WPRAF 19

Chapter 19

President Choi Gyu-seong eventually stopped the car in front of the safe house.

Just then, Jung So-mi happened to be stepping out through the main gate.

Dressed in workout clothes, she spotted me among the unfamiliar faces occupying the front yard and moved her lips slightly.

‘Who are you?’

I was about to answer “an uninvited guest,” when a clearly annoyed Sun Woo-jin suddenly threw open the car door and stepped out.

“Oh? Huh?”

Recognizing him immediately—she had a sharp eye—Jung So-mi’s mouth fell open.

“Show them inside.”

“Ah? Y-yes, please follow me.”

“Hey, wait! I’m coming too!”

Choi Kyung glanced back and forth between me and Woo-jin before scurrying after him.

“Haah… this is crazy. Anyway, thank you for driving, President Choi. Please get home safe.”

I let out a deep sigh and was about to see him off, when to my surprise, he also got out of the driver’s seat.

Then he even opened the trunk and pulled out a huge suitcase.

“What’s that suitcase for?”

“What do you think? It’s my stuff.”

“I understand that Woo-jin and Kyung don’t have a place to stay, but why did you bring luggage too?”

“Because I’m part of the advance team.”

“…What?!”

“Although ‘advance team’ doesn’t sound like the best name, does it?”

“Ha……”

Feeling a throbbing headache coming on, I walked through the yard to the front door—where suddenly, a cheer loud enough for a concert hall burst out from inside.

“Oh?! Sun Woo-jin! And Choi Kyung too?!”

Of course, the one cheering was Hwang Hye-joo, their most devoted fan.

“Unbelievable.”

Woo-jin, Kyung, and even Colonel Choi Gyu-seong.

I decided to let the three of them stay at the safe house for now.

Whether or not we’d actually form an “advance team” was still undecided.

There were things I wanted to ask President Choi to do under that pretext, and I also needed to hear from Hwang Hye-joo and Jung So-mi.

‘Although… I think I already know what those two think.’

“Really? You mean we could be on the same team as Mr. Sun Woo-jin and Ms. Choi Kyung?”

Hwang Hye-joo had already made up her mind.

“Yeah, it’s an order from the top. We’ll have to follow it.”

“What can we do? Orders are orders.”

Even Jung So-mi, who was on the government payroll, seemed to have made her decision.

She still acted cautious around me, though.

So now, I was the only one left to decide.

“What about you, Chief Han? Everyone else here seems to want in.”

“To be honest…”

Gathered in the freshly cleaned living room with the others, including our three new arrivals, I finally spoke my mind.

“I was planning to act as the advance team. Actually, I suppose I already have been—after all, I was the first to take down both the Ogre and the Goblin Assault Commander.”

“Now that you mention it, you’re right. Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just… this feels too national-level. I wanted to keep it simple, just us, maybe with some help from President Choi.”

That was when Woo-jin and Kyung suddenly jumped in.

Honestly, the two of them were the biggest obstacles.

“Isn’t that even better? You don’t realize it, Han—but these two are no joke. Ah, or are you worried you won’t mesh well? You’ve always refused assigned teammates because you say you can’t sync with them.”

“A few fights and we’ll match up fine. My concern isn’t something trivial like that.”

I stood and looked squarely at Woo-jin and Kyung, who were sitting side by side on the sofa, waiting for my answer.

“You two have used your influence as public figures to spread a positive impact since all this started. You’ll probably keep doing that. That’s why I didn’t want you getting dragged into something dangerous and dying needlessly.”

I meant it.

Whatever debt Earth’s Creator owed was far beyond my comprehension.

I couldn’t do it alone.

‘But if players like Woo-jin and Kyung joined forces… maybe it could work.’

That’s why I’d been harsh with them.

Perhaps they could sense my sincerity now—Woo-jin, a bit calmer than before, finally spoke.

“But…”

“I’m not done. The strategy you’ve been thinking of—this isn’t like cooperating with other players under a defensive army’s protection. It’s a whole different level.”

“We’ve got you, Chief Han.”

“I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Uh, my name’s not Woo-jin, it’s—”

“When I set a goal, I have to achieve it. I’m nothing like the ‘safety-first’ type. I threw that idea out the window ages ago.”

Then President Choi interjected.

