If Ian had known that reading a webtoon could literally kill him, he might've done something more meaningful with his life—like touching grass.
But no. He died… while reading the latest chapter of Lookism.
How poetic.
He didn't even get to finish it.
One moment he was in his cramped room, half-eaten ramen by his side and tears in his eyes as daniel is on spotlight now in Incheon arc, and the next—
Boom.
Chest pain. Blurry vision. Darkness.
"...Huh. This isn't a chapter cliffhanger," Ian muttered before he blacked out entirely.
Somewhere. Nowhere. Everything white.
When Ian opened his eyes, he was standing. No bed. No ramen. No phone.
Just white. Endless, overwhelming white. The kind that makes you question if you've entered an iPhone commercial.
Then he heard it.
A voice. Calm, deep, and echoing from everywhere—and nowhere.
"Hello, Ian. Welcome to the Waiting Room of Fate, Death, and Mild Bureaucratic Inconvenience."
"...What?"
A humanoid figure slowly faded into view. Featureless. Just a glowing outline.
"I am what your world might call… ROB."
"Like... the guy from accounting?"
"No. Random Omnipotent Being. It's an acronym. I didn't choose it. HR did."
"Oh."
"You are dead, Ian."
"Well no sh—yeah, figured."
"But! Rejoice. For you are no ordinary mortal. Your soul is... unique. One in a billion. Pure. Resilient. Kind of like a cockroach, but in a divine way."
"I'm flattered. I think?"
"And because of your spiritual rarity, I will grant you five wishes... and let you choose the world you wish to reincarnate into."
Ian's eyes widened. His mouth slowly twisted into a grin.
His brain, despite being technically dead, fired back instantly.
"Send me to Lookism."
"...Seriously?"
"Dead serious."
--
The 5 Wishes of a Man Who Died Reading a Lookism:
Ian raised one finger. "One. I want to be Sangcheol Park—Daniel's father."
"The guy who 'died mysteriously offscreen'?"
"Exactly. He's basically so mysterious. No backstory, no screen time, no personality. And i can work with that, i also want to help daniel park."
"Smart. Continue."
"Two. I want the powers, body, and demon back of Yujiro Hanma from Baki. Yes, including the part where I can flex and make world leaders cry."
"...Overpowered and slightly disturbing. Proceed."
"Three. Strengthen the Park bloodline. I want my descendants to be genetically terrifying—Hanma-tier strength plus genius IQ. Daniel's going to punch through buildings and solve quantum physics."
"So basically... monster children. Noted."
"Four. Unlimited money. I want the world to ask: 'Who owns this island?' and the answer is me."
"How about black cards, off-shore accounts, and crypto wallets that never dip?"
"Perfect."
"Five. A System Store. I can buy anything. From ramen to rocket launchers. Martial arts manuals. Cigarettes. Designer suits. Anything."
"Unlimited stock?"
"Unlimited."
"Your wishes are… absolutely unhinged. But approved."
"When do you want to reincarnate?"
Ian didn't even blink.
"Two years before the main story. Give me time to work out daniel, let's see how he will casually clap gun later, and build a business empire, and smoke dramatically on rooftops."
"Done. Welcome to Lookism."
--
He opened his eyes to a creaky ceiling fan and a cheap apartment stinking of old soju and victory.
He sat up slowly, shirtless, feeling muscles coiled like steel cables under his skin.
He walked to a cracked mirror.
His reflection? Handsome. More than handsome. God-tier jawline, demon back twitching, eyes that screamed "Try me."
He lit a cigarette. The first drag felt divine.
"Ahhh… reincarnation tastes like Marlboro."
He glanced at the corner of his vision.
[ SYSTEM STORE ACTIVATED. ]
He tapped it mentally.
Current Funds: ∞
He scrolled past absurd things:
[Buy: Tony Stark's Suit – $0.02]
[Buy: Goo's Eyeglasses – $0.01]
[Buy: Taekwondo Lv.5]
[Buy: Instant Ramen (Beef) – $0.00]
He smirked. "First things first."
He bought a tracksuit, eye glasses, and a pack of ramen. Gotta go meet his wife and son.
--
Somewhere in Seoul
the air was heavy with silence in a cramped old apartment in Seoul. Paint peeled off the walls, a single fan buzzed overhead, and the lingering smell of cheap ramen and stress filled the room.
