“Do you really think there could be two people like me in this world?”
A response so confident, any budding suspicion fizzled out.
Rowoon withdrew his skeptical gaze and asked,
“Well, I suppose… Yeah, having two people like you would be a problem. But what are you suddenly talking about?”
“A proposal came in. Not a public network, it’s cable, but it has decent recognition, and more importantly, the PD in charge is famous. You know PD Han?”
The program name Kang Chaheon recited was familiar.
Even Rowoon had heard of it. It was that well-known.
Once you appear in one of PD Han’s variety shows, it wasn’t a stretch to say you’d shoot to stardom.
That’s how many people wanted to be on his programs. They were in demand.
“Why would someone like that want me?”
“Technically, it’s both of us. Seems like they liked us as a pair.”
The Way Back was still cruising smoothly.
It was still showing in theaters, and Director Kim had recently announced plans for a director’s cut release.
‘Then why are no casting offers coming in?’
Public recognition and popularity had clearly grown, but outside of The Way Back’s team, evaluations from others still seemed uncertain and hesitant.
‘I should probably take this offer.’
The problem was, the format PD Han preferred was usually travel-based.
“Um… do I have to give an answer right away?”
“Not necessarily. Are you thinking of turning it down?”
You? Seriously?
That kind of unspoken disbelief practically echoed in the air…
But Rowoon had no choice.
[Do you know how hard I worked to gather these old geezers?! You’re supposed to sit tight and wait! Where do you think you’re wandering off to when the day of destiny is nearly here?!]
There was the commanding scolding of the tail-wagging water droplet to consider.
“It’s not that, it’s just… I have something going on…”
“You said you didn’t have anything lined up.”
“Well, people can still be busy, okay?”
What could possibly matter more than a life-or-death issue?
“Well, okay. I can’t lock in the schedule right away either. According to them, they’re thinking after the director’s cut is released.”
Kang Chaheon added that the timeline was generous.
Then, as if that was all he had to say, he casually stood up and dusted off his seat.
‘I always thought he was impossible to read, but when he does stuff like this… it really feels like he cares… Never mind. Stop thinking about it.’
A friend.
A presence Rowoon never had in his previous life.
He’d drifted through school due to family issues and eventually dropped out, leaving no one to call a friend.
Fellow trainees were more like rivals than friends.
Even his Garion bandmates were more like business partners than anything else.
‘No way. He couldn’t have thought something that cheesy. Yeah. Maybe he just felt sorry for me.’
Kang Chaheon was still human. He probably had some empathy.
Anyway, the offer to appear on the variety show was undeniably attractive.
Unlike acting, variety shows could reveal a more human side.
But there was something more urgent right now.
That night.
[Alright, we’ve waited long enough! All the important folks should be here by now! My baby’s lifespan is on the line here. We can’t wait any longer! I’m sure you’ve all done your prep, so the auction starts tonight!]
Cheonghwa’s final notice had been given.
The pitch-black night had settled in.
The wide house, with Rowoon alone inside, was completely quiet.
But Rowoon knew.
That countless beings were watching him from somewhere far above.
[Tsk. I need to squeeze as much out of those geezers as I can.]
Especially with a water droplet babbling and bouncing in front of his eyes, there was no room for loneliness.
“But Cheonghwa-nim, didn’t the system mention last time there was a bid cap?”
[True.]
The droplet nodded solemnly up and down.
[But it never said anything about limiting the number of bids, did it?]
“…!”
Wait. Was that even allowed?
[Hehehe. Those old fogies. I’ll always find a way. What do you think of my genius idea?]
The droplet cackled with a mischievous grin.
Clap clap!
Rowoon clapped with heartfelt sincerity.
[Ahem, yes. So you just sit tight and leave it all to me. I’ll make sure you get both the bird and the egg, alright?]
[Alright, everyone’s here, right? Let’s get this started!]
Then the long-awaited auction—no, the request submission—had begun.
‘Is this really okay?’
Rowoon wondered.
But he couldn’t say it aloud.
[This isn’t the kind of chance that comes around every day, you know? Don’t be stingy. Go big or go home!]
[Or don’t. I can just pass it to another geezer.]
[If I count to 10, the auction ends. Think carefully. When else will you get a chance to resolve all your regrets like this?]
[Alright, I’m counting. Get your bids in, geezers.]
