Han Joon-seong sprinted out of the room the moment the executive hit the ground. Auto Pilot guided him through the corridors and out toward the exit.
While he left, Ervin had detached from Han Joon-seong again. He was somewhere else inside the department store, flying about as fast as he could, trying to find any sign of Lee Hye-jin. Room after room, corridor after corridor — he couldn't find her anywhere.
Seeing she wasn't in the building anymore, his Intuition spoke for him.
'She left! Probably already caught a bus and went home.'
Ervin let out a breath of relief.
"Thank god. She got out safely."
He was pulled back to Han Joon-seong's body just as he reached the entrance of the department store. Han Joon-seong burst out into the street, still running — but he was a mess.
He was shirtless, his torso covered in bruises with a thin line of blood still tracing the cut across his chest. His face was swollen, his lip split, one tooth slightly loose from the kick to his chin. His back was purple and black from the elbow strike. His legs ached from the running and the hits he had taken. His right arm hung slightly limp, the shoulder joint stressed from the force of his own punch. His foot was bleeding where the knife had almost sliced through his toe.
He looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life. Because he had.
People on the street stared at him as he ran past. But it wasn't the usual admiration. There was no awe in their eyes. Instead, there was fear. Unease. Some of them averted their gaze entirely, pretending not to see him. Others whispered to each other, stepping out of his way. A few even crossed the street to avoid him.
Ervin observed it all with a bitter scoff.
"What a difference. When I was handsome, they all stared with admiration. Now that I'm all beaten up, they treat me like I don't exist."
He clicked his imaginary tongue.
"Hypocrites."
He directed Han Joon-seong to keep running, weaving through side streets and alleys in a zigzag pattern. He wanted to make sure the executive couldn't follow him. He turned left, then right, then doubled back, then turned again — a chaotic route designed to lose any pursuer.
Only when he was certain he had put enough distance between them did he slow down. His Vigor bar was nearly empty. It had been dangerously low for a while now, but now it was truly on the verge of collapsing.
'I can't let it hit zero,' Ervin thought. 'If I collapse here, she might still find me. I need to stay standing.'
He slowed to a walk.
Slowly, as he walked, the attacks he received finally settled in his body, and the damage from the fight was catching up to him. His right foot began to drag against the ground — he didn't have the strength to lift it properly anymore. His arm ached, the shoulder throbbing with every step. He held it with his other hand, trying to relieve some of the pressure.
He limped through the streets, drawing more stares. People watched him from a distance, eyes wide with a mix of pity and fear. No one bothered him, but no one was offering help either.
He reached a bus stop — far from the department store, somewhere that woman wouldn't think to look for. He sat down on the bench, and the people already waiting there shifted away from him. He was breathing heavily now, the pain finally registering fully.
Ervin clicked his tongue in frustration. He could feel the feedback from the body — every ache, every bruise, every torn muscle. It was overwhelming. He didn't feel pain, of course, but the losses were too great this time round; it was disheartening.
He didn't bother looking at the people around him. He was too tired. But he noticed them from the corner of his vision — the way they avoided his gaze, the way they pretended he wasn't there.
The bus arrived. He climbed on, paid the fare with his phone, and found a seat near the back. No one sat next to him. He watched the city pass by through the window, the streets growing more familiar as he approached his neighborhood.
When he finally got off, he walked the last few blocks to his apartment. He didn't bother showering or checking his wounds. He went straight to the bed, lay down, and let unconsciousness take him.
---
The system interface flickered to life.
[Day Finished, awarded points [361 Points]]
[[System]
Player: Ervin Mandor
Character 1; Han Joon‑seong
[Characteristics:
Adaptation(Perfect)
Talent(Perfect)
Auto Pilot(Perfect)
Money(Perfect|Middle‑class)
Intuition (Lvl. 1)
Looks(Lvl. 5)
Speed(Lvl. 4)(13/80)
Strength (Lvl. 6)(0/320)
Endurance (Lvl. 5)(60/160)
Vigor (Lvl. 5)(25/160)
Intelligence (Lvl. 3)(24/40)
[Tasks:
None]]
The store materialized beside it.
[[Showing Store]
[Strengthening pills:
Looks — [SOLD OUT]
Speed
Strength
Endurance
Vigor
Intelligence
Cost: 30 points each
Description: Strengthening Pills Level up a Characteristic by 1 when consumed]
[Weakening Pills:
Speed
Strength
Endurance
Vigor
Intelligence
Cost: 20 Points each
Description: Weakening Pills Decrease a Characteristic by 1 for 24h when consumed]
[Fight Styles:
Street Dog Fighting Style - 150 Points
Kickboxing Fight Style - 150 Points
Boxing Fight Style - 150 Points
Karate Fight Style - 150 points
Muay Thai Fight Style - 150 Points
Taekwondo Fight Style - 150 Points
[...]]
