The text was red, meaning it was a 9-Star Job.

Jin-Hyeok was pretty well-acquainted with ‘Blood Priests.’

‘A Job that can go in one of two completely different paths depending on how it’s developed.’ 

At its core, the Blood Priest Job was one where the Player utilized their own blood.

Using their blood, they had the capacity to either heal or harm others. If they used it to heal others, the Player would become a healer-type Blood Priest; and if they preferred to attack others instead, they would become an offensive-type.

Their abilities were all incredibly strong, to the point of being almost unfair, but they came with a large risk to the user due to the nature of using one’s own blood as a medium to cast those abilities.

In fact, more Blood Priests died as a result of excessive bleeding than not.

As a consequence, there was a time when people didn’t understand the potential of the ‘Blood Priest’ Job very well, and it was classified as merely comparable to a 3-Star Job.

‘That said, Blood Priest is only really a good Job once the Player acquires all three of the [Blood Drain], [Enhanced Human], and [Enhanced Revival] abilities.’ 

‘Blood Drain’ was a Skill that Players with the Blood Priest Job learned naturally as they leveled up, but the ‘Enhanced Human’ and ‘Enhanced Revival’ Traits had to be acquired externally.

‘Should I help her get them?’

Jin-Hyeok found himself in a bit of a dilemma.

If Cha Jin-Sol intended to play seriously, acquiring Enhanced Human and Enhanced Revival was a must. A Blood Priest without those abilities really was no different to one of those mediocre 3-Star Jobs.

A Blood Priest with them, however, was a Job that was outstanding even amongst the other 9-Star Jobs.

That said, Jin-Hyeok didn’t think that Cha Jin-Sol necessarily had to become a great Player.

He already knew that Googol Face would continue to be a highly successful company even in the later days—and with that in mind, it wasn’t a bad option at all for her to just continue working there and living the way she had.

Ultimately though, whichever path she chose, Jin-Hyeok wanted her to live the way she wanted. He was going to need to have a proper chat with her later.

‘And what is this Thousand Days of Prayer?’ 

It had been less than a month, let alone a thousand days since the Open Beta Service had begun, and yet she had the Thousand Days of Prayer Achievement.

That could only mean Jin-Sol was a Player since the start of the Beta testing phase—a Beta Tester.

Jin-Sol poked Jin-Hyeok in his flank.

“What’s got you so occupied?”

“Ow.”

“Ow, my ass. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“You were?”

“Are you for real? Of course I was! What the heck happened?”

Jin-Sol rambled on for a while—perhaps she was recovering from her recent shock slower than Jin-Hyeok had first thought.

She said something about seeing the guy’s wrist dangling; and how terrifying and horrific the whole situation was; and how she couldn’t do a single thing because her head just went blank. Something along those lines.

In summary, the gist of it seemed to be that the whole ordeal was a massive shock to her—but if Jin-Hyeok was being honest, he wouldn’t be able to recite the details of her rant back to her because it went in one ear and out the other.

“…But thank you,” finished Jin-Sol.

“For what?”

“I’m alive right now because of you, oppa. To be completely honest, you were really scary at the time.”

That was strange. Jin-Hyeok could have sworn that in the moment, he had gone out of his way to explain everything to her patiently, with all the requisite politeness and civility there could be.

“Because you did… that,” Jin-Sol said slowly. “Without any expression, as if it was nothing… like you were completely used to it.”

“Ah, so you mean you were taken aback by how kind I was, right?”

“…”

Jin-Sol was silent for a while before she gave her response.

“You were… reliable.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you so glad that I’m your oppa? It’s such a relief, isn’t it?”

In fact, she really did seem to feel that way.

[#deeply relieved #scary but reliable #glad #true family ‘cause he says whatever he wants to me]

There was no doubt that she was suffering from some kind of illness, seeing as she was more comfortable with the idea of Jin-Hyeok treating her however he felt like.

***

Jin-Hyeok stood in front of his home of old once more.

It had been the home he had lived in up until seven years ago, yet now everything about it felt so unfamiliar.