“I’ve watched him for over ten years, and yeah, he’s reckless and dangerously bold. I honestly thought Chief Han was just numb to danger! Hahaha… ha…”

His awkward laugh failed to lighten the mood.

I shot him a glare, then turned back to Woo-jin and Kyung.

“That’s why I’m going to test you—to see if your values match mine, and to gauge your survival instincts and combat ability. If you pass, I’ll allow you to join me.”

Woo-jin agreed to the test, while Kyung reluctantly followed.

I didn’t waste time. We went straight into the field test.

Just the four of us—me, the two candidates, and President Choi—formed a party and headed for the Goyang City Gate.

Since Jung So-mi and Hwang Hye-joo had just reached Level 3, this was their first time trying the party system. It turned out to have several useful functions.

• Shared EXP and coin distribution from monsters killed by any party member.

• Shared item drop rate increases.

• Contribution points earned when a party member defeats a boss-type monster.

Those contribution points could supposedly be used in the [Shop]—though, oddly, no items purchasable with them appeared yet.

Maybe it unlocked later, or required higher levels or another system update.

…That was Woo-jin’s analysis.

‘He really is knowledgeable.’

That much was undeniable.

‘Even if they fall short of my standards, maybe it’s still worth bringing them along.’

Lost in thought, I looked up to see the streets completely deserted—the car speeding along an empty road.

Up ahead, a military Retona jeep stood blocking the way.

Unlike Seoul, Goyang City’s gate hadn’t yet been sealed off by walls, so army units were acting as a human barrier.

They’d set up tight patrol zones—3km “No Entry” and 5km “Restricted Entry” rings around the gate—so you couldn’t go anywhere without running into them.

Last time, we’d sneaked in quietly. Today was different.

No need to hide—our driver was a colonel, after all.

“This area is restricted. Please turn back.”

“Ah, you’re doing a great job.”

President Choi handed his ID to the soldier manning the striped barricade.

“Chuuuung-seong!”

The soldier, stripes on his sleeve showing the rank of sergeant, bellowed a thunderous “Loyalty!” that echoed down the empty road.

“Hey, keep it down. The monsters might hear you.”

“Ah! Sorry, sir!”

“Still, good spirit. Keep it up.”

President Choi added a few words of encouragement and waited for the barricade to be lifted.

But the soldier didn’t move an inch.

When asked why, he replied,

“Sir, were you… planning to go in?”

“Why else do you think we’re here?”

“Are all four of you players, sir? Orders from my CO say to restrict entry to non-players.”

“We’re all players. Now move that thing.”

“Uh… sorry, but may I see your player licenses?”

“Unbelievable…”

President Choi sighed in exasperation—but inwardly, he almost looked relieved.

I agreed with him, honestly.

It was thanks to diligent soldiers like this that the rest of the citizens could sleep in peace…

“Sir, what about the man in the passenger seat?”

My silent admiration didn’t last long—the soldier was now peering suspiciously at me through the open window.

“He’s not refusing—he just doesn’t have one. He’s a civilian, not Defense Force.”

“Even so, city hall issues them to all players. You didn’t apply for one?”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

I vaguely remembered hearing that.

To enter restricted or quarantine zones, you had to have a player license issued by the government.

But there was no way the military could monitor every boundary, and if you really wanted, you could just sneak in.

Besides, getting that license sounded like a bureaucratic nightmare—so I’d put it off.

“Hmm…”

Who’d have thought a four-stripe sergeant would be the one to hold us up?

President Choi’s patience finally thinned, and he addressed the soldier sharply.

“Sergeant Park.”

“Sergeant Park Ji-hoon!”

“Where’s your commanding officer?”

“He stepped away to use the restroom, sir.”

“Click… fine. Then get your CO on the line.”

Only after our diligent sergeant had his superior confirm our authorization did he open the barricade.

“Ha… this is ridiculous.”

“They say being a colonel makes army life easier, but you couldn’t even get past a sergeant. What gives?”

“Hey, a veteran sergeant outranks everyone. He must’ve been close to discharge.”

Laughter erupted from the back seat.

Despite this being a test, both Kyung and Woo-jin seemed surprisingly relaxed.

Confidence, perhaps.

“So, Chief Han—regardless of whether they pass or fail, you’re still planning to form an advance team, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s a condition.”

At the word “condition,” President Choi’s brow furrowed, like Pavlov’s dog.

Ignoring it, I brought up the business idea I’d been considering.