Seonhui Park sighed as she folded laundry with the weariness of a woman who had aged more in five years than most do in twenty. Across the room, her son sat quietly—chubby cheeks, fresh bruises under his eyes, and earbuds plugged in as if music could drown out the bullying at school.
Daniel Park had grown used to silence.
He had also grown used to disappointment.
But then—someone knocked on the door.
Three slow, heavy thuds.
Not the panicked knock of a landlord or the suspicious tap of a delivery guy.
No. This was different.
"Did you order something, Mom?" Daniel asked without looking up.
She frowned. "No. Maybe it's that Jehovah's Witness again…"
But when she opened the door—
She froze.
There, standing in the hallway, was a man.
No, not a man. A damn tower.
He wore camo pants, combat boots, goo-like shade on his face and a plain black shirt that strained over a chest built like a slab of granite. Over his broad shoulders rippled an unholy bulge—the shape of a snarling demon, flexing through the shirt like it had a life of its own.
Dog tags glinted in the hall light.
A cigarette hung lazily from his mouth.
And that face…
Sharp jawline. Piercing eyes. A mole under the left eye.
Seonhui's hands trembled.
"...S-Sangcheol?"
He took a long drag and exhaled.
"Hey, honey. I'm home."
Daniel stood up so fast he knocked over his chair.
"Wha—DAD?!"
His voice cracked like a broken YouTube ad.
The man gave a slow nod, that cigarette still dangling from his lips.
"Yeah. It's me. Your old man. Back from the dead. Kinda."
His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he stepped inside, towering over everything, even the ceiling fan—which he promptly turned off by just staring at it with enough authority.
Seonhui covered her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I thought you died… They said you were gone. No calls. No letters—nothing!"
He placed a calloused hand on her shoulder, surprisingly gentle for a man built like a tank.
"I wanted to come home every day. But I couldn't."
--
Flashback
"I wasn't dead," he explained. "I was recruited into special operations—the kind where your name gets erased the moment you're chosen."
Daniel squinted. "Like… CIA? KGB? Men in Black?"
He chuckled. "Let's just say the uniform doesn't come with a logo."
He gestured to the camo pants.
"My missions were global. Classified. Black-ops level stuff. I've seen things, fought things... things so dangerous, even world champion fighters wouldn't babysit them."
Daniel's jaw dropped.
His mom whispered, "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because if I did…" He leaned closer. "You'd both be in danger."
He gave her a kiss on the forehead and handed her a sealed envelope.
Inside: access codes to a bank account so fat it could feed all of Seoul for a year.
--
Sangcheol replaces their entire fridge with a smart kitchen unit from the system store.
Daniel now has more new clothes than problems.
Seonhui nearly faints when she sees this
And Sangcheol? He installs a home gym, lights a cigarette, and casually bench presses their old washing machine for fun.
"This is… too much," Daniel whispered.
"No," Sangcheol said, exhaling smoke like a boss. "This is what you deserve."
---
That night, as the city lights flickered beyond the window, Sangcheol called Daniel outside.
"You ever fight back?"
Daniel frowned. "Against who? My bullies? They'd fold me like laundry."
Sangcheol grinned, cracking his knuckles.
"Good. That means we're starting from scratch. Best kind of student."
He tossed him a pair of gloves. "Let's fix your posture first. Right now you walk like a dropped jelly donut."
"Gee, thanks, Dad."
They spent an hour practicing basic punches. Nothing flashy. No anime moves. Just proper stance, breathing, and control.
Sangcheol corrected him quietly, never yelling. Occasionally roasting him just a little.
"You call that a jab? I've seen baby pandas throw hands better than that."
"You've… seen pandas fight?"
"Son, I've seen pandas drive tanks."
Daniel laughed. And for the first time in a long time—meant it.
---
Later that night, Sangcheol stood alone on the rooftop.
The wind rustled through his shirt, revealing the full demon back beneath it—writhing slightly, as if eager for battle.
He looked at the moon. Lit another cigarette.
"I'm back in the game."
"Got my family."
"Got a second chance."
He exhaled a cloud of smoke and tapped the system store in his mind.
[ITEM UNLOCKED: MILITARY CONTACT - 'REAPER']
[STATUS: Awaiting Call.]
He smirked.
"And I've got a few friends left in the shadows... just in case."
[TO BE CONTINUED]