1.
Yoo Min-seong woke up in his hospital bed, stirred by the conversation between his roommate and a visitor.
“Did your vlog cheer people up?”
“Not even close. Everyone’s pestering to get back on my feet already.”
“Aw, that’s kind of touching.”
“Yeah, but they want up so they can watch get beaten up again.”
“Figures. Classic, right? They dangle sentintality and snatch it away just like that.”
When confined to a bed, one can’t help but pick up on details. For instance:
The two were strear and editor.
The patient was a well-known physical strear nad Lee Hae-chan, and the visitor was his younger brother-like editor.
“But seriously, how does chasing The Silent Swordsman land soone in the hospital with aftereffects?”
“Well, technically, it was training after that. When I hit 65% sync rate, got hit by three racing cars in a row, and blacked out.”
“Only you would think jaywalking in a racing ga is a valid training thod.”
“How’s the view count?”
“One million.”
“Reactions?”
“Absolutely legendary.”
“Good enough for .”
“Hey, works for too. Let’s make it a series: next up, getting hit by a truck in Euro Truck Simulator. Thumbnail: This ti, a dump truck! How’s that?”
“Shut up. I’ll aim for a 60-ton truck.”
Yoo Min-seong lay quietly, listening to the boisterous pair devour fried chicken instead of bland hospital food. His side of the room, by contrast, was desolate.
No one visited him.
As an Awakener working for the Association—a so-called "dog of the Association"—living alone wasn’t unusual. But every now and then, the crushing loneliness hit him like a wave, leaving his ntal shores eroded and empty.
“By the way, Yoo Min-seong, this is for you,” the nurse said, handing him an outdated flip phone.
The mont he took it, the phone buzzed with a call.
Restricted number.
He knew who it was.
“Have you recovered your senses?”
“…C0.”
“Did the target launch a psychic attack on you?”
The target: Hae Eung-eung.
The supposed Chinese spy capable of disrupting scanner readings and envisioning thirty ways to kill in re seconds. The mory alone sent shivers racing down his spine.
“I don’t rember anything.”
“That’s not the answer we want.”
The Association. Hae Eung-eung.
Getting further entangled in their battle would only lead to bloodshed.
He tried to formulate a response, one that might shield him:
No matter what you say, my answer won’t change. I saw nothing.
But he knew his cold-blooded superior wouldn’t be swayed.
The phone slipped from his trembling hands as he began to convulse. Foam bubbled at his mouth as he perford an Oscar-worthy seizure, fooling even the nurses and doctors who rushed in.
Despite C0’s persistence, the doctor’s firm order for “absolute rest” saved Yoo Min-seong from further involvent.
2.
“Tsk, at this rate, I’ll recover before The Silent Swordsman does,” Lee Hae-chan muttered, scrolling through his phone.
His eyes flicked to the pale, staggering figure entering their shared room—Yoo Min-seong.
“You okay? Need to call a nurse?”
“I’m fine.”
The curt response didn’t surprise Hae-chan. After all, this was the sa guy who had a seizure mid-phone call just days earlier. Even Hae-chan, known for his fearless attitude, had panicked and slamd the nurse call button repeatedly.
Still, every ti the man moved around, Hae-chan found himself glancing at him.
“Are you the strear?”
“Sorry if we were noisy.”
Despite Yoo Min-seong’s casual tone, Hae-chan felt uneasy. It was as if a corpse had spoken. Even small talk carried an uncanny weight.
“How strong is The Silent Swordsman as a strear?”
“Oh, you’re a fan?”
“I’ve watched Nationalistic Prosecutor Lee Hae-chan’s channel as well.”
“Hah, wasn’t fishing for complints there.”
“It’s not that. I’m an Awakener myself, so I tend to be drawn to strong individuals.”
“Whoa, wouldn’t have guessed that. You look more like an overworked office worker.”
The exchange flowed smoothly, yet Hae-chan couldn’t shake the feeling that his thoughts were being read.
“Even the top physical strears are in awe of The Silent Swordsman.”
“Really? Like who?”
“Speedmaster. One of the industry’s best.”
Speedmaster, a na Yoo Min-seong had heard but never paid much attention to.
“In Awakener terms, how would you rank them?”
Hae-chan considered it. Speedmaster was a top-tier strear, undefeated in speed challenges—even against Awakeners.
“Comparable to superstars of Korea’s top ten guilds, the Association’s elite trio, or the ghostly legends of the National Security Agency.”
“So, guild strategists, the Association’s best, and mythical governnt operatives. That’s the level we’re talking about?”
“Yup. Words don’t do justice, though. Just search for Speedmaster’s mad clips. You’ll see.”
Yoo Min-seong did just that, imdiately pulling up videos.
The feats were extraordinary:
Trap activated, but avoided it solo.
Speed: 5800.
Shadow movent despite no clone skills.
57-strike barrage dodged flawlessly.
Watching even a fraction of the footage made one thing clear—Speedmaster’s abilities were unparalleled.
“And this Speedmaster recognized The Silent Swordsman?”
“Exactly. But even Speedmaster couldn’t keep up.”
“What do you an?”
“Well, The Silent Swordsman hasn’t stread in over 20 days. Speedmaster had big plans to tackle hidden quests but can’t do much if there’s no stream to watch. It’s frustrating!”
Hae-chan shook his head, half annoyed and half impressed.
“For a strear to go AWOL without losing subscribers is unheard of. Heck, their followers have doubled since their last stream!”
“Doesn’t seem all that impressive compared to Speedmaster,” Yoo Min-seong comnted.
“That’s because you don’t know about real mode.”
“Real mode?”
“Everything they do in-ga, they can do in real life. No buffs, no cheats—just raw skill.”
Yoo Min-seong’s gut churned.
He suppressed the truth:
She’s a Chinese spy and a deadly weapon.
3.
A week later, after watching all of The Silent Swordsman’s streams, Yoo Min-seong was more certain than ever:
She was at least a B-rank Awakener.
Her feats in real mode—superhuman combat, impossible leaps—left no doubt.
‘I doubt they’ll send back out imdiately after all this.’
Still, he braced himself as he entered the Association’s office. To his shock, the surveillance team’s headquarters was sealed shut.
His phone buzzed.
“The surveillance team has been disbanded. You no longer need to report in.”
“Was it because of the target?”
“That’s classified. All you need to know is that the Association has decided not to engage with code na The Silent Swordsman.”
“What about ?”
“C1, your identity may have been compromised. We’ll provide severance pay, but do not return to the Association.”
Click.
The line went dead, leaving Yoo Min-seong stunned.
In a single week, the entire surveillance team—C0 through C9—had vanished without a trace.
“This is how I lose my job?”
Yoo Min-seong, once the leader of the Association’s Surveillance Team C, found himself involuntarily unemployed.
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