Before his regression, he had lost his entire family in an instant. The serial killer, Jeon Nam-Gil, had killed not only Cha Jin-Sol, but also his mother and father all at once.

At the time, Jin-Hyeok had not been by his family’s side and was unable to protect anyone, despite the fact that he was already more than capable of tracking down Jeon Nam-Gil and killing him the very next month.

‘I guess at that time, I was insane in my own way.’

Indeed. In the past, Jin-Hyeok had focused his entire time and energy on his personal growth, without a single thought spared toward taking care of his family.

This time around, he was going to make sure to never let that happen again.

With all those thoughts in mind, here he was, returned home at last.

‘I guess Mother and Father will be inside when I go in, right?’ 

He couldn’t recall having any meaningful conversations with his parents after his regression. The occasional chat over the phone was the full extent of it.

Jin-Hyeok knew that his parents had basically broken their backs supporting him financially for seven whole years—yet despite that, they had never particularly nagged or reprimanded him for how he was living.

As ever, they simply continued to quietly support him from behind, believing in Jin-Hyeok and waiting patiently for him. They didn’t proactively contact Jin-Hyeok very much either, perhaps because they thought that Jin-Hyeok would find any ensuing talk to be uncomfortable.

“Mom, I’m home!” Cha Jin-Sol shouted.

“Oh, you’re home?”

“Where are you, mom?”

“In the kitchen!”

Jin-Sol took off her shoes. She ran into the kitchen and abruptly hugged mom, who was in the midst of chopping up some scallions, from the back.

“What’s up with you? What’s gotten into you today?”

“Nothing, I just needed a hug. Hug me back.”

“Go away, can’t you see I’m holding a knife? It’s dangerous!”

“Pweez, come on, hug me, hug me. Will ya?”

Cha Jin-Sol was like the sunshine of Jin-Hyeok’s family. Although it was true that she talked super bluntly to Jin-Hyeok at times, even he thought that there were admittedly some sides to her that were lovable.

It seemed that she hadn’t told their parents of the major incident she was embroiled in today—she had just run to her company straight away and brought the lawyers with her.

“Oppa came with me, too. What are you doing, oppa? Come on in.”

“Jin-Hyeok’s come home?” their mom asked, her interest piqued.

At her words, Jin-Hyeok’s father—who had been in the middle of placing the spoons and chopsticks on the dining table—straightened up and turned toward the front entrance, looking at Jin-Hyeok.

Jin-Hyeok smiled sheepishly.

This was an indescribable mixture of feelings—it felt like having a proper reunion for the first time in a few decades rather than a few years.

Truth be told, Jin-Hyeok was not very close to his father.

He felt distant enough from his father that it felt awkward to call him ‘dad,’ while he had no qualms with calling his mother ‘mom.’ Jin-Hyeok knew that his father was a good man and that his father loved him, but he still found the relationship strangely awkward. It was difficult to get closer to him.

Jin-Hyeok’s father was the first to speak.

“You’re home?” he greeted Jin-Hyeok.

He certainly didn’t sound like someone who was meeting their son for the first time in a long while. He just took out one more set of spoon and chopsticks from the cutlery drawer and placed them on the table.

With an air of nonchalance, Jin-Hyeok’s father tossed him short statements of only a few words at a time.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Let’s eat then.”

Jin-Hyeok’s father welcomed him in his own way. On the other hand, his mother made a bit more of a ruckus.

“My goodness! Look how much weight you’ve lost.”

Jin-Hyeok hadn’t lost weight. In fact, if anything, he had gained a little since he had been constantly sitting down for his streams. He was very lucky not to be the type that gained weight easily, or he would practically be obese by this point.

Meanwhile, the mother and daughter pair were quite warm to each other when they exchanged words.

“Hurry and sit. I made those egg rolls you like.”

“With cheese inside?”

“Of course.”

For the first time in a long time, Jin-Hyeok sat around the dining table with his family.