[Misc:
Character File - 250 points.
Recovery Pill - 100
Characteristic Card - 200]
---
Ervin looked at the store and immediately thought of one thing: a Recovery Pill.
He purchased it without hesitation — 100 points gone — and fed it to Han Joon-seong's sleeping body. The healing began. But it was slow. The damage from today's fight was extensive — the broken blood vessels, the bruised ribs, the swollen joints, the displaced tooth. The Recovery Pill was working, just not immediately. It seemed like it would take hours for the body to fully recover.
Ervin observed the process, a flicker of concern crossing his mind.
'Maybe these pills aren't as miraculous as I thought they were.'
He let out an imaginary sigh and turned his attention back to the store. He had 261 points left now. He had to decide what to spend them on.
He considered the Strengthening Pills — but dismissed them immediately. He still wanted to grind attributes naturally. Using pills now would only make training harder later, increasing the XP requirements for each level. He needed to save them for when his attributes were already high, or for emergencies like today — moments when he needed a sudden boost to survive. Today had proven that.
He looked at the Fighting Styles section.
"Should I buy one of these now?"
He considered his options. The Character File was still off the table — too many unknowns. He didn't know what it would do, and he couldn't risk wasting points on something he didn't understand. That was a purchase for later, when he had more points or more information.
But a Fighting Style... that was different. Today's fight had proven that he needed skill. That executive hadn't just been stronger and faster — she had been better. She had technique, precision, experience. She moved like someone who had trained for years. Actually, she just may have. Han Joon-seong, for all his attributes, was still a brawler. He threw punches and hoped for the best. Adaptation helped, and he half concluded it could be used to mimic fighting styles to a certain extent, but nothing comparable to actual skill and experience.
If he wanted to fight people at that level, he needed to learn how to fight properly.
He looked at the list again:
[Fight Styles:
Street Dog Fighting Style - 150 Points
Kickboxing Fight Style - 150 Points
Boxing Fight Style - 150 Points
Karate Fight Style - 150 points
Muay Thai Fight Style - 150 Points
Taekwondo Fight Style - 150 Points
[...]]
He considered each style. Kickboxing was balanced. Boxing was pure punching. Taekwondo was flashy kicks. Karate was structured and linear. Street Dog Fighting Style was probably just brawling, nothing exceptionally great.
But Muay Thai... he remembered it had a very fancy name on the internet. "The Art of Eight Limbs" — fists, elbows, knees, and shins. It sounded kind of corny to his tastes, but its strikes were indeed brutal, efficient, designed to cause maximum damage. It was known for its devastating power.
"Looking at my current stats too, I've got Strength 6. I'm way past a normal person's strength. So maximizing this would bring the most amount of worth out of the purchase."
He made his decision.
He purchased Muay Thai Fighting Style — 150 points deducted.
The system chimed softly.
[Muay Thai Fighting Style — Acquired.]
Ervin stared at the notification for a moment. Then he looked back at the store, at his remaining points — 111 left.
After checking his remaining points, Ervin pulled up the status window again.
[[System]
Player: Ervin Mandor
Character 1; Han Joon‑seong
[Characteristics:
Adaptation(Perfect)
Talent(Perfect)
Auto Pilot(Perfect)
Money(Perfect|Middle‑class)
Intuition (Lvl. 1)
Looks(Lvl. 5)
Speed(Lvl. 4)(13/80)
Strength (Lvl. 6)(0/320)
Endurance (Lvl. 5)(60/160)
Vigor (Lvl. 5)(25/160)
Intelligence (Lvl. 3)(24/40)
[Fighting|Muay Thai (Lvl. 1)]
[Tasks:
None]]
"So a fighting style counts as an extra characteristic. Interesting."
He thought about it. What did Level 1 in Muay Thai actually mean? Did he already know the techniques? Or did it just mean he had the basic knowledge without any real application? How would he train it properly? He filed the questions away for later. For now, he crossed his imaginary arms and let the night pass.
---
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, falling across Han Joon-seong's face.
He opened his eyes. The Recovery Pill had done its work — his body was fully healed. No bruises, swelling, nor pain. He sat up and let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank god the mission worked. I was worried it wouldn't. The mission was to survive the executive's attack — now that it's completed, it means I'm no longer in danger of being killed by her."
But something felt odd. He had received a new task every night since arriving in this world. Tonight, for the first time, there was nothing.