[One—]
Ding!
Ding!
Ding ding!
Cheonghwa ran the auction like a pro. Who knows where it learned that?
And the message feed updated so fast you couldn’t even follow the conversation.
‘Well, I’ll just let them do their thing.’
Rowoon chose to observe the situation calmly.
What mattered was the request — not how it came in.
As Cheonghwa said, if he could get both the bird and the egg, that’d be enough.
[Three]
Ding!
Ding!
[Two]
Ding!
Ding ding!
[One. Done!]
Finally, the breathless competition ended.
Even though he couldn’t see them, Rowoon could feel everyone watching Cheonghwa in tense anticipation.
[Anonymous bidding for request assignment has concluded.]
The system message sounded oddly displeased—but maybe that was just his imagination.
[As a result of the bids, request #387 has been selected.]
As soon as the system alert ended—
[Starlight 387 clenches both fists and cheers in victory!]
The winning observer performed a celebration.
[The accumulated virtue will be awarded to the user upon successful completion of the request.]
‘Wait, 387?’
Compared to the usual double-digit or low triple-digit observer numbers, this was a massive jump.
‘So this is why Cheonghwa told me to wait.’
In the meantime, observer 387, now listed as the requester, cleared their throat.
A window popped up in front of Rowoon.
[You’ve received a request!]
[Do you accept?]
[Time limit: 7 days]
[Warning: Failure to complete within time limit will incur a penalty!]
The words “time limit” and “penalty” still flashed threateningly like before, but Rowoon wasn’t scared anymore.
He had over 40 days of life remaining.
‘Last time, the request only showed after I touched the scenario. Maybe the method changes depending on the request?’
Rowoon calmly accepted.
The window updated immediately.
As he slowly read it, he thought:
‘This one seems easy.’
That thought didn’t last even an hour.
“What’s the name again?”
[Starlight (requester) says he’s the 48th-generation descendant of the Andong Seo clan.]
This kind of research wasn’t that hard.
Family trees, even of others, were surprisingly well-documented online.
It helped that the person in question came from a prominent family.
The problem was…
“Is it really this person…?”
[Starlight (requester) squints at the photo and studies it carefully!]
[Starlight (requester) nods, saying he’s sure it’s his descendant!]
The response was positive, but Rowoon’s expression grew serious.
‘I thought it’d be a simple delivery task…’
But the person who was supposed to receive the message was anything but simple.
Rowoon stared at the name listed as the 48th-generation descendant of the Andong Seo clan:
Seo Yang-cheol.
More important than the name was the career listed in the bio:
[Second Chairman of Taewoon Group]
Just reading it made the difficulty skyrocket.
‘No chance it’s just someone with the same name, right…?’
The requester had directly confirmed it.
Sigh…
A deep breath escaped him.
[Request: Deliver a message to the 48th-generation descendant of the Andong Seo clan]
[In today’s harsh society, deliver the message of the ancestor who has appeared in a dream to an ignorant descendant who doesn’t recognize their own forebear.]
[Reward: ????]
At first glance, it seemed like a simple message delivery.
But the recipient being a corporate chairman made the task suddenly monumental.
‘How the heck am I supposed to approach someone like this?’
The 7 days he once thought was generous now felt short.
Sigh…
Rowoon sighed even deeper.
[Can’t you just handle family stuff yourself? My baby’s stressing out here!]
[Starlight (requester) insists they earned the request fairly!]
[Hah… So that’s why this geezer’s virtue was overflowing. He’s got a powerful descendant!]
[Starlight (requester) declares with pride they’re guilt-free and demands the request be fulfilled!]
“Excuse me, both of you. I have a headache, so could you be quiet for a moment…?”
They had blown up the situation so much.
Who could’ve predicted this side effect?
‘Maybe I should’ve stopped it earlier.’
They say with great power comes great responsibility.
He didn’t think it applied this way, but now he knew better.
[Think it’s too hard? What should we do? It’s not like I can twist that geezer’s arm…]
Cheonghwa paced nervously nearby.
And the content of the message wasn’t helping.
Anyone would think it was straight-up cult talk.
‘If I’m not labeled a crazy person, that’ll be lucky…’
The message the requester wanted delivered?
“How am I supposed to tell someone to move their ancestor’s grave?!”
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