His family treated him the same as usual, as if nothing was out of place. They welcomed him just the same as if nothing exceptional had happened—as if today was another ordinary day with ordinary going-ons. Just the way Jin-Hyeok remembered them.

It was as if they were telling him that no matter the time, this place will never change and would welcome him just the same.

Jin-Hyeok felt once more that home was precious.

‘Yet I couldn’t save them before.’

There really was nothing so objectively special about this little moment they were having, but Jin-Hyeok felt that tears were going to start welling up in his eyes any second.

He had thought that by this point, he had become emotionally dull and desensitized after everything he had been through—but it looked like these kinds of feelings hadn’t left him.

Jin-Hyeok’s father, who had been maintaining silence for almost the whole duration of their meal, asked another prompt, nonchalant question to Jin-Hyeok.

“How’s your health?”

“I’m doing pretty fine.”

“Then good.”

His father finished his meal and went to his room.

Jin-Hyeok’s mother began to whisper to him.

“He pretends to be cool as a cucumber, but he cried over a photo of you.”

“…He cried?”

“I think he was worried sick about you,” his mother explained. “Whether you were eating properly, if you weren’t sick or hurting anywhere, and if your allowance was enough. We aren’t exactly in a position to cut loose and send you lots, you know?”

“…”

In truth, Jin-Hyeok’s father was not able to work for long periods because of problems with his hip. As a result, their household actually wasn’t well-off.

Even as he was grateful, Jin-Hyeok was dumbfounded as to how his parents weren't tired of him. Having a son who’d spent seven years cooped up in a rental room, without a single result produced all these while, should have been more than enough to make anyone exhausted.

“Thanks for waiting for me this long,” Jin-Hyeok said to his mom.

“What do you mean?”

“I found a job.”

“You found a job?” his mother’s eyes widened.

She held the expression of someone who had a whole torrent of questions they wanted to unleash, but were trying their best to restrain themselves. Perhaps she was worried that if she made too much of a fuss over the fact that he was finally employed, she would hurt his feelings.

That said, what was amusing was that, just like magic, the door to his parents’ bedroom that had been closed became slightly ajar as he said those words. His father seemed to have opened it slightly; moments like these made him admittedly seem a bit endearing.

“Yup,” Jin-Hyeok replied to his mom, “I get paid a lot, and the company has good benefits too. I got my first paycheck, and now I can be the one to give you money.”

Jin-Hyeok considered telling his parents straightforwardly that he was a Streamer, but he decided to just say he found a job. His parents’ generation thought that ultimately, the ideal life was simply finding work at a place that treated you well, getting married, and having children. Phrasing it this way would probably give his mom more peace of mind than explaining what his job was about.

Jin-Hyeok pulled out a white envelope with five million won inside.

When his mother received it and discovered its contents, she very much nearly fainted.

“What on… why did you put in so much money?”

The bedroom door opened a little wider.

***

Ultimately, Jin-Hyeok’s parents refused to accept the money.

From the sound of things, his mom thought there was no reason to receive such a large sum of money from him, instead suggesting that he’d better prepare for the future and try his best to save up while he was still young.

Jin-Hyeok told her not to worry so much because he was going to become a property owner, to which she replied with a cackle of laughter.

At some point, his father came out to the living room and slipped out a mere one hundred thousand won from the envelope, returning the other 4.9 million to Jin-Hyeok; accompanied by the words that this much was enough for them, and for him to keep the rest.

At the end of the ordeal, Jin-Hyeok returned to his room.

‘It’s clean.’

His room had been empty for seven whole years, but it had remained free of dust all this time.

This room that had been his for so long felt so unfamiliar now.

Jin-Hyeok’s room was incredibly modest compared to the accommodations he had stayed at prior to his regression. He had stayed at top-of-the-line hotels with his comrades, yet it was cozier and more homely than those would ever be.

Knock, knock.

Someone rapped on his door.

“Oppa. I’m coming in.” It was Jin-Sol.

“Why are you knocking all of a sudden?”

From what Jin-Hyeok remembered, the Cha Jin-Sol of seven years ago was not the type that had the manners to knock before entering. She had matured, that was for sure.