"No new task... I guess there's nothing for me to do right now. What does that mean?"
He waved the thought away and began to rise from the bed.
His phone buzzed.
He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. A couple of messages from Lee Hye-jin.
"Hi."
"How are you?"
"Are you okay?"
He stared at the screen, a flicker of guilt crossing his mind.
'Damn. I should have messaged her last night. She must have been worried.'
He typed back: "Yes, I'm fine. How are you? Are you okay?"
She replied quickly: "Yes, yes, I'm fine! Thank you so much for your help yesterday."
"Don't mention it. It was nothing."
A pause. Then: "Would you like to go out today? Maybe grab something to eat?"
Ervin raised his eyebrows. 'Out today? Heck yeah!'
"Sure. That sounds great."
She responded: "Great! There's this place I visited once — the coffee there is really good. We could go there, have some coffee, talk, maybe eat something."
"Sure. What time?"
"For lunch? Does that work?"
Ervin paused. He had planned to go to the gym today. But... he looked at his status, at the new [Fighting|Muay Thai (Lvl. 1)]. As he remembered that, he simply sighed. He probably didn't even need to go to the gym anymore. He was already much stronger than before. Besides, the meeting seemed more important.
'And I think the date is more important than the gym.'
"Lunch works. See you there."
She sent a location pin. He glanced at it — Verdant. The same café where he had sat and drunk that bitter black coffee. A small smile crossed his face.
He stood up from the bed and started walking toward the kitchen. On the way, he passed a mirror. He caught his reflection and stopped.
His clothes were ruined. Torn, covered in blood and dirt. His shoe was still damaged, the sole hanging loose. He looked like he had been through a war.
"I need new clothes."
He quickly got ready — a shower, then a trip to a nearby store to buy something more presentable. He chose a simple but stylish outfit: dark jeans, a fitted black shirt, a clean pair of shoes. Nothing too flashy, but enough to look respectable.
He returned home, waited for the time to pass, and when the clock hit the right hour, he headed out.
The bus ride was short. He arrived at Verdant and through the window he saw Lee Hye-jin sitting at a table. But there was someone sitting across from her.
'She brought a friend?' Ervin thought, a flicker of confusion crossing his mind. 'Then it's not a date. If she brought a friend, it's probably just a casual hangout.' Slight disappointment in his voice, he simply sighed and walked inside.
Lee Hye-jin noticed him immediately. A small, nervous smile spread across her face. Han Joon-seong returned the smile with his usual gentle expression and walked toward the table.
"Good morning, Miss Lee Hye-jin. How are you?"
"Ah, yes, I'm fine! Thank you so much for yesterday, by the way."
"Don't mention it. It was nothing."
He was about to sit down when his gaze shifted to the person sitting across from her.
Their eyes met.
A chill ran down his spine.
The person sitting there released her aura — and it collided with his. A gust of wind seemed to sweep through the café. The decorative plants swayed. Papers and books on nearby tables rustled. Hair swept across faces. Everyone in the café stopped what they were doing, frozen, their attention pulled toward the two figures at the center of the room.
Han Joon-seong's expression went flat. Cold and empty like a doll.
Ervin, watching from above, stared at the woman with a mixture of rage and worry.
'How the hell... why is she here?!'
The woman looked up at him, her expression calm and composed, like she wasn't just releasing a threatening aura his way. She spoke, with a polite, respectful tone to her voice:
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Han Joon-seong. I don't believe I introduced myself formally yesterday. My name is Choi Yuna."
Right in front of him was the executive who, the previous night, had attempted his life.
Different from the previous day, she now wore a casual sundress, its soft fabric falling just above her knees, with thin straps and a gentle floral pattern in muted tones. A simple pair of sandals completed the look. Her long black hair, streaked with red, was tied loosely to one side. She looked like any ordinary young woman enjoying a quiet afternoon, if not for the aura of murdering intent around her.
Han Joon-seong stood there, staring at her with that same doll-like gaze.
Choi Yuna looked around the café. Everyone was tense, watching them. She turned back to him and spoke:
"Please, sit down. Let's talk."
Han Joon-seong looked at her for a moment longer, then walked to the table and sat down in the chair opposite her, next to Lee Hye-jin. He kept staring at her.
Choi Yuna picked up a coffee she had ordered previously and took a sip. Then she set it down and looked at him.
"Well," she said, "I think we should explain ourselves, don't you, Miss Lee Hye-jin?"
Lee Hye-jin looked at Han Joon-seong, then at Choi Yuna, then back at Han Joon-seong. She looked awkward, unsure.
"Okay," she said. "So... here's the thing. I'll explain everything to you, Han Joon-seong."