I Became the Cute One in the Troubleshooter Squad-Chapter 92: Ghosts Also Live in the Online World (3)

Some might know this story already, but there’s a theory called the “Dead Internet Theory.”

Its premise was simple: the majority of content on the internet is actually created by AI and bots.

In other words, all the news, videos, and posts you encounter online are fabricated, and even the reactions to them come from fake accounts that don’t really exist.

The idea was that we’re easily manipulated by fabricated public opinion created by someone else. Essentially, it was just another conspiracy theory.

Still, this theory has been around since the old days, when there was no technology capable of achieving such feats.

It was merely a quirky internet topic to laugh about and move on from.

However, as technology advanced, this became more than just a joke.

Fake news and falsified data, so cleverly manipulated that it became almost impossible to tell what was real, flooded the internet to the point of overshadowing genuine information.

Fake accounts, also known as bots, mimicked human behavior so well that they could sway public opinion with reactions that seemed more human than human.

This had a particularly profound effect on the millions of non-humans, who were more vulnerable to manipulation through media and marketing.

“We can’t let ourselves be toyed with by AI any longer. It’s time we created an internet space exclusively for real humans.”

This situation was unwelcome to everyone—except for the select few who had orchestrated it.

That’s where Pioneer stepped in, vowing to eliminate generated content and fake accounts.

This mission is why it’s now the most popular platform of its time.

“Hmph. It really looks like a real person. A perfectly crafted photo that even passes AI detection, an SNS account linked with ten years of history, and even a verified bank account. But I guess they couldn’t alter Night Haven’s database, huh? Gotcha.”

In a pitch-black, narrow room where all the windows were covered with blackout curtains, leaving not a single ray of light, a girl sat slouched on a chair in a posture that would probably ruin her back.

Her faintly illuminated silhouette from the monitor light was unique.

Pink skin that looked soft to the touch, golden eyes, and two long, thin tendrils extending from the back of her neck.

Though her body was humanoid, her tendrils made her resemble a non-human species with a more clustered human-like appearance.

Her name was Sephara.

Sephara’s specialty was striking enemies with the hard, lightning-fast tendrils extending from the back of her neck.

They were strong enough to dent a cheap iron sword easily.

But in the absence of enemies in her room, they served only as pseudo-fingers, assisting her in typing.

“Hah, trying to fool a site admin with something like this? You’re a century too early!”

Sephara was an exceptional hacker. Her alias, Phara, came from the latter part of her name.

Among the countless hackers who’d fallen victim to her, she’d earned another nickname: Mad Dog Phara.

Although she did have a humiliating past, where she burst into tears on the spot after being completely outclassed by an unknown hacker.

Even so, she was still one of the top-tier hackers in Night Haven, enough to be counted on one hand.

Perhaps it was because of this outstanding skill that Sephara was offered a position as a Pioneer administrator, with a guarantee of massive financial compensation.

Her role was to investigate suspicious users and determine whether they were real people or bots.

If they were determined to be fake accounts, she had the authority to immediately delete them.

She was unparalleled in her ability to expose a fake with the slightest trace of evidence,

and her overwhelming power to eliminate them with a flick of her tendrils made her an iron-blooded guardian within Pioneer.

“Still, it’s a bit disappointing. I thought they’d come up with something new this time, but it’s just the same old methods with more refinement.”

After erasing the fake account Jane Smith, which had been consuming an unusually high amount of traffic,

Sephara leaned back in her chair with a bored sigh.

While she appreciated the high pay, the work wasn’t exciting.

Most of the users trying to meddle with the site were amateurs, so it was rare for her to encounter a thrilling challenge.

Of course, if she ever engaged in a heart-pounding battle, it could leave the site in shambles.

But sometimes, she found herself hoping for something like that—even if it meant getting fired as an administrator.

But as the saying goes, “A careless tongue invites calamity.”

Perhaps because of this idle thought, a notification popped up on her monitor with a cute icon.

[ Suspicious activity detected in the Indian Cuisine Community! ]

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

“Huh? Again? Don’t tell me it’s the same person. It should take at least an hour to create a fake account of that quality.”

Crack.

Stretching her arms over her head, Sephara loosened her stiff muscles.

Then, fixing her posture, she used her tendrils to manipulate the mouse and quickly assessed the situation.

The anomaly was occurring in a remote community with very few users.

It was a barren forum where new posts appeared only once every three or four days.

Now, posts were being uploaded every ten seconds as if the forum had suddenly become popular.

Of course, the content of these posts was low-quality, like something generated by a cheap automatic program.

However, what really irked Sephara wasn’t the posts themselves.

The author of these posts was none other than Jane Smith1,

the same account she’d just banned earlier.

“Hah, so you’re challenging me now?”

Throb. A vein bulged on Sephara’s forehead.

For an account she’d just expelled to crawl back like this—it was clearly a provocation.

She immediately used her tendrils to ban Jane Smith1 and deleted all the trash posts in one swoop.

