Chapter 37: The Unseen Power Shift

– A Week in the Hospital

Yoo Minseong woke up in his hospital bed to the voices of another patient in his two-person room and that patient’s visitor.

“Is he satisfied with the vlog?”
“Not at all. Everyone’s yelling at him to get up already.”
“Oh, sounds touching.”
“They want him to wake up and show them a beating.”
“Typical. It’s just like those viewers to show a little love, only to snatch it back.”

Being stuck in bed left Yoo Minseong with no choice but to overhear plenty. He learned bits about the two: their roles as streamer and editor,

the casual way they addressed each other as brothers, and that the patient in the hospital gown, with a bright and open look,

was none other than famous physical streamer Lee Haechan.

“But why did you end up in the hospital after taking on the Mute Swordsman challenge?”
“Technically, I was training separately, then got messed up in a car accident with a racing car three times in a row with 65% sync rate.

Totally disoriented after that.”
“Only you would decide training means jaywalking in a racing game, like a lunatic.”
“What’s the view count?”
“One million.”
“Response?”
“Absolute legendary status.”
“Then it’s worth it.”
“Good for me too. We could turn this into a series. Next up: getting hit in Euro Truck Simulator.

Thumbnail could say ‘This time, I got run over by a dump truck.’ How about it?”
“No thanks. I’ll go for a 6×6 truck instead.”

Envious.

While they joked around and dug into chicken they’d brought in,

leaving the bland hospital food untouched, Yoo Minseong’s bedside remained silent. Nobody came to visit him.

An Association-affiliated awakened one. A lone life was neither rare nor unfamiliar for someone like him, often called “the Association’s dog.”

But every now and then, the solitude he became aware of hit him like a wave, eroding the shore of his heart and leaving him feeling hollow.

“Oh, Mr. Yoo Minseong, here, take this.”

Just before leaving the room, a nurse handed him an old disposable flip phone. Barely had he taken it when it began to ring.

“Unknown Caller.”

Though no number was shown, he could guess who it was.

“Are you feeling better?”
“C.O.”
“Did the target attack your mind?”

The target—Hae Eung Eung. The spy dispatched by Chinese public security.

A deadly weapon who could disrupt a scanner’s grade reading and come up with thirty different ways to kill someone in a heartbeat.

The memory, the shock from back then, climbed up his spine, sending a chilling fear over his shoulders.

“I remember nothing.”
“That’s not the answer we want.”

The Association and Hae Eung Eung. Getting entangled in their deadly fight would cost him more than any loss of benefits ever could.

Despite whatever was being said, he prepared to respond, knowing the man on the other end was a cold-blooded figure who wouldn’t flinch at half-truths.

Shaking violently, Yoo Minseong dropped the flip phone, convulsing with foam at his mouth.

“C1. Are you listening? Respond, C1!”

His convincing act was enough to deceive the nurses and doctors, making it appear that he had suffered a severe attack.

Even the ruthless CO couldn’t ignore the doctor’s insistence that he needed absolute rest, and thus,

Yoo Minseong was effectively removed from the mission.

“Tch, at this rate, I might be back before Mute Swordsman.” Haechan muttered, scrolling through his phone.

His gaze drifted to the pale-faced man stumbling back into the room, occupying the other bed in their shared hospital room.

“Are you okay? Should I call a nurse?”

“I’m fine.”

Every response from the man was curt, like speaking to the living dead.

A few days ago, while on the phone, he had suddenly started foaming at the mouth and convulsing,

which had even startled the usually fearless Haechan enough to furiously press the nurse call button.

After such an incident, it was only natural that Haechan couldn’t help but glance at him every time he moved.

“I heard you’re a streamer,” Yoo Minseong said.

“Guess we were a bit noisy, huh?”

Maybe that was why Haechan felt uneasy when Yoo Minseong, the man with an almost corpse-like presence, initiated conversation.

His words, though casual, didn’t feel ordinary.

“That streamer, Mute Swordsman. Is he strong?” Yoo Minseong asked.

“Oh, so you’re a fan of Mute Swordsman?”

“I watch your channel, Nationalistic Inspector Lee Haechan, occasionally.”

“Ha, didn’t mean to push it on you.”

“It’s nothing specific; as an awakened one myself, I’m naturally interested in strong people because of my line of work.”

“Oh. Looking at you, I wouldn’t have guessed. I thought you were a burned-out office worker at first.”

Why was he asking about Mute Swordsman so suspiciously?

Every time Haechan felt the urge to resist these questions,

Yoo Minseong’s timely responses and flow of conversation eased his reluctance, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that his mind was being read.

“He’s a beast, even other physical streamers are awed. Even Speed Master, a top-tier physical streamer, acknowledged his skills. It’s practically unfair.”

“Speed Master. I’ve heard the name, but I’m not familiar. As an awakened one, where does he stand?”

Haechan thought for a moment. Speed Master was among the top ten in terms of skill, a high-ranking streamer,

and even active awakened ones couldn’t match his speed in the virtual world. There weren’t many who could rival him.

