Chapter 8: It’s just how I usually am

Moss rubbed his forehead, frustration bubbling under the surface.

[“Seriously, I don’t have one.”]

Did this person really think she was that gullible? Why wouldn’t she just admit it?

“Why does my nickname even matter?” she added calmly, as if she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

Moss exhaled sharply. “You don’t get it. No one—**no one**—hangs around in a tight-knit gallery like that for seven years without a nickname. It just doesn’t happen.”

His chat was blowing up.

****

“LOL she’s totally one of us.”

“No way someone lurked for that long without joining in!”

“She’s hiding something, 100%.”

****

Moss stared at the screen, then spoke more deliberately, trying to sound reasonable.

“Look, I just want to know. If you were there the whole time, it’s kinda… weird that you never said anything. And now you know an old nickname I buried years ago?”

There was a brief silence on the line.

[“It’s not really that weird,”] she replied smoothly. [“I just remember things well.”]

Moss narrowed his eyes. Something about her calm tone rubbed him the wrong way, like she wasn’t telling the whole story—or maybe she was just playing with him.

His viewers kept spamming theories:

“Bet she’s a mod or some ancient lurker no one knows.”
“Plot twist: What if she was someone’s alt account?”
“Maybe it’s a ghost from the archives LOL.”

Moss took another drag from his cigarette, trying to think clearly.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered, his mind racing. “If you really don’t have a nickname… how the hell do you know who I am?”

There was a brief pause.

[“Because,”] she said softly, [“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Moss.”]

Moss blinked in disbelief, struggling to comprehend the absurdity of the situation.

“What do you mean, ‘What’s that?’” His voice cracked slightly, irritation creeping in.

[“Literally. I have no idea what game that is.”]

A heavy sigh escaped Moss as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His chat exploded again:

“LMAO WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING”
“DUDE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW THE GAME”
“Bro she’s either trolling or from another dimension.”

Moss shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Why am I even dealing with this?”

[“You were supposed to play it, but you didn’t,”] Han Yurim said, her tone softening just slightly—like someone pointing out a disappointing oversight.

Moss laughed, dry and exhausted. “Lady, listen. I don’t even know what this game is, and you’re acting like I skipped out on a wedding or something.”

There was a pause again—an eerie silence where even the chat seemed to slow down. Then, she spoke with unnerving clarity.

[“That’s the problem. You were supposed to know.”]

Moss froze.

“Wait WHAT.”
“Is she a time traveler or smth?”
“Bro she’s dropping cryptic NPC-level lines ”

Moss could feel the room grow heavier with tension.

His fingers hovered over the mouse, unsure if he should end the call or lean in deeper.

“…What the hell are you talking about?” he asked quietly.

[“You’ll understand soon,”] Han Yurim replied, her voice almost tender. [“Just… don’t ignore it again.”]

Moss’s heart skipped a beat. How the hell did she know that email?

“Wait… how did you get that?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

[“It’s from the registration.”]

“What registration?” Moss’s confusion deepened, his chat now flying faster than ever.

“YO THIS IS GETTING WILD”
“Bruh she knows his old email?!”
“CHECK YOUR SPAM FOLDER, BRO”

[“For <Excel Busters>. You signed up with that email seven years ago.”]

Moss stared at his screen in disbelief, mind racing. That didn’t make any sense.

If he ever did sign up, it was long buried in the recesses of his memory.

“I swear I don’t remember anything about it,” he muttered. “Look, I’ve played tons of games over the years. Maybe it was something I tried once and forgot.”

[“No.”]

Her response was calm, but firm.

[“You never played it.”]

Moss leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. “What do you want from me?”

[“I just need you to remember.”]

His chat exploded again:
“DUDE WHAT IF SHE’S LIKE A GAME DEV OR SMTH?”
“Plot twist: It’s a cursed game.”
“Bro, she’s a fed trying to uncover old crimes ”

Moss exhaled sharply. “Okay, fine. I’ll look it up. Happy?”

There was a brief silence before Han Yurim spoke again, her voice eerily composed.

[“Good. You’ll need it.”]

“Need it for what?” Moss demanded, feeling his skin prickle with unease.

[“To survive.”]

Moss blinked in disbelief, the pieces slowly clicking together.

“You… you’re telling me this is about some random free game you gave out *seven years ago*? And no one reviewed it?”

[“Yes.”]