With that, the Indian Cuisine Community quickly regained its peace.

Sephara, with tired eyes, confirmed there were no further anomalies, then began digging into Jane Smith1’s account data on her sub-monitor.

To her surprise, what appeared on the monitor wasn’t the same Jane Smith she had seen earlier but an entirely different person with a new face and background.

This time, the address wasn’t in Night Haven but in a little-known city called Belmont.

Even so, Sephara quickly realized that this new profile was just as fabricated as the last one.

“What is this? Did they prepare a stockpile of personas to use one at a time? If they’re this thorough, why not just rob a bank? What’s the point of causing trouble here?”

She clicked her tongue. If this was the extent of their ingenuity, they still posed no real threat.

With her tendrils slicing through the air, Sephara began tracking whoever was behind these Jane Smith profiles.

If they were capable of creating such meticulously crafted fake personas, there had to be a mistake somewhere.

Sephara planned to unmask them and make their face the next announcement on Pioneer’s bulletin board.

However, as she delved deeper into the information, her expression stiffened.

No matter how much she analyzed the personal details, IP addresses, emails, or linked SNS accounts,

there wasn’t a single trace that suggested these were fake.

The data was indistinguishable from a real person.

“What? These aren’t AI-generated photos, and they’re not stolen from somewhere either? Then what the hell is this? Who are the people in the background of this photo? Who goes through this much trouble for a disposable fake account?”

This was frustratingly detailed in all the wrong places. Tracing it back would be a challenge.

Clicking her tongue, Sephara decided to monitor the situation cautiously, in case there was another intrusion.

Sure enough, as she expected, Jane Smith2 appeared and attacked the same community. She banned the account immediately.

Then, as if anticipating the ban, Jane Smith3 popped up just seconds later. Another ban.

Soon after, Jane Smith4, 5, 6... bombarded the Indian Cuisine Community.

By the time Jane Smith25 met their end at the hands of administrator Sephara, she slammed her tendrils on the desk and yelled.

“Argh! You persistent jerk! Did you have some grudge about not being able to eat Indian food or something? Why are you so obsessed with this?”

At this rate, there was no end in sight. She needed to eliminate the source.

Just as she glared at the intrusive notifications from her administrator email with a murderous look,

she slammed her foot against a button under the desk.

In an instant, the modest-sized desk expanded, revealing multiple keyboards and additional monitors.

This was Neo-Sephara Mode—a state where her hacking skills and capabilities effectively tripled.

In this form, she had only ever been defeated once—by a mysterious hacker known only as D.

“I’m going to destroy you, Jane Smith!”

A dangerous light flashed in Sephara’s golden eyes, radiating an intent so menacing it seemed she wouldn’t stop until her target was obliterated.

But what she didn’t realize was that this wasn’t a high-stakes hacker showdown.

It was nothing more than a harmless prank by someone who had no malice.

“What? Already here?”

Static crackled across her main monitor, causing the screen to blur.

Not only that, but all nine of her sub-monitors displayed the same distorted interference.

Could they have already planted malware?

Sephara, startled, began furiously typing to set up a defensive barrier.

Then it happened—a phenomenon so surreal it left her mind blank.

“...What?”

A hand emerged from the surface of her monitor, its appearance ghostly pale, like that of a mannequin.

Suddenly, the same pale hands began protruding from all ten monitors at once.

Sephara froze in shock, unable even to scream.

What was this? It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t... real, was it?

She couldn’t close her mouth or even think rationally, paralyzed by the absurdity unfolding before her.

The hands pushed further out, inching closer to Sephara, who remained frozen in place.

Just as they reached a distance where it felt like they would jab her eyes,

they vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye, as if nothing had happened.

Was it a hallucination? Or perhaps a mental breakdown?

Still unable to move, she finally forced a few words out of her mouth after what felt like an eternity.

“This chair... was expensive.”

Feeling the damp sensation beneath her, she shut her eyes tightly and quietly wiped away her tears.

It was another day that added a humiliating black mark to her record—one she could never share with anyone.

At the same time, somewhere else, Yuria pouted as she pressed her Echo device to her forehead.

The administrator hadn’t responded despite her extended trolling.

“What? They said they’d disrupt me just once. Are they not showing up at all? They didn’t do anything dangerous, did they?”

[ ...I apologize. It seems the administrator was greatly shocked and had to step away temporarily. ]

“What did you do...? Ugh, forget it. Just delete the posts I just uploaded and create one new account for me. I’ll just lurk from now on.”

[ Understood. ]

Bye-bye, Indian Cuisine Community.

I’ll be playing in the big leagues now. Thanks for being my playground.

With that thought, Yuria logged into Pioneer with a newly created account.

This time, it wasn’t another Jane Smith—it was an anonymous username from who knows where.

And so, a legend that only a few would ever know quietly came to an end.

If it ever revived, the internet itself would surely turn into a wasteland.