After taking a break, Do-Jin logged back into LOST. The first thing he did was call out to Anemone. The silver wolf had been resting quietly inside him, yet the moment she heard her new name, her eyes snapped open.

“Yeah!”

With nothing more than the intent to summon her, light flared, and the silver wolf appeared at his side. She padded toward him right away, her gaze holding a faint trace of worry.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Doesn’t it drain you when I’m out here like this?” she asked. Anemone could feel the flow of mana from her contractor pouring into her.

“Don’t worry about it. The mana it takes to call you out isn’t even worth mentioning. You can probably feel that yourself, can’t you?”

Thanks to Mana Delay he had picked up in the Tower of Trials, every aspect of his mana—from the total amount and efficiency to its casting speed, strength, and stability—had skyrocketed. For most mages, calling out a spirit like Anemone would’ve been a back-breaking drain, yet for Do-Jin it hardly even counted as an effort.

Even so, she wrinkled her nose as she didn’t like the idea of putting even the slightest weight on his shoulders. Do-Jin chuckled under his breath and reached out, running his hand through her mane to settle her nerves. Her tail started wagging in a slow, steady beat, the kind that gave away her mood better than anything she could’ve said.

[Anemone]

Level: 83

Entity: Spirit

Strength: 395

Agility: 395

Stamina: 395

Spirit Power: 395

Skills (0): [Show]

Traits (2): [Show]

Do-Jin’s hand kept running gently along the back of her neck, yet his eyes stayed fixed on the Status Window hanging in the air. This was the first time he’d actually taken a proper look at her stats. When the hidden quest ended, he’d been too drained to even bother.

Her status screen was about as simple as it got. She was a perfectly balanced spirit, every stat scaling evenly one-to-one with her Spirit Power. Since she had only just been born, there weren’t any skills she could wield yet, though she did come into the world with a couple of innate traits.

[Strong Attack]

[Increased Resistance]

Just like her stats, even her traits couldn’t have been simpler. Strong Attack did exactly what it sounded like, boosting her attack power by one and a half times. Increased Resistance scaled off her Spirit Power, raising her physical and magical defense as well as her resistance to elements and status effects. In short, Anemone wasn’t a spirit with flashy tricks, yet she was built to hit hard and hold the line. That alone was enough to make Do-Jin more than satisfied.

This is exactly what I needed, he thought.

As a mage, no matter how sturdy or quick on his feet he was compared to others of his class, his weak points still came down to physical offense and defense. That was why having a spirit like Anemone, strong in close-range combat and tanking, was the perfect sidekick.

“Do-Jin?” Anemone tilted her head, clearly puzzled at how long he’d been staring into thin air.

“Anemone, want to go out and play?” he asked casually, closing the Status Window.

“Play?” Her ears flicked upright and her voice rose in surprise, like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard.

Do-Jin nodded slightly, already thinking to himself, I’ve already done the math in my head. Next step is getting her out to the field and testing her abilities.

That day, he took Anemone across five different hunting grounds. He threw her into one fight after another, testing her against anything and everything they came across. By the time they finished, he couldn’t hold back a crooked smile.

This is broken... She’s practically a cheat code. He grinned, giddy at the thought of picking up yet another game-breaking trump card.

***

Do-Jin had spent plenty of time breaking in the new power he’d gained. Last time, all he had done was polish up what he already had, so there hadn’t been much to get used to. Now, it was both his strength and Anemone’s combined, a whole different beast. The only caveat was that they needed to spend a good amount of time getting used to moving as one.

They burned through hunting grounds, fighting side by side until it started to click. Along the way they talked a hell of a lot, learning each other inside and out. A week slipped by, then ten days, and by the fifteenth day they’d fallen into a rhythm that felt natural.

“What the hell...?” Do-Jin froze in mid-motion, glass of water hovering at his lips in the real world.

“Your new video should be ready in about a week,” Chun Ji-Hyun said as she set a cup of green juice down in front of him. “The team says it’s going to be amazing, so you should look forward to it. They’ve been working so hard... the whole department is pulling all-nighters, even doing remote shifts, just to finish it.”

Her words were casual, but Do-Jin was caught completely off guard. “What video are you talking about?” he asked.

“That one,” Chun Ji-Hyun replied calmly. “The hidden quest you did this time. I couldn’t watch it yet because it’s too long, but the team leader seems completely hyped about it.”

Naturally, it was long because he’d been trapped in that cursed place for a full week, grinding it out with no pause. The runtime eventually stacked up like a mountain. However, the real issue here was the fact that he hadn’t sent a single frame to anyone.

