Not replying turned out to be the correct response.
At the same time, Rowoon couldn’t help thinking,
What on earth was the previous owner of this body like that he’d dare act so horribly toward someone like that?
Did he have a death wish?
Or was there some other reason?
“Well, fine. Frankly, I don’t really care. As long as you keep up that stance—whether it’s real or just another whim—it doesn’t matter to me. Anyway, thanks to you, I ended up sending out personal requests and had quite the novel experience myself.”
If he said “Thank you” here, he’d come across as clueless.
Sensing that, Rowoon kept quiet, though he was a bit puzzled.
Strange? He said it’s his first time doing requests like that? Then how did the previous owner land those roles?
The answer soon became clear.
“You used to whine that you hated living here, clinging to your older brother’s coattails day after day. Seeing you go so far now, I guess you really plan to do this for real?”
“…Yes. That’s right.”
Even as he answered, Rowoon’s thoughts buzzed with confusion, all triggered by the sudden mention of family.
An older brother? So he has siblings? A family?
Obviously, if this body didn’t fall straight from the sky, he had to have relatives.
Still, something felt off.
His phone had no family contacts. And there’s been no sign of them either.
It had already been a week since Rowoon woke up.
Amnesia isn’t something you can just shrug off like a mild cold; surely that’s serious news a family would be informed of. Yet for a full week, no one had contacted him.
So he does have family, but they haven’t called… and now there’s mention of an older brother?
Could his original family be as estranged as Rowoon’s own?
I guess I just have rotten luck with family.
The president’s words only made it more confusing.
Ugh, I’ll think about that later.
For now, what mattered was dealing with the boss in front of him.
Surely he hadn’t called Rowoon here just to test him.
“All right. I don’t know what finally made you change your mind, but hey—better than being hopeless forever. Do your best, even if the set won’t be easy.”
He wrapped up neatly, no telling how much he actually believed. Then he brought up what he’d really wanted to say.
“Kim Seong-ha got in touch.”
A faint smile softened the chilly look on his face. The boss then drove his point home to Rowoon, who was standing there stiff with nerves:
“You passed.”
He’d been hoping, but hearing the confirmation out loud was another matter entirely.
“What’d the boss say?” the manager asked Rowoon as soon as he came out, looking dazed.
“Is it official? You got in?”
“Yeah… They said I passed. The audition.”
“For real? Really?”
“Yeah…!”
“Awesome! See? I told you that if you put your mind to it, you’d succeed!”
The manager’s eyes went misty with tears.
“Hyung… Are you crying?”
Rowoon was startled. If anyone should be crying with joy, shouldn’t it be him?
“Sob… I feel like garbage…”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’ve found myself wishing you’d never get your memories back—actually hoping your amnesia wouldn’t improve… So I’m sorry about that, but at the same time I’m so happy now…”
The manager was kindhearted in a strange way.
“If there are better days still ahead, why cry already, Hyung?”
Besides, Rowoon’s amnesia was never going to resolve itself. Of course, he couldn’t say that, so he simply soothed the manager, calling on all the experience he’d once used to keep bandmates from going off the deep end.
Anyway, at least now I’m not in immediate danger of dying.
He sighed in relief as they pulled up at his place. After dropping him off, the manager hesitated, apparently wanting to say something. Then, with a look of firm resolve, he spoke:
“Hey, Rowoon. Should we celebrate or something today? Y’know, throw a party? Invite your friends? I could reserve whatever place you used to go…”
“N-no!”
Rowoon waved his hands in alarm. So that’s what he’d been stewing over.
“No?”
“Yeah, no. A party? This is only the beginning.”
He had no idea who these “friends” were or what kind of places he used to frequent, but he had more than enough instincts and big-data gleaned from life experience.
If I get all excited and go nuts now, it’ll be a disaster.
He’d rather not know how he was so sure, but everything about the word “party” gave him a bad vibe. He pictured going and winding up on the front page under some scandal. This was precisely the time to be modest and cautious, especially if he was trying to overhaul the trashy image the old owner left behind.
“…Seriously?” the manager asked skeptically.
“Hyung, I’ll have plenty of bigger milestones in the future. Isn’t it kind of underwhelming to celebrate already? I should at least snag an Oscar or something for a real party.”
