From the moment he first started digging through the phone, Rowoon had a bad feeling.
But he never imagined it would be this terrible.
“Rowoon? Promise me you won’t misunderstand—and just hear me out calmly, okay?”
His manager chose his words with extreme caution.
“You see, I really respect how hard you’re trying to act. Who cares about the method? The fact you want to act at all shows you’re serious about it!”
Seeing how painstakingly and compassionately the manager was trying to console him, Rowoon decided not to press him any further. He didn’t want to torment this kindhearted person.
At this rate, his reputation in the industry must be at rock bottom.
He didn’t even need to ask to figure that out.
What puzzled him was how someone with such terrible acting skills had managed to appear in so many productions.
Did he get those roles because he’s rich? But where would that money come from? I’ve heard that having lots of SNS followers can be profitable, but his feed doesn’t really look like it’s carrying ads or anything.
If anything, his social media looked more like a show-off extravaganza, flaunting how much money he could burn. If someone tried to suggest a sponsored post, you could almost picture him indignantly refusing to clutter his feed with such trash.
So it’s probably… his family, then?
Hoping to steer the conversation around, Rowoon decided to ask something that had come to mind:
“Oh, right—Hyung, I have another question. What about my family? I looked through my phone, but there’s no one in there labeled as a relative. I mean, a doctor came all this way for me, yet no one else contacts me? It’s got me curious.”
“Ah… your family, huh…”
At least this time the manager’s eyes didn’t quake like an earthquake.
But still—
“Well, I’m not too sure… You always hated talking about your family. Oh, but maybe the boss would know. He handled your contract personally. You joined the agency when you were still underage, so… yeah, maybe he knows. Want me to check?”
Sadly, there was nothing really useful there.
“No, it’s fine. I’m not that curious.”
If the original body’s owner had hidden his family on purpose, there must have been a reason.
What if their relationship is a total mess?
When it came to family matters, Rowoon’s own situation was complicated enough. If he stirred up trouble for no reason—
Yeah. He didn’t even like talking about it, so let’s leave it for now.
Figuring out who may or may not be on good terms with him wasn’t a priority right now.
What mattered most was finding out how to accumulate this so-called “merit” so he could avoid dying.
Time passed, and night settled in.
Then—
Ding!
[D-7]
That popped up.
Along with a cryptic message:
[The countdown has begun.]
Rowoon felt an instinctive chill.
I need to do something fast or I’m screwed.
He hadn’t even felt this uneasy back when his group members caused all that chaos.
Compared to this, that felt like nothing.
“Rowoon, are you sure you’ll be okay if I leave? I mean, you’re here alone, and you lost your memory. Maybe I should stay with you for the night…”
Seeing the strange, unidentified countdown appear, Rowoon’s first move was to send his manager away.
“I’ll be fine. You need rest too, Hyung. I’m in one piece; there’s no reason to worry.”
His mind was reeling over that bizarre notification, but outwardly he kept calm.
“Are you sure? Look, I don’t mind crashing here for one night if you need me. Unless… Wait a minute…”
But the manager suddenly looked suspicious, as if something had crossed his mind. Then only for a moment:
“Nah. He’s never made weird excuses to get me to leave so I could rest. And he’s never spoken so politely. If he wanted me gone, it’s not like he’d care about the schedule anyway. Though there wasn’t much of a schedule in the first place…”
Muttering, he shook his head, thinking aloud:
“And it’s not like he’s some genius at acting either. He used to flip out the minute a doctor showed up—no way this is just an act….”
“…?”
“Oh! Right, he’s not smart enough to scheme like that in the first place. Ugh, guess I’m overthinking this.”
“…”
Rowoon was already half-crazed with anxiety over the mysterious countdown. Still, hearing all that was a bit of a shock.
Is he insulting me or complimenting me? It kind of sounds like he trusts me, but… the content’s a bit off…
Just how terrible was this body’s original owner to make the manager’s opinion so harsh?
“All right, I’ll head home. The doc said avoiding stress is important for you.”
“Thank… you?”
“…Wow. You lost your memory, and now you’re thanking me. Maybe amnesia isn’t all bad…”
Manager-hyung, you do realize you’re saying all that out loud, right?
He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but at least he left in the end.
“Something about that is really ominous,” Rowoon muttered.
Alone in the big, quiet house, he chewed on his thumbnail while pacing in circles.
“In novels and movies, that usually means ‘You have seven days left to live…’ or something like that.”
All the crises and rumors he’d faced through his group’s mishaps had honed his sense of impending doom, and it was screaming at him now.
Worse, he remembered Cheong-Hwa’s final clue before vanishing: “the price.”
Just hearing that word gave him a profound sense of danger.