Do-Jin accepted the glass of green juice Chun Ji-Hyun handed him, his expression still confused. “Why the hell is this even being made? I never sent anyone a video.”

Chun Ji-Hyun looked at him as if he was talking nonsense. “I asked you before, remember? I asked if I could handle the new footage the same way I did last time and you told me to go ahead, so I did exactly that.”

Do-Jin blinked hard. “I said that?”

“I even reminded you about it afterward. Were you not listening when you answered me back then?”

Do-Jin fell silent. Even after finishing the hidden quest, his life had been nonstop. He barely left the capsule, and whenever he did, it was only to eat or crash for a few hours before diving back in. He vaguely remembered Chun Ji-Hyun saying something a few times and unconsciously replying to her before disappearing into the game again. Those memories flickered through his head like a panorama, and his jaw locked shut.

Chun Ji-Hyun narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”

Do-Jin forced out a reply through clenched teeth. “I listened. I just... forgot for a second.”

He sipped the bitter juice, pretending to be distracted, but it tasted even worse than usual today. With that bitterness lingering in his mouth, he let his gaze drift toward the distance.

I was planning to keep Anemone under wraps for a while... but maybe that’s blown to hell now. No, maybe I can just have them cut the ending. It’s not finished yet, so it should be possible.

As those thoughts crossed his mind, she pressed him again, her eyes still narrowed.

“Be honest. You don’t actually remember much of what I said, do you?”

Do-Jin exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Sorry.”

She let out a small sigh, the sound more resigned than angry, like she had expected this outcome. Watching her, Do-Jin gave up on the idea of having the video edited. After all, every time he logged out, there was always proof of Chun Ji-Hyun’s care waiting for him.

During the day, she looked after him herself. At night, after she returned home from work, she left meals ready for him, making sure he would eat. To Do-Jin, she was the one constant reminder that his real-world self wasn’t completely alone.

Yeah, I really was a dick about it.

He had been too wrapped up in the game, brushing off her words like they meant nothing. Of course she would have felt hurt. Even if he was still adjusting to the new strength he’d gained, there was no excuse for being that careless.

Yet, Chun Ji-Hyun never seemed to dwell on those things.

Her voice stayed calm, almost soothing. “I noticed you’ve been distracted, eating in a rush and running straight back into the capsule. So listen properly now. The company already has a project lined up for this video.”

Do-Jin stiffened. “A project?”

His thoughts soured instantly. What the hell’s so big about this? Isn’t it just another highlight reel for the channel?

Suddenly, he choked. The juice burned as it went down the wrong way, forcing him into a fit of suppressed coughing. At least he managed not to spray it all over the table, but his chest still hammered from the shock.

“Ji-Hyun, what did you just say?” he forced out the words between breaths.

“The content team lead was gritting his teeth, saying they’d put out drama-quality videos this time, and now they’ve decided to upload it as a 12-episode series,” she explained.

That alone was insane. Who the hell would upload a twelve-episode series on MeTube? However, that wasn’t even the part that made Do-Jin’s blood run cold.

“No, the part after that...”

“During the upload period, merch production is locked in, and the collab with Rael Fashion is already confirmed. Depending on the response, they’ll expand further and scale the project. I told you all of this already,” Chun Ji-Hyun reminded him. “I told you to pay attention. You just don’t remember.”

Do-Jin was at a loss for words. While everything had been blowing up on this scale, he’d been completely oblivious, locked in his games.

Some things never change. Once he gets fixated on one thing, he loses sight of everything else around him, she thought with a sigh.

A lot about him had shifted, but the core of the person hadn’t. The side effect of that sharp, unmatched focus, neglecting everything else, was the same as ever.

Do-Jin let out a bitter laugh. “But isn’t this blowing things out of proportion?”

“With the kind of popularity you’ve got? You might not feel it since you’re glued to your games, but for the company, which crunches the numbers and tracks the stats, it’s a whole different story,” Chun Ji-Hyun pointed out.

The mention of the word “popularity” made him feel an awkward mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness.

Chun Ji-Hyun looked straight at him and said, “This is payback for tuning me out, so just suck it up. If you try to stick your nose in now, I’m screwed.”

She then drew the edge of her hand across her neck in a throat-slitting gesture, and Do-Jin gave up on the spot.

Fuck it. I’m just gonna head back into virtual reality. A picnic with Anemone doesn’t sound bad... even if the spot is nothing but a hunting ground.