There was a skill that could assign value to other players’ skills—an appraisal ability.

“Sounds great.”

Suddenly, President Choi was enthusiastic again.

He said it had lots of potential.

They could find players with high-value skills, focus resources on developing them, even draw reclusive players back outside under the pretext of ‘skill evaluation.’

And with that data, we could build a player database to—

“No.”

I cut him off.

“Those skill records will serve another purpose. Don’t touch them.”

“Touch them? We haven’t even started yet. You wound me.”

He pouted dramatically, but I knew he was just disappointed.

To him, any discovery from me was a career-making achievement—a stepping stone to promotion.

“By the way, have you ever seen a trait like mine before?”

“Not that I know of. You two?”

“No. What about you?”

Choi confirmed Kyung’s headshake through the rearview mirror.

“I’ve seen players who can rank classes, but not skills. You might be the first.”

“There are players like that?”

“They’re called [Scouters]. Ex-headhunters or sports agents tend to awaken into that class. Seems like your job, experience, and personality really affect the class you get. Anyway, if we market it right, we could attract a lot of players…”

“The real issue is how to recruit them.”

“We’ll do it under the Samyang Trading name—with a PR agency’s help.”

Unlike Seogil Trading, Samyang was a domestic front company.

I thought it was defunct—but apparently not.

“If we use Samyang, we’ll have to report it to HQ.”

“Hey, drop the formality, will you? You always switch to casual speech the moment I relax.”

“Guess you should be used to it by now. Anyway, let’s just handle it ourselves.”

“You got money for that? Advertising, recruitment, venue rental—it all costs.”

Money… yeah, about that.

I’d spent everything on the house I bought—and then got kicked out when the quarantine zone expanded.

So no, I didn’t have a dime.

I was staring gloomily out the window when—

“Um… maybe we can help.”

Woo-jin, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke.

“It’s an MCN—basically a streamer and influencer agency. If you’re trying to gather players, using our channels would be much more effective. We can even rent you a venue.”

“That’s possible?”

Kyung answered for him.

“He’s the CEO of that MCN.”

“MCN Hae & Bi.”

Named after his surname “Sun,” Woo-jin’s company was apparently a major agency with dozens of well-known creators, streamers, and influencers.

Combined, their subscribers and followers easily surpassed one hundred million.

Granted, there were probably overlaps and international fans, but still—

“In this era, people spend more time on computers than TVs, and check the internet more than the news.”

So, I decided to take Woo-jin up on his offer.

Still, a deal was a deal—the test had to happen first.

As soon as we entered the restricted zone, we spotted goblin soldiers and elites wandering the road.

Four soldiers and one elite.

A manageable number for the two of them.

“Begin.”

At my command, the two nodded, then ducked behind an abandoned van to strategize.

‘President Choi couldn’t praise them enough.’

He said they were among the top five players he’d ever met.

But I only trusted what I saw with my own eyes.

That’s probably why he hadn’t argued about me testing them personally.

‘We’ll see if they’re really as good as the rumors—or just overhyped amateurs.’

After a moment, the two finished their plan and stepped out from behind the van.

And then—

“…?!”

Kyung suddenly crouched into a sprinter’s stance.

“Give me a buff.”

Bathed in Woo-jin’s buffing light, her body glowed white.

“I’ll be right back.”

She vanished.

Or rather—

Bang!

She shot forward like a bullet, the air bursting behind her.

I couldn’t even follow her movement with my eyes.

In a blink, she was among the goblins, her fists slamming into their weak points.

Her movements were like a storm.

It was hard to believe she was only level eight.

Each time her fist connected, a goblin’s face caved in or its shoulder twisted grotesquely out of place.

“That’s her character—‘Breeze.’”

Woo-jin’s voice came from beside me.

When I glanced at him questioningly, he explained:

“She’s channeling a character. From the VR fighting game Kingdom of Night.”

One of the game’s signature fighters—nicknamed “Breeze the Gale.”

“Fits her perfectly. Can she fight like that indefinitely?”

“The possession lasts five minutes. Cooldown is one hour. Powerful, but the penalty’s severe. Still, when I buff her, all physical attributes increase by 1.5 times.”

“The possession time?”

“No.”

Woo-jin paused, locking eyes with me.

The look said it all—Are you convinced yet?

“So what exactly increases by 1.5 times?”

He grinned confidently and replied:

“Everything.”