The body in my arms was extremely small. At ten years old, Seo Hojin was small and baby-faced enough that people often mistook him for being two or three years younger. His warm body heat seeped into me wherever we touched. His eyes, so large they seemed to take up half his face, turned to look at me. Exactly as I remembered ten-year-old Seo Hojin. But right now, Seo Hojin should be twenty-three. About the same size as me, even. Which meant... this was most likely some system trickery. As I stared at him, frozen stiff, the kid shifted awkwardly and wiggled his fingers. In my lowered gaze, the young Seo Hojin let out a deep sigh as if resigned. I carefully set him down so his feet could touch the floor properly, then knelt and grabbed his shoulders. The one wearing the mask of young Seo Hojin lightly brushed my hands away. Even though I found it suspicious, the words wouldn’t come easily. While I was still trying to choose how to say it, he spoke first. “I’m the guide here.” “This is your subconscious. So I’ve taken on the form most deeply etched into your memories.” “...You’re the Seo Hojin in my memory?” I looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “...Think whatever makes you comfortable.” He added, “Like you’d believe me just because I said it,” and then casually began to walk away. I quickly followed him and asked, “Why that ten-year-old form, though?” “Because that’s when your guilt and sense of responsibility were at their deepest.” “...Isn’t this a little too eloquent for a ten-year-old? Seo Hojin wasn’t .” The one claiming to be Seo Hojin didn’t respond. He just picked up the pace. I kept right behind him and asked again, “Then why’d you run away?” “...I didn’t plan to guide you face-to-face . I only meant to help from afar.” “Why? You said you were the guide.” “If you saw me directly, I figured it might shock you.” The first thought that hit me when I saw his face had been, “Did something bad happen to my brother?” All those negative possibilities. Even now, that feeling hadn’t fully gone away. My head was a mess. Glancing at my expression, he turned his head away with a pout. “I get what you’re worrying about, but nothing’s wrong with the real Seo Hojin. So you can relax your face.” This guy really was a projection from my subconscious. If he wasn’t, there’s no way stupid Seo Hojin would be able to read me . “Just trust me and follow. I’ll help you get out of here alive.” I stared at him in silence, then squished his cheek. That warm, soft texture unique to children pressed into my fingers. And then I gave it a loooong pull. He smacked my hand with weak little slaps. I let go, slightly disappointed that I couldn’t squish him more. “What are you saying?!” The way his brows flared upward—it was exactly how Seo Hojin used to squawk when he was little. He glared at me, then turned sharply and headed up the stairs. “I don’t get why you even came here.” “I’m talking about how you just handed yourself over to Min Jiheon. What if he tricked you?” So this subconscious guide of mine seemed to have access to all my memories. When we reached the top of the stairs, I saw people working inside the overlapping buildings through the glass. “I didn’t trust Min Jiheon.” Seo Hojin, a step ahead of me, turned around. I simply didn’t have a choice. I thought I was about to die—of course I grabbed the rotten rope that was thrown to me. ‘Though that wasn’t the only reason.’ If I wanted clues about my physical condition or the missing pieces of my memory, Min Jiheon was the most promising lead. When he said things like, “Unknown forces are tightly tangled up in this, and that’s why all of this happened,” I figured there was truth to it. That’s why I didn’t fight back. But I had no intention of spilling all those complex, roundabout reasons to this kid. Not when he looked just like “Seo Hojin.” “...Hmm. Maybe this form wasn’t the best choice after all. Too many restrictions.” Yet he sighed heavily like he already knew everything and shook his head. Then he waved his hand. The buildings around us surged like waves and began returning to their original positions. A steady rhythmic vibration rang out. Even as he caused this unbelievable phenomenon, he puffed his cheeks and turned to meet my eyes directly. “Anyway, you can’t stay here for long. Can’t you hear that sound?” “The pounding, like a heartbeat.” As he snapped his fingers, cracks spidered across the wall, and the ceiling split apart and opened wide. A dry, biting wind brushed against my cheek. The ground beneath us bulged and rose violently. Worried he might fall, I quickly grabbed his tiny hand. The little guy widened his eyes, then smiled faintly. “That sound you’ve been hearing—that really is your heartbeat.” We rose up, up into the sky. He raised his free hand and pointed. Floating there was a massive, steadily pulsing, blood-red heart. I’d really seen everything now. The gigantic lump of raw flesh—about the size of two trucks—throbbed weakly. “It’s still beating, but the longer you stay here, the slower it’ll get. We need to get you out.” With another snap of his fingers, the platform slowly descended. It lowered us safely onto a