Prologue. A Story Within a Novel
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[Kim Suho]
Age in story: 17–27.
A devout hard worker. Common in status but extraordinary in character and talent. A genius who distinguished himself from the military academy. Holds a special secret he has revealed to no one in the story.
[Shin Jonghak] Age in story: 17–27.
One of Korea’s largest chaebol families vying for the top spot in the business world, the fourth-generation descendant of Jinseong Group. Possesses high self-esteem befitting a chaebol scion, with elitist ideology permeating to the bone. His character later combined with an inferiority complex toward Kim Suho to turn Shin Jonghak into a villain.
He antagonizes the protagonist with stubbornness such as “I must be the best,” “I cannot tolerate anyone above me,” and so on.
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The two above could be called the protagonists of my novel.
There are quite a few other characters besides these two, but I cannot list them all. In my novel, there probably exist hundreds of millions of characters equivalent to an entire world, so while I might name “important supporting roles” like heroines or helpers, there is no way I could name all of them.
······And if you are suddenly wondering why I am telling you this pointless story.
─Hero Association Affiliate “Agent” Military Academy Seoul Branch Graduation Ceremony, 2024 Academic Year Cadet Division 1st Place. Kim Suho.
It is because the story I wrote in my novel is unfolding before my very eyes.
Called to the podium, Kim Suho ascends with a stiff face, seemingly nervous.
This place is a vast, expansive auditorium reminiscent of a temple. Three thousand cadets and tens of thousands of outsiders are in attendance. Their gazes are focused entirely on one person, Kim Suho.
“Is that Kim Suho? Amazing.”
“Wow. He’s handsome~”
Some women send pure admiration and infatuation,
“······So this is what they mean by talent. What’s the point of effort when a guy like that takes first place.”
“Ah, that bastard is all raw talent.”
The jealousy of immature minds naturally follows, and
“He is the cadet with the best grades in the past ten years.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard. They say his talent has already been revealed. That······ ‘Sword Saint’?”
Guild officials who came to observe the unprecedented talent light up their eyes.
They are looking down from the highest floor of the auditorium, the VIP seats. Yet I can hear their voices. Though they seem at least 1km away, when I look in that direction, their conversation lodges straight into my ears.
It is not just conversation. Their faces are clear too.
Perhaps this is my “talent.”
“Yes. They say he is blessed by the world’s protection in swordsmanship.”
“Hmm······. I can’t tell just from hearing about it, but well, information provided by the school is always like that.”
“That kid. We’ve claimed him, so don’t touch him.”
Among them quietly conversing, I recognized one face.
Yun Seunga. One of the female protagonists who becomes an important helper to the protagonist and later develops to the point of being on the verge of lovers. During the time they were in an ambiguous relationship—actually, while she was swimming in the protagonist’s fish farm—I went on hiatus so they did not become lovers.
“What do you mean claimed. Cadets go to whoever meets the conditions.”
At another guild official’s cold remark, Yun Seunga smiles brightly and retorts.
“Is that why Jeongsu of Jeongsu Strait is perpetually second place?”
I know Yun Seunga’s face. Curiously, she resembles my first love from college. Probably because the appearance I imagined when writing Yun Seunga was that first love. Well, rather than first love, it is unrequited love.
“······Shall I take that as a duel request?”
“I am joking, I am joking. And it is still too early to scout anyone. There are still 3 years left, are there not?”
“It is 2 years.”
“······You know pre-contact is illegal, right?”
“That is only if you do not get caught.”
Yun Seunga and the man’s gazes clash. The temperature in that VIP seat probably rose considerably.
Thus, the battle to secure Kim Suho has already begun.
─2024 Academic Year Cadet Division 2nd Place. Shin Jonghak.
Meanwhile, the next protagonist has appeared.
He is none other than a scion of the Jinseong family. Shin Jonghak’s beauty is no less than Kim Suho’s.
The hall buzzes just as it did when Kim Suho appeared. However, the jealousy and envy from Kim Suho’s time have gone extinct. Only longing and admiration fill the space. While Kim Suho is the “brat who I don’t know why he’s better than me,” Shin Jonghak is the “blue-blooded noble born better than me,” and that is why.
Shin Jonghak ascends the podium leisurely, as if displaying the dignity of his bloodline.
Kim Suho and Shin Jonghak.
Standing side by side, they glare at each other.
Sparks fly from the brief eye contact.
Those two are undoubtedly important characters in my novel.
Then. Where am I?
Not the podium but the back seats, belonging not to “one of three thousand” but merely part of “the three thousand,” in a place unnoticed by any guild official.
“Chundong, what rank are you? I am rank 2,900, dude.”
A pig-faced boy next to me strikes up a conversation. His name tag reads “Kim Hoseop.” Then he must be someone who appears eventually. Though lacking physical ability to become a hero, his information-related talent is exceptional.
“Chundong-nyaang?”
“······I don’t know.”
I don’t know myself. I don’t even know why the name is Chundong.
