goal: information about Jee Gab Song, the very same author of The Novel’s Extra. It takes time, but finally, I grasp the data I desire.
Armed with the IP Address of Jee Gab Song, I sit back, surveying my digital conquest. The night has claimed the skies outside my window. Determined, I set my sights on the next step—tracking Jee Gab Song's physical address. Glancing at the clock, I realize the lateness of the hour. Tomorrow, under the cover of a new day, I'll pursue this elusive target.
And I did.
The morning air is crisp as I stand in front of Jee Gab Song's apartment. I decide to use my teleportation ability to get here, materializing right outside his door. Wearing a hoodie to conceal my identity, I take a deep breath before knocking. The sound echoes in the quiet corridor, and I sense a presence on the other side.
"Who is it?" a voice from inside asks.
"The electric bill," I respond with a lie, trying to sound casual.
The door creaks open slowly, and as it does, my eyes widen. It's not Jee Gab Song who stands before me; it's Kim Hajin, a close friend from the 666th timeline. The shock hits me to the core.
"Why is it you!?" he exclaims, his eyes reflecting the same surprise and confusion as mine.
"I should be the one asking you that, bastard!" I growl, seizing Kim Hajin's throat and forcefully shoving him inside. Leaning over him, I attempt to make him lose balance.
"How are you here!?" he demands, retaliating by grabbing my wrists and executing a swift aikido throw. I find myself airborne, momentarily losing control.
"You are surprisingly capable, huh?" I remark as I land on both legs, maintaining a straight back and flexible limbs. With precision, I strike with my left hand in an attempt to discombobulate him.
"Too slow," Kim Hajin retorts, releasing my wrist and effortlessly swiping my right hand, which was holding onto his neck. He gracefully backs off, leaving me off balance, and I drop onto my back.
I rise from the floor, my anger boiling over. "Damn it, Kim Hajin! What the hell is going on? Are you really God? Are you the source of Outcall? Did you orchestrate the world's demise into 666 timelines?" My questions spill out, fueled by frustration and confusion. The air in the room crackles with tension.
Kim Hajin's eyes narrow, and he scoffs in response. "Hyon Hyung," he dangerously calls my name, his tone sending shivers down my spine. There's a sinister undertone to his presence. I can't help but feel a surge of murderous thoughts, the weight of the unknown pressing down on me.
But then, unexpectedly, he continues, his demeanor shifting. "Shin Jonghak. That's my real name," he reveals. "We have a lot to talk about." The revelation hangs in the air, and I choke on my spit, stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
Announcement New schedule, I am going to make it certain I will follow this. I will mass release every monday and thursday. I will release 4 to 6 chapters every monday and thursday with a four hour interval. That's all. Today, I have finished 5 chapters.