rooftop before the building restored itself. I followed him as he opened the door and headed downstairs. “...The heartbeat is really faint.” “You know why, don’t you? You have an idea.” So it was because I didn’t follow the system’s orders. I remembered all those wild error messages that flashed right before I entered this subconscious world. They were all glitching out, but I’m pretty sure they had to do with failed quests or loan penalties. “Yeah, well. That whole Shining Star thing didn’t help either. The penalties and successful quests collided, and it caused a massive error. And most of all...” “You were suspected.” [Character ‘Sung Jiwon’ is beginning to suspect the player.] Hearing him list it out like that made everything painfully obvious. ‘I really did mess with the system, huh.’ Everything I did had gone completely off-script. “Keeping your world intact takes a lot of power. But since you created so many errors, all that power had to be diverted to fix things—and the strain landed squarely on you. That’s why you’re in pain.” All that just from a few missteps? This system was too fragile. I was already running calculations in my head: Should I keep defying it, or play along to exploit it better? “...Min Jiheon said I needed to find whatever was being suppressed.” “That damn bastard...” “Did you just swear?” In his little form, Seo Hojin turned his head with perfect shamelessness. I almost smacked him on the head but decided instead to just squeeze his hand a little tighter. He led me toward a path growing increasingly crowded. “Where are you off to in such a rush, PD-nim?” People I recognized from work started greeting me. None of them seemed to even notice the kid next to me, let alone be curious. “Why isn’t anyone talking to you?” “Because they can’t see me. The Seo Hojin in your subconscious isn’t visible to the people at the station.” “Because you didn’t want anyone at the company to know about me.” The corner of my mouth twitched. In the station lobby, a giant LED screen I’d never seen before had been installed. After flickering with static, the screen began playing a video. It opened on kids dancing. Then it cut to me behind the camera, arms crossed and brow furrowed. My signature expression whenever something didn’t meet my standards. The scene changed again. This time, I was in the smoking area, cigarette in my mouth, as a man handed me a shopping bag. [Yes, haha... This is a holiday gift... I was hoping you could look after our trainee.] Without a word, I dumped the bag upside down. Bills rained to the floor, fluttering across the space. [What do you think you’re doing?!] [You said it was a holiday gift. I was curious.] I calmly refolded the bag and pressed it back into the man’s hand. [Please take this back.] [Do you think you’ll get away with this?!] [Of course. I always have.] It had really happened. Being a PD meant constantly getting pressured to promote someone or bump up screen time. No matter how firmly I pushed back—and despite the widespread rumors that I was immune to bribery—people still tried. The little guy watching beside me narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Not surprising, but... you’ve got a hell of a personality.” Even if he was a construct of my subconscious, watching this was still embarrassing. Then the screen lit up again—with a system window only I could see until now. [Some memories have been unlocked.] [Hello, I’m Song Jion. Please take care of me!] ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel✦fire.net A face appeared—late teens, maybe. A low-ranking trainee, Song Jion. She was with a small agency, couldn’t perform well, but was still crushed under immense pressure. [PD-nim, I really... what do I do?] She didn’t cry aloud, just let the tears fall silently. Even though I hadn’t done anything for her, there were rumors that I’d taken bribes from her agency. [Why are you still with that company?] Regardless of her skills, the situation was pitiful. It seemed more strategic to give her the “evil edit” and make her a target for public sympathy. [...Yeah. I don’t even know anymore.] Her lowered gaze was heavy with sadness. [Just take a breather and think it over again.] Back then, even while pretending to offer kind advice, I was doing mental math the entire time. Calculating what outcome would benefit both her and me the most. —Though she wasn’t the only trainee like that. “Well, that was fun, I guess.” I turned to the side. “Why are you showing me this? Feels like a waste of time.” He uncrossed his arms and replied, “Because this was the turning point.” As soon as he spoke, the footage changed. He looked up and locked eyes with me. “This is probably where everything went wrong.” A chill crawled up my spine. On screen, I was rifling through a cigarette pack in front of the smoking area. A sharp voice rang out. Already on edge from everything else, I ran a hand through my hair, a twisted smile on my face as I turned toward the voice. The camera slowly panned. [Oh, look who it is.] The day before I landed in this world— [What brings you here?] —the 4th place trainee from the survival program. The one who had cursed me to hell.