He stared at the screen, his mind swirling between frustration, confusion, and the absurdity of the situation.

“Wait. So, let me get this straight.” He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “You gave out some game for free, threw in a gift card incentive, and now—seven years later—you’re chasing me down about it?”

[“Not just you. But yes.”]

Moss’s chat erupted.

” WHAT EVEN IS THIS LORE???”
“7 YEARS FOR A REVIEW?? LET IT GO, SIS.”
“This is either dedication or insanity.”

He couldn’t help but laugh—more out of disbelief than amusement. “I seriously don’t remember any of this.”

[“It’s okay,”] Yurim said softly. [“But you downloaded it. That’s a fact.”]

“Why the hell does this matter now?” Moss grumbled.

[“Because.”] There was a pause. [“You’re one of the few people left who *can* play it.”]

A chill crept down his spine.

“What… what do you mean by ‘left’?” he asked cautiously.

The silence on the other end of the call lingered just a second too long.

[“You’ll see soon enough.”]

Moss let out a short, pained groan, as if the weight of long-forgotten guilt had just resurfaced.

His chat began to hum with resonance, a chorus of fragmented memories.

“Wait, I remember that post too .”
“Bro, wasn’t there like a whole thread? I swear at least ten people commented.”
“No way… And no one reviewed it? This is insane if true.”

Moss exhaled, his head spinning. “Seriously, not a *single* person wrote a damn review? We all took it for free?”

[“That’s right,”] Yurim confirmed, her voice calm but laced with a hint of satisfaction. [“Not one.”]

Moss slumped back in his chair, massaging his forehead. “This… This is embarrassing, not gonna lie.”

“WE’RE ALL ACCOMPLICES .”
“Moss, it’s on you to redeem us, bro.”
“The ancient unpaid debt has come to haunt you .”

“Alright, fine.” Moss muttered, pulling himself together. “So, what now? You want me to finally play it? Seven years later?”

[“Yes.”] Yurim’s voice was resolute. [“And stream it.”]

Moss blinked. “…Wait, you want me to play that old game on stream?”

[“Exactly.”]

The chat exploded.

“LMAO, YOU HAVE TO DO IT.”
“7 years in the making. This is your redemption arc, Moss.”
“THE PROPHECY IS REAL.”

“Goddamn it,” Moss muttered, laughing despite himself. “Alright, alright, I’ll do it. But if this game sucks—”

[“It doesn’t.”] Yurim cut him off, a quiet confidence in her voice. [“Trust me.”]

Moss stared at the screen, dumbfounded.

“…Wait. So out of *fourteen* people who took it, you’re telling me *you* were the only one who downloaded it?”

[“Yes! I was the one who downloaded it!”] Yurim’s voice grew slightly sharper, frustration finally seeping through. [“Do you know how painful that is? Watching people take your game just to let it rot?”]

The chat went wild.

“LMAOOO THIS IS PEAK TRAGEDY.”
“The ultimate betrayal .”
“14 freeloaders and *1* sucker—bruh, this hurts.”

Moss tried to suppress a laugh but failed miserably. “Oh man, that’s rough. No wonder you remembered me seven years later.”

[“You have no idea.”]

“BRB crying on her behalf.”
“Moss, you were supposed to be the chosen one .”

“So… wait.” Moss leaned forward, the pieces falling into place. “You’re saying you not only downloaded the game but also played it?”

[“Of course.”] Yurim sounded almost indignant. [“It was my game! I had to make sure it worked!”]

The chat burst into chaotic laughter.

“Bro, Moss scammed the dev for free QA services .”
“Nah this story’s too cursed.”
“Moss didn’t even review her game and now he’s getting called out live on stream. ICONIC.”

Moss sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, Yurim. You win. I’ll stream your game. I’ll even write that goddamn review.”

[“Good.”] Her voice softened just a bit. [“Because I’ve been waiting seven years for it.”]

The chat erupted:

“SHE HIT YOU WITH A SEVEN-YEAR GRUDGE OMG.”
“Moss, YOU OWE THIS QUEEN YOUR SOUL.”
“7 years late, but redemption begins now .”

Moss shook his head, grinning despite himself. “This might be the weirdest favor anyone’s ever asked me to do.”

[“It’s only fair.”] Yurim’s voice was calm again, as if everything had finally come full circle.

Moss groaned, half in disbelief, half in guilt. “Wait, hold up. Out of *fourteen* people, only two of us read the email?”