If I knew I would end up in this situation, shouldn’t I have been one of those two on that podium?
“Ehh~ if you don’t know that······.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Once again, I don’t know myself.
This world is the novel I wrote, yet I have become a character I never wrote even once.
Nothing would be out of the ordinary except for having enrolled in the Agent Military Academy, a character with no connection to anyone in the novel, whose name would never be written on the pages of the story.
That is to say,
I have become an extra in the novel.
······No. I have become dust in the novel.
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Cube (1)
One day, an email came to me. It said they wanted to remake my novel.
At the time, I was dumbfounded. It was on hiatus, but still, they wanted to remake a novel that had even been serialized for pay.
Naturally, I refused. No, I did not even send a reply.
Copyright infringement is not something you can commit without considerable audacity, but more than anything, the sign saying “on hiatus” was too embarrassing.
The web novel I had written, Otherworld Return Hero.
Not a smash hit, but one with moderate popularity, the biggest hit in my roughly 8-year career.
However, at the time I received that email, the novel’s hiatus had already exceeded 3 months.
The reason was simple. I just could not write.
I started with passion. The setting document alone reached 50,000 characters, and I poured my heart and soul into writing.
But less than a year after serialization began, I fell into a terrible slump.
At the time, the novel’s narrative had already reached the latter half of the middle section, but I had forced the development, so character collapse was a given, and plausibility was riddled with holes. Naturally, sales dropped daily. I could not even bring myself to read the comments.
In the end, I chose hiatus.
But no matter how much I rested, the writing would not continue. I could not even write simple sentences.
Feeling my incompetence acutely, at the half-year mark of the hiatus when even breathing felt suffocating—
Another email came saying they wanted to remake my novel.
[Please. This is merely for self-satisfaction. I will not release the remade novel’s contents anywhere. Only I and the author will know. Who knows? You might gain inspiration from my remake and think of the next development······]
A fairly long email composed of six paragraphs, but the summary was simple.
They wanted to remake my novel for self-satisfaction.
I had no lofty pride in what I had written, and besides, it was for self-satisfaction and how much must they like my novel to do this, with a mix of gratitude and guilt, I replied that I would permit it.
······Then, could that brief episode be the cause of my current situation?
They say the odds of winning the lottery are 1 in 8,145,060. Yet the phenomenon that has swallowed me now is no less than 1 in 7 billion.
Where I stand is an ordinary home.
But the world I exist in is not the world I lived in, and the “me” called me is not me either. You might think this is somewhat philosophical, but this is the most intuitive expression to describe my situation.
I have become an extra in my own novel.
Only an extra with a name I have no memory of writing.
Kim Chundong.
Chundong lives in an ordinary apartment, but has no parents. The reason, of course, is unknown.
Chundong enrolled in the Agent Military Academy, an elite training institution to oppose monsters and demons. Probably at age 9.
What ability did Chundong possess to proudly pass that entrance exam?
I do not know.
I do not know anything about this guy. I do not even know his face. I am not joking, it is real.
When I look in the mirror, the face above the neck is
(?)
Like that. He actually looks like that. An elongated circle with a question mark right on it.
For this insane, sudden possession? transfer? phenomenon, there was no trigger at all. I went to sleep lying in bed as usual, and when I opened my eyes, it was the last day of the semester at Agent Military Academy.
On the first day, I had two hypotheses.
First, hidden camera.
Rejected in 5 seconds. The reason is too tiresome to explain in detail.
Second, dream.
I desperately hoped it was a dream but naturally had to reject it. As anyone who has dreamed knows, not only can you not realize you are in a dream while dreaming, but above all, there is no dream that continues for two weeks while maintaining vivid senses.
Thus, I spent two weeks agonizing over whether to think of the “world in the novel” as “the reality I face.”
Ding-dong-daeng—
Dadadadadadadadada~
While lying in bed staring blankly at the ceiling as I had for two weeks, my smartphone alarm began blaring noisily. A glance showed “Time to go to school—.”
“Why the fuck would I go to school.”
Thirteen days ago was the graduation ceremony. Agent Military Academy cadet graduation ceremony. But here, graduation is only for non-combat cadets—non-combat cadets are not even called heroes—while combat field cadets must attend for 3 more years.
Those 3 years are life at the Hero Academy, or Hero Academy, shortened as “Hero Acad” but called the flower of [Cube].
And this damn Chundong was a combat field cadet. I do not even know who he is.
“Ah······ fucking annoying.”
For nearly 2 weeks, I did almost nothing. Posted some nonsense online, ate when hungry, looked for ways to get out online again, laughed watching variety shows on TV since they were quite fun and amazing, ate when hungry······ and two days ago went to Seoul to attend some Cube entrance ceremony or whatever for about 3 hours. That was it.
I did not want to go but had no choice because non-attendance meant disqualification.
“...I think I have to go.”
I do not know why, who, or what force dropped me here.
But after spending two weeks in idleness, I could not help but sense it. The intuition that I would likely have to stay here for quite a while.