He definitely didn’t want to sabotage his own future by partying too soon. But the manager’s intentions were sincere, and Rowoon appreciated it. He rambled out any random excuse he could think of, though the notion of winning an Oscar at the baby-steps audition stage was laughable.
Still, for some reason, it struck a chord with the manager.
“Right! No point partying over something like this—there’ll be loads of better days ahead!”
Translation: My kid’s changed, folks.
The downside was that it brought fresh tears to the manager’s eyes.
“You’ve been thinking about your future all along, and here I was…! Sob…!”
He eventually stopped crying.
Just how awful was the old me that my manager’s reaction gets more dramatic by the day?
A week had passed, but the difference only grew starker. Regardless, Rowoon managed to calm him down with his years of crisis-handling experience.
“That aside… I passed the audition, so the quest system should do something, right?”
Rowoon eyed the quest board that read “System under maintenance.” Right on cue:
Ding!
A welcome alert appeared, as though it had been waiting for him.
[System patch complete.]
[System maintenance is now concluded.]
[Would you like to view the patch notes?]
Rowoon tapped “Yes,” and the window changed again.
[System Patch Notes v1.0.0] [- A “Completion Rate” section has been added to the quest log.]
[Completion Rate: While the quest is in progress, all penalties against user “Lee Rowoon” are paused or delayed.]
[- “Quest Selection Criteria” has been refined and expanded.]
[Only quests within a certain radius are activated.]
[An anonymous bidding format is introduced.]
[Bidding now has an upper limit.]
[- A “Quest Completion Feedback” section is established.]
[Based on the requester’s evaluation of the user’s performance, a completion grade is assigned.]
[An additional “Feedback Survey” has been added to that evaluation page.]
Rowoon blinked.
“That’s… quite a bit.”
After scanning the patch notes, Rowoon called Cheong-Hwa—who should know best about the system.
“Cheong-Hwa, the patch notes just came up.”
[Oh, finally?]
In response to Rowoon’s summons, Cheong-Hwa emerged, flitting over from the sink drainboard—where he’d been taking a “bath.” The sight of a water droplet bathing was odd, but by now Rowoon was used to it. For some reason, Cheong-Hwa liked clear water.
[So what’d it say? You’re not about to die, right?]
“No. But…”
[Huh? There’s something else?]
“It says they added a ‘quest selection criterion’ and a ‘feedback’ section. Do you know what that’s about?”
[Well…]
Cheong-Hwa trailed off, as if speechless for a moment, producing some foamy bubbles.
[First of all, you do know you’ve got a lot of watchers, right?]
“Yeah.”
Of course. He’d seen messages popping up from various Starlights.
[Because of that, there was a lot of grumbling. Last time I had to mediate. So they introduced more equitable rules to keep things balanced.]
He went on to explain:
[So basically, they filter by a certain radius around you first, then do an anonymous, sealed bidding to pick the “requester,” and…]
“…”
In short, it sounded like a complicated behind-the-scenes flurry.
[You just do your best. Those old codgers aren’t completely unreasonable— they’ll handle it. They know what’s at stake. They aren’t foolish enough to kill the golden-egg-laying goose, so no worries.]
With that, Rowoon, who had become the “goose,” nodded silently. In any case, it seemed to benefit him.
The system patch notification vanished, replaced by a new system message:
[Additional system patches may occur based on your quest performance.]
[We look forward to your continued use, “Lee Rowoon.”]
“Quest performance? So that’s different from completion rate?”
Maybe it depended on how he ended the quest, or in what manner.
Anyway, all I have to do is keep doing my part, Rowoon recalled Cheong-Hwa saying.
He was curious, but to see more, he first had to finish this quest successfully.
He decided to check the new “Completion Rate” feature.
[Current Completion Rate: 34%]
“Oh, that’s higher than I expected.”
Apparently passing the audition had boosted it significantly, proof that Rowoon’s chosen path wasn’t wrong. He’d conquered that huge milestone, giving him a legitimate ticket to stay close to Director Kim Seong-ha.
“I need to stick to the director as much as possible.”
Sure, the quest details were still vague, but being nearby would let him find a solution.
He made up his mind firmly. Then, that very night:
<Hello, Mr. Lee Rowoon?>
A message arrived from Director Kim Seong-ha.
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