[“Yep.”] Yurim’s voice was as sharp as a blade. [“And one of those two was you, Mr. *Malrangmappak*.”]

The chat was going ballistic.

“BRO, 2 PEOPLE READ THE EMAIL .”
“Yurim’s got receipts and a grudge—Moss you’re done for.”
“14 freeloaders, and only one loyal idiot .”

Moss pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “Why… why do people even ask for free stuff if they don’t bother using it? Seriously.”

[“Right?!”] Yurim’s exasperation was palpable. [“It’s not that hard to at least *open* the game if you bothered to download it.”]

“LEGIT I can’t breathe—Moss is the only poor soul who opened the cursed download.”
“The fact she kept count all these years is SCARY.”
“A woman never forgets, Moss.”

Moss chuckled dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I get it. I really messed up, huh?”

[“I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s that serious…”] Yurim paused. [“But yeah, it kind of sucked.”]

The chat went wild again.
“A true queen, not angry—just *disappointed*.”
“Moss officially crowned king of letting people down.”

Moss sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll stream it. Hell, I’ll even *speedrun* it if you want.”

Yurim snickered on the other end of the call. [“That sounds fair. And you better write that review, too.”]

The chat exploded with laughter:
“HE REALLY SAID: ANY PERCENT REDEMPTION RUN.”
“7 YEARS IN THE MAKING AND THE DEBT IS FINALLY DUE.”
“At least Moss is owning up to his sins .”

Moss smiled, feeling oddly lighter. “You drive a hard bargain, Yurim. But you know what? You earned it.”

[“I did, didn’t I?”]

Anyway, since Moss had downloaded it, that was good. It made the conversation easier.

“Give it a try. <Excel Busters> is fun.”

[Did you get paid or something? Why are you so eager….]

Moss’s words trailed off. I subtly turned my head to glance at Moss’s broadcast screen.

I could sense his gaze fixed on one spot while we were on the call and he was checking Excel Busters, even though he hadn’t turned on his camera.

[Creator: Han Yurim]

Moss spoke.

[You made the game?]

“It’s my own work.”

“My child is smart, but their grades aren’t showing it. Please trust me and take care of them.”

As Moss read through the game’s description, he slowly began to speak.

[Is this a two-player game?]

“It’s a two-player game, but the basic mode is for one player.”

[It’s recommended for two players, right?]

“…One player mode is fun too.”

It was true. I had paid attention to make sure both solo and two-player modes were available.

[I’m the type who strictly follows the developer’s recommendations.]

“……It’s hard to find someone to play with. Only 12 people downloaded it. If we exclude you, that leaves just 11 people in the world.”

Damn, just 12 people?

There are more games that were given away for free.

If there are two players, it allows for a few more systems to be implemented.

That’s why it was recommended for two-player play, not because it was more fun than solo play or because solo play was subpar.

In reality, *Excel Busters* could be viewed as two different games for one-player and two-player modes.

From the outset, the stories experienced in single-player and multiplayer were entirely different.

“Why don’t you just play with Yurim? Oh, since you’re the game creator, you probably already know all the fun parts?”

At Moss’s words, I paused.

Was that a solution?

Typically, playing a self-created story game wouldn’t be as enjoyable, but my situation was different.

“Let’s do that.”

[Are you sure? I see the tags indicate that this game is story-driven and has elements of deduction?]

At Moss’s concern, I confidently replied,

“I tend to forget things quickly.”

The neon light filtered through the curtains, casting an eerie glow in the room.

The heavy, somber air filled the space.

Having dedicated half of his life to gaming, Moss was accustomed to this atmosphere.

Cyberpunk, in particular, was a genre he was eager to explore in games.

Moss approached the window and gazed down at the street, deep in thought.

‘Is this a privileged background?’

The quality was impressive. It was hard to believe that only the name “Han Yurim” was attached to it.

This game had clearly required a significant investment. It would have taken several programmers and graphic designers to create something of this caliber.

However, the thought crossed his mind: if she was that wealthy, why not do a large-scale promotion?

He quickly dismissed it.

Everyone has their own circumstances. It was possible that she had just enough money to create the game but not enough for marketing.

If that were the case, Han Yurim must be feeling quite disheartened right now, having invested so much into a game that only 12 people had played.

Beep.

The wearable device on his wrist buzzed.

A hologram projected from the device.

[Test Date: 7 PM. Location: Abandoned Factory in Zone 8.]

