My studio apartment fell into another world. My room is now a “Shelter,” and I am the “Shelter NPC.” The catch? I can’t step a single foot out of this tiny, cramped, five-pyeong room.
The only things I can rely on are a “Guidebook for Shelter Owners in a Disaster World” and a system window.
As the owner of the shelter, I serve meals to my guests:
“…Is it too spicy?” “No. It’s fine… cough, wheeze.” “…If the Fire Chicken Noodles are too much, should I make you some Jjapaghetti?“
I provide a place for my guests to sleep:
“…Is it too cramped?” “You expect me to sleep in a place like this?” “…If you don’t like it, sleep on the floor.“
I only intended to provide them with the information they needed to stop the disasters, but now my visitors are becoming obsessed with me.
There’s Theo, the mercenary leader trying to stop the “Final Storm” that threatens to swallow the Empire. Istar, the sickly and prickly Emperor who nevertheless cherishes his people. And even Sion, the survivor of the 29th Island—the very man who brought the calamity upon the Empire.
Look, I don’t need your obsession. Just go save the world from the disaster, please!