Then should I not at least eat well and live well?
At least according to my novel’s setting, “Hero” is a citizen’s dream job. Plus, there is not much life-threatening work. Around the middle section, villains appear like bamboo shoots after rain and the development becomes quite serious, but not long after, it goes on hiatus.
I just need to live well and hold out until then. Living like that, some way out will appear.
[7:33 AM]
Only 57 minutes remain until school attendance, no, “entry.”
I get up from bed and trudge to the bathroom.
Standing before the washbasin, Mr. Question Mark is waiting for me.
“······Fucking question mark. When will this go away.”
I am not joking, my face is literally a question mark. I do not even know why.
To say he was a question mark because I didn’t describe his face didn’t make sense—there were thousands, hundreds of millions of other people I hadn’t described, and each of them had their own appearance. So why only Chundong?
“I don’t know~”
I muttered it like a sigh and washed my face. The texture of my skin was the same. I even had hair. That made it even creepier.
After roughly grooming myself, I came out and put on the so-called “Cube uniform” that had been issued at the “Cube entrance ceremony” two days ago. I had no other luggage.
If I went outside wearing this, the kids out there would probably look at me with envy.
But the thing was, I didn’t even know what I was good at. My face was a question mark, so what could I possibly know?
Holding the doorknob of the front door, I glanced back.
My home for the past two weeks. The apartment I had barely managed to find thanks to the address written on my cadet ID. I must have grown attached to it in that short time. For some reason, I felt like I was going to miss it.
Cube floated on the East Sea. Once I entered it, I probably wouldn’t come back here.
“Whew.”
Leaving behind the apartment that had at least been nice because it was bigger than my studio, I stepped into a dark and unfamiliar world.
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Cube (2)
The world’s finest hero training institution, where cutting-edge magic, science, and magic-engineering technology converged.
[Cube]
was quite vast. In fact, Cube itself was the name of an artificial island located near the East Sea. The area of this artificial island was roughly twice that of Yeouido.
In this absurdly vast Cube, there were only about five thousand hero cadets enrolled across all years. Among them, approximately thirteen hundred were first-years. Two weeks ago, two thousand non-combat personnel had graduated, but elite cadets with outstanding records had flocked in from countries all over the world, making the competition even more intense. For a society of seventeen- to nineteen-year-olds, it was far too bleak and fierce.
On top of that, in the second semester, mages from the “National Magic University” who had chosen heroism as their career path would come down, adding another two to three hundred people.
Add to that the training instructors, cafeteria ladies, cleaners, scouts who visited constantly, government officials, engineers who inspected and operated the training facilities, soldiers stationed there in preparation for unforeseen incidents, doctors and researchers who examined and studied the cadets’ conditions, and so on… including the countless people involved, around fifty thousand people lived in Cube.
That was how much this place served as the cutting-edge cradle where Korea’s investments were concentrated. And if it faithfully followed the settings of my novel, Korea was a world power on par with the United States. I seemed to have written down all sorts of reasons for that, but the fundamental reason was, of course, because I was Korean.
In any case, since Chundong had made it into Cube, he could be called an elite. But I hadn’t allocated any story to Chundong. So, somewhere away from the main story, Chundong probably wouldn’t have lived a life as strong and burdened with responsibility as the protagonist, but he would have joined some lower-ranked guild and lived better than the majority of citizens.
…That’s honestly the kind of life I want, too.
Sighing, I looked at the classroom door.
[Beginner—Truth (眞理)]
Beginner meant first-year, and Truth was the name of the class. To put it simply, it was first-year Class 1.
I knew what kind of class this was.
It was the class with Sin Jonghak and Kim Suho, where factions would split and all sorts of messy schemes would unfold—most of them the work of Sin Jonghak and his crowd. I probably wouldn’t be able to avoid getting swept up in it even if I tried.
“Phew.”
I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. Very carefully.
The interior was neat. In the pure white space, long desks were arranged in three tiered rows.
Where should I sit? As I wondered and looked around, I spotted Sin Jonghak in the very back seat. With an imposing air, his hands in his pockets, he sat still with his eyes closed as if thinking about something. Beside him, his childhood friend Yu Yeonha was chattering away.
Neither of them paid me any attention.
Thank goodness.
I sat down in a corner of the middle row.
Like an extra, I sat blankly and stared ahead. There was no blackboard, only a silver screen. They were probably going to project something with a hologram and teach that way.
Just looking at it made me sigh. After going through elementary, middle, high school, and even the military, I had to go back to school again. Of all the disasters in the world, this was one hell of a disaster.
“...Huaaam.”
Cube’s new semester began in February. So it was cold outside, but warm inside, making me drowsy.
The current time was 8:00 a.m. Class started at 8:30.
Honestly, arriving this early was unexpected. Getting from Seoul to Cube was quick if you used a “Portal,” but I had thought I would get lost inside the Cube grounds. Yet there was something called a Cube bus, which hadn’t existed in my settings.
It went around the Cube grounds