The sparse description was enough for Moss to quickly grasp the situation.

He was likely an aspiring fixer. This test would determine if he was worth anything.

He’d find out once he got there.

Moss activated the map and headed toward the marked location.

“Have I arrived?”

At the abandoned factory, a man awaited, carrying a long katana on his back.

He wore a bored expression as he asked,

“I’ll tell you now; if you’re useless, I’ll dispose of you immediately.”

“Understood.”

“Follow me.”

Following the man, Moss got into the car.

As the conversation continued, he gleaned some background information about his character. As expected, this was a test for a resolver.

“What martial arts do you practice?”

As the question was asked, the game momentarily paused.

[Please choose your desired weapon.]

Icons of various weapons, such as swords, spears, and fists, appeared before Moss.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he chose the sword.

Swoosh— the icons split and expanded.

Wait… Moss paused for a moment. There were a staggering 108 options.

It seemed he would choose a weapon, then utilize the martial arts that derived from it.

True to his usual personality, Moss would have compared every martial art and selected the one that suited him best.

But he wasn’t alone this time.

He picked a suitable option from the five recommendations and resumed the game.

The test location was a logistics warehouse.

Moss drew his sword and charged forward.

The system guide instructed Moss on the swordsmanship techniques.

As he precisely followed the movements, one guard fell to the ground in an instant.

Moss continued the battle.

The system guide introduced a slightly more challenging maneuver this time.

The difficulty was considerable, but Moss executed it with ease.

Immediately afterward, his sword traced the shape of a flower petal.

Having defeated all the guards, Moss let out a quiet gasp of admiration.

*Excel Busters* was a game that maximized the intricate motion controls typical of VR games.

The techniques executed varied based on the movements made, giving the impression of using real martial arts.

“It’s impressive to call this your own work,” Moss thought, nodding as the message indicating the end of the tutorial appeared before him.

Having passed the test as a resolver, Moss moved to the designated location to meet the broker.

The broker turned out to be a tax accountant.

The resolver, closely tied to illegal activities, often had connections to tax evasion as well. So, having a tax accountant as the broker might be a fitting choice.

Moss muttered softly, “So where did Han Yurim go?”

“Are they really working together?” he wondered, chuckling to himself. “Did she just bail out after lying? She even turned off the voice chat.”

“Surely not.”

“How is it? Do you like it?”

He approached the broker to continue the story, but then he paused, startled by the whisper that tickled his ear.

When did they get so close? I didn’t even notice.

Moss stood still, then moved his lips slowly.

“Is that you, Han Yurim?”

“It’s definitely good quality.”

Is it about the game?

“No, not that. I’m talking about the broker.”

It’s already the second time I haven’t understood this person’s words, even though we just met today.

What on earth is he talking about?

“Didn’t you read the text?”

“What text?”

“That broker is a tax accountant.”

“I know that.”

“So, you’re the inspiration for Malangmabbak.”

He whispered as if revealing a big secret, but I doubted if it made any sense.

No matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

As Moss made a strange expression, Han Yurim continued to explain, as if providing further clarification.

“Malangmabbak is a tax accountant, right?”

“…….”

After hearing that, Moss definitely acknowledged that Han Yurim had been lurking in the gaming gallery for over seven years.

In a friendship gallery, the occupation of a fellow gallery member was practically public knowledge.

“I only know one tax accountant, and that’s Malangmabbak. So I naturally used you as a reference.”

Was it true that Han Yurim and he knew each other? It was a philosophical question.

This one-sided collaboration was somewhat surprising, but Moss calmly asked what he was curious about.

“What aspects of me are your inspiration? I haven’t even spoken to that NPC yet, but they seem very different from my personality.”

“You have a high forehead. It’s designed for you, Malangmabbak.”

Let’s not talk about that.

Moss let out a sigh inwardly and opened his mouth to resolve his initial question.

“But why are you whispering? Are you talking about something important?”

“I’ve set up the AI algorithm quite intricately. If it hears something unknown in front of it, it might get angry, you know?”

“Did you go that far?”

“How long are you going to keep talking in front of people? Aren’t you going to work?”

At that moment, the intermediary shouted.

With a look that seemed to say “See?” Han Yurim stepped forward.

Only then did Moss let out a hollow laugh at Han Yurim’s modeling.

“Why does the design look like Thierry?”

“Isn’t that a copyright issue?”