“Did you actually get a job?” Jin-Sol asked.

“Look, I’ll never be rich if I just got a job.”

Jin-Hyeok was speaking from experience. After all, his previous place of occupation had been the nation, where he had been a kind of pseudo-government official.

At that time, other Players who were of similar strength to him were able to acquire wealth to such a degree that it did not fall shy of the money of chaebols—though of course, their average lifespan was brutally short—yet Jin-Hyeok was not able to accomplish the same. His salary had been around 500 million won.

While it was certainly an amount that would be considered more than enough by most people, it was pitifully small compared to the money that other top-ranking Players were raking in.

To be frank, though, it was because Jin-Hyeok hadn’t been interested in making money at all at the time. He had solely been concerned with strength, and strength only.

Come to think of it now, Jin-Hyeok realized that the government officials had maybe taken advantage of this characteristic of his.

“…Then what are you doing?” Jin-Sol pressed on.

“I’m a streamer.”

“And where did that five million won come from?”

“I earned it while streaming.”

“You mean you saved that up over the seven years?”

“Nope. That’s how much I made in a day.”

Cha Jin-Sol’s eyes widened before it was slowly replaced with a frown.

“Oppa.”

“What?”

“Look, I fully understand that there are things you’d want to keep secret from me. But tell me the truth on this one, please.”

Jin-Hyeok wasn’t sure how he could possibly have been more truthful.

“I absolutely don’t intend to criticize or insult you even if you say you only saved up five million won over seven years—no, in fact, I think it’s admirable. You were able to save up a whole five million won even in an environment with all that hardship. You did your best, and I really think it was more than commendable.”

What was she building things up so much for?

“I’ll support you and have your back whatever you do,” Cha Jin-Sol added.

That sounded awfully like something Babyshark would say.

It seemed that no matter what, Cha Jin-Sol wasn’t going to believe that Jin-Hyeok had made 5 million won in a single day.

‘Oh well, I’m sure time will sort that one out.’

Jin-Hyeok didn’t have any intention of flaunting around this one trivial success anyway. He had the patience to wait until he became a building owner in Yeonhui-dong to prove himself—and that wasn’t going to take so long.

“Hey, Jin-Sol.”

“What the—why are you calling me that?”

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and shivered with apparent disgust. What was so weird?

“What exactly did I call you?”

“You just called me Jin-Sol,” she blurted.[1]

She approached him and put a finger on his forehead.

“Hmm… doesn’t seem like he’s sick…” she muttered under her breath.

Jin-Hyeok just decided to ignore that and continue the conversation.

He was still curious about what choice Cha Jin-Sol wanted to make for herself.

“How’s your workplace? Fun?”

“What kind of psycho finds work fun?”

“…I’m sure there’s a few that do.”

When Jin-Hyeok was with the NIS, he had actually found the work to be quite fun. In fact, he enjoyed most of his time working with them up until he was cursed by the Empress of Hell.

Cha Jin-Sol, on the other hand, said she didn’t like going to work.

“Then how do you find playing the game?”

“Hmm, it’s fun. Whenever someone’s healed because of me, there’s a sense of joy and accomplishment.”

Joy and accomplishment—truly, they had the same blood running through them. Jin-Hyeok secretly felt pretty proud of her.

“Oh, yeah?”

If that was how she felt, there was a little something he could do for her.

Jin-Hyeok decided he would help her get the ‘Enhanced Human’ and ‘Enhanced Revival’ Traits.

Even if she had those Traits, it wasn’t like she was suddenly going to become a cream-of-the-crop ranker. Jin-Hyeok just wanted to ensure that even if she eventually chose to quit the game later, she had a good time playing while it lasted.

‘Looks like we need to drop by Sareoga Mart Dungeon.’

He remembered there was a hidden stage there on the second floor.

‘This is going to be fu—stop it.’

Here was another thing he really needed to get around to: fixing this nasty habit of getting pumped up at the very prospect of entering a Dungeon.