Usually, you accumulate merit by doing good deeds, right? That’s what folktales teach us.
Or maybe something religious?
Unfortunately, Rowoon had no religion. He found himself wishing he did. The body’s original owner, from the looks of it, was lucky not to be worshipping the devil or something—even that seemed questionable.
Wait, what about donating money?
It’s said that money can even buy you a get-out-of-jail card, right?
The problem: the original owner apparently had no money.
How did Rowoon know? He’d stumbled onto evidence he really wished he hadn’t seen.
Hard to believe someone living in this massive, upscale place, decked out in designer clothes, with a fridge full of expensive liquor, could be broke.
He wasn’t literally at zero, but pretty close.
Just how on earth had this person been paying for all this?
Is there another way?
He circled around the house several times, biting his nails.
It was good the manager had left, or he’d have seen Rowoon wandering around like a madman—kneeling, throwing his arms up at the sky, pounding the floor and wailing, then getting up to pace and chew his nails some more…
“Cheong-Hwa! This is no time for sleeping!”
“System!”
“Status window!”
He yelled all sorts of weird stuff; anyone watching would’ve thought he’d gone insane.
Maybe his desperation reached somewhere, because—
Ding!
“Huh?”
A crisp alert rang out, and an unexpected message appeared.
[Multiple Starlights are now observing your actions!]
“…What?”
He worried it might be the countdown ticking faster, but no—
‘Starlights?’
And then, before he could think further:
[Several Starlights have begun to watch you!]
[Due to a difference in rank, a filter will be applied.]
Another alert popped up. For some reason, he felt this uncanny sensation of being stared at.
‘Starlights? Up there, maybe?’
Cheong-Hwa had hinted about “cosmic secrets,” so was it really some kind of heavenly beings?
As Rowoon tilted his head up at the sky—
Ding!
A pure, resonant sound seemed to echo across the entire world.
[Starlight #1 has entered.]
[Starlight #2 has entered.]
[Starlight #3 has entered.]
…
The notifications kept rolling upward with no end in sight.
Rowoon had a hunch:
This is it.
He had finally found the clue he’d been desperately searching for.
Rowoon’s mind whirled.
Could these “folks” be the people Cheong-Hwa mentioned?
No way he’d let go of such a golden lead.
Before he died, he’d drifted through life like a piece of floating weed. But having narrowly escaped death, his will to live was now fiercer than ever.
So he asked, “Are you the ones who created this system?”
If his manager saw him talking to thin air, he might keel over from shock, so it was good Rowoon had sent him away.
And to his surprise—
[Some of the Starlights seem troubled by your question!]
He actually got a response.
[One of the Starlights is clearing their throat loudly!]
[Another Starlight is eyeing you warily!]
[Another Starlight shouts: ‘This sys@#!% #$%#!’]
So apparently there’s some taboo on answering directly?
No firm reply came, but Rowoon got the hint.
He had countless questions, but there was one pressing issue:
“Does anyone here know what this countdown is all about?”
[Most of the Starlights fall silent.]
The flood of messages vanished, as if they were all quietly watching him, unsure who should speak first.
Then—
[Starlight #51 gently suggests you examine your surroundings more carefully.]
That particular message caught his eye.
“Check my surroundings?”
He instantly sensed it was a hint.
Nothing to lose by trying, Rowoon began searching again.
Well, I already turned the bedroom, dressing room, and kitchen upside down, so it must mean somewhere else.
No way they’d send him back to check a place he’d already searched.
The problem was, the house was massive.
I’ll just have to search it all.
A penthouse spread over two floors, with a spacious rooftop garden on top of it all. Finding something hidden wouldn’t be easy, but time was ticking.
Rowoon hurried off in a rush.
He couldn’t help wondering:
Is this really a hint…?
He had only seven days left.
Every minute counted.
After flipping the entire house upside down for hours, Rowoon was starting to lose faith.
[Starlight #51 is cheering you on!]
“…Instead of cheering, can you give me something else?”
[Starlight #51 looks at you forlornly.]
It seemed these lofty beings in the sky were under all sorts of restrictions.
And in the meantime—
[D-6]
When the clock struck midnight, the countdown ticked down by one.
So I really do only have a week…
Not that he wanted confirmation in such a grim way.
“I’ve been searching for five hours, you know! Are you sure there’s something here?”
[Starlight #51 encourages you to keep trying a little longer!]
“…”
Could he really trust them?
These were supposedly special heavenly beings.
But they’re giving me the impression of a tiny sparrow flitting around in a panic…
Rowoon swallowed his growing doubts. The proverb “the hurrier you go, the behinder you get” came to mind.
In any case, there was just one place left:
The study.
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