“Only the superstars of the top ten guilds, the Three Captains of the Association, or the rumored ghost of the National Security Agency are comparable.”

“The guild’s strategic weapons, the Association’s top forces, and the legend of the National Security Agency… Is he really that powerful?”

“If you don’t watch much streaming, it’s understandable that you don’t know. Words don’t do it justice.

You’d be better off searching for Speed Master’s highlight reel yourself.”

Right then, Yoo Minseong searched for the information.

[Speed Master MAD Compilation (October 2050)]
[Best Timeline Highlights]
[1:11 – Activates a trap but doesn’t fall]
[3:15 – Alone with 5800 speed]
[5:12 – Does this character even have a clone skill?]
[6:20 – 57-hit Nine Dragon Thunder Strike with zero hits missed]
[7:45 – Dodges all attacks between projectiles in an area-of-effect]
[9:37 – One-shot clear while chasing down Mute Swordsman]
[13:50 – Activates another trap but doesn’t fall again]

Just from last month’s gameplay alone, Speed Master managed to produce a solid 15-minute MAD compilation.

Including unlisted plays, there were nearly twenty highlight videos within a month, averaging one MAD video every 1.5 days.

Avoiding traps faster than they activated and taking no fall damage was a given.

His speed was so fast it left afterimages to confuse enemies, even on characters without a clone skill.

In team-based strategy games, he survived with a sliver of health by dodging every area-effect skill’s hitbox and then single-handedly took down the opponents who had exhausted their skills—a display of top-tier physical ability that left a deep impression, even on Yoo Minseong, who hadn’t watched gaming streams before.

“Are you saying a player of this level acknowledged Mute Swordsman?”

“That’s what makes it even more impressive. But things didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not Mute Swordsman, but Speed Master.

Mute Swordsman tends to keep playing until he dies or reaches an ending,

and there was a promise made to continue when he succeeded… except it’s been twenty days, and he hasn’t streamed since.

Speed Master’s been waiting for him to stream again, eager to resume, but still—nothing.”

Haechan wore an exasperated expression, as if he’d seen the most pitiful thing. “I mean, even if the stream’s chaotic, fans are still waiting around.

Isn’t it almost aggravating?”

Unlike a streamer like Haechan, who was hospitalized with severe aftereffects, most streamers see their followers and subscribers drop after just a few days of unexplained inactivity.

Yet Mute Swordsman, a hot topic even while offline, continued to double his follower count since his last broadcast, setting an unprecedented record.

Considering the rate at which Speed Master hoped to play Banyokgok by next year, it was painful for many in the industry to watch this loose-scheduled, monthly streaming style gain such popularity.

“Based on what you’re saying, it sounds like he doesn’t quite match Speed Master.”

“In a normal mode, probably. But Mute Swordsman plays in Real Mode.”

“Real Mode?”

“It means he plays with his actual, real-life physical abilities in the game. Every move, every skill he displays in-game, he can replicate in reality.

People go crazy for it. They just want him back on Earth already.”

Even now, Mute Swordsman’s waiting room had about a thousand fans drifting through virtual space like lost stars.

“With that kind of skill, it seems like he’d naturally be an awakened one, but I heard his name isn’t in the association’s registry.

Don’t you wonder who he actually is?”

Yoo Minseong nearly let slip that he was a deadly spy sent by the Chinese Public Security Bureau but held back.

A week later, after watching all of Ha Eung-eung’s broadcasts,

Yoo Minseong was more convinced than ever that she was at least a B-rank awakened one.

Based on Nationalistic Inspector Lee Haechan’s account, Real Mode meant playing with one’s actual physical abilities.

Ha Eung-eung’s streaming account, Mute Swordsman, showed no in-game buffs from bloodline blessings, skills, or items that could affect combat.

Her abilities were purely a display of superhuman skill. Her extraordinary jumping and combat skills were far beyond anything an ordinary person could replicate.

‘They wouldn’t put me back on a mission as soon as I return, would they?’

Yoo Minseong went to work, tense, but was surprised to find the doors of the Association’s Surveillance C-Team office firmly shut.

What was going on?

Even if the field staff were out, the office workers should be inside, compiling information or issuing orders.

As he grew more anxious, his screen phone suddenly rang.

– “The Surveillance C-Team has been disbanded. You’re no longer required to report to that office.”

“Was this the target’s doing?”

– “That information is classified.

All you need to know is that the Association has decided not to interfere with the one known as ‘Mute Swordsman’ any longer.”

“What happens to me?”

– “C1, your identity might have been exposed to Mute Swordsman.

Your severance will be substantial. Do not return to the Association.”

Click.

The call ended abruptly. In just one week of hospitalization, everything had changed. C2 through C9, as well as the commanding officer CO, were all unreachable.

“Am I really getting laid off just like that?”

Yoo Minseong, team leader of the Association’s Surveillance C-Team, had become an involuntary unemployed man overnight.