Chapter 129: Fate - (2)
In both his past life and his present one.
Sanghyun preferred being alone.
Except for ‘that time,’ which remained as a sorrowful memory, Sanghyun had always been used to solitude.
However.
‘This kind of warmth isn’t so bad.’
Hearing voices in his usually quiet home was a rather new yet enjoyable experience.
It was—how should he put it?
If he were to ever get married or be in a relationship, this might be the kind of moment that would feel the best.
Just the fact of being together, that alone was enough to bring happiness—that was also the power of love.
“Just take a quick taste and give me some feedback, then I’ll head right back down. It seemed like you were resting.”
Do Kyunghye fidgeted.
At a glance, it felt like she had mustered a lot of courage to come to Sanghyun’s house.
If it had been the younger Sanghyun in his past life, he wouldn’t have even noticed.
But now, as an old fox, Sanghyun could tell.
Do Kyunghye was making an effort to create a connection with him.
It could be curiosity, or it could be affection. Sanghyun didn’t particularly care, but perhaps she did.
“I was resting, sure, but I’m not so tired that I’d turn away a guest. And I’m hungry too! Let’s eat together?”
“Do you have rice…?”
“I’ve got rice that’ll be ready in three minutes.”
Sanghyun smiled.
The only time he ever cooked was when there was no food available inside a dungeon.
Otherwise, cooking was one of the things he hated the most at home. It just felt like a waste of time.
When Do Kyunghye glanced around, she noticed that his space was indeed filled only with instant meals.
“It might not taste that great. Maybe I was too confident bringing it over? I suddenly feel embarrassed.”
“I’ll eat it and give a brutally honest review!”
And so, the two of them began their intimate meal.
The preparation was done in an instant.
Two large bowls were placed on the spacious island dining table.
Rice was added to the bowls, and an appropriate amount of curry was poured over them.
Sanghyun simply scooped up a spoonful, eating it as it was.
But Do Kyunghye meticulously mixed the curry into the rice, making sure it was evenly coated.
“If nothing else, we’re definitely different in this aspect. Our tastes are completely opposite.”
“Kekeke. I know, right? I was caught off guard for a moment.”
The corners of Do Kyunghye’s lips curled up.
Since her lips naturally had an upturned shape, her smile looked especially beautiful.
After taking his first bite and savoring the taste of the curry, Sanghyun nodded in approval.
“Was the black pepper your choice?”
“Yes, I like black pepper a lot.”
“It’s just the right level of spice for me. It’s delicious. I also feel like you finely mashed tuna into it?”
“That’s right! I really like the distinct flavor of canned tuna.”
“If you were selling this, I’d buy it often. It’s seriously good. I’m not just saying that.”
“Really?”
“I don’t lie just to be polite. I’m also terrible at pretending bad food tastes good.”
“I’m relieved. Haha.”
“Thanks for the meal! I think I’m going to enjoy this lunch.”
Sanghyun began eating with gusto. Good food deserved to be eaten enthusiastically.
As they ate, they talked about many things.
Maybe because of their previous conversation, the words flowed easily, as if they were old friends.
As their casual chat deepened, Do Kyunghye changed the subject.
“Sanghyun.”
“Yes?”
“The dungeon you mentioned last time—it’s still valid, right?”
“It is. If nothing else, dungeons and gates are more important to me than my own life.”
“Actually, there’s a gate I plan to tackle soon. I got approval for it, and I had a team before.”
“The fact that you said ‘had’ instead of ‘have’ means it’s past tense. What happened?”
“I decided to disband it. No matter how I looked at it, I felt the team composition was inefficient.”
“Well, forming and breaking teams is entirely up to personal choice. It doesn’t seem like an issue.”
“The conclusion is simple. I want to team up with you, Sanghyun—if you’re okay with it.”
Do Kyunghye’s face turned red like a young girl confessing for the first time.
It wasn’t even a real confession, just an invitation to tackle a gate together, yet it seemed incredibly embarrassing for her.
She added,
“To be honest, at our current level, I worry that I’ll just be a burden on you.”
“Don’t worry about that! I’ll accept your offer no matter what. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up!”
There was no reason to refuse.
Considering her level, the gate they’d be tackling would likely be just the right challenge for Sanghyun.
“It’s the first clear attempt, though. Are you sure? Multiple teams have already tried and failed before us.”
“That just makes me want to go even more.”
“Quick thinking and adaptability are the most important aspects there. I don’t want to bring just anyone.”
“Sounds good. Let’s do it!”
Now, he had a compelling reason to go.
First-clear rewards existed, didn’t they?
Even if he had no time or space for it, he had to find a way to go.
‘Connections really are important. Just by getting to know Do Kyunghye, I got an unexpected opportunity.’
He reaffirmed the importance of building relationships with skilled players.
“I’ll organize all the related materials and send them over. I’ll also confirm the exact raid date and get back to you.”
“Great. I’ll study it thoroughly, and we’ll make sure to clear it!”
Clenching both fists, Sanghyun’s expression was more determined than ever.
Rather than feeling burdened by the term ‘first-clear rewards,’ he focused on the excitement and challenge ahead.
Not getting bogged down in negativity and prioritizing the positives!
That had always been Sanghyun’s way of managing his mentality.
Worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet only led to unnecessary anxiety.
The time was shifting from afternoon to evening—one of the laziest times of the day.
Thanks to Do Kyunghye’s delicious curry, Sanghyun had devoured two full bowls of rice and was now lying in bed, resting.
Just then.
Shin Yunhyuk contacted him.
The message contained proof of his dungeon run, along with videos he had meticulously recorded during training.
Technically, Sanghyun could have just pretended to watch or skimmed through it half-heartedly.
But instead, he washed his drowsiness away with cold water and carefully reviewed the videos Shin Yunhyuk had sent.
Looking at Shin Yunhyuk, it felt exactly like looking at his past self.
He had been the same back then.
Desperate to receive even a little bit of advice from skilled players.
But the proud ones didn’t even want to exchange words with him.
To them, Sanghyun was nothing more than a mere bottom-tier player.
Would you even understand if I told you?
You and I live in different worlds. Why should I care about matters from another world?
You’re of no help to me. What benefit do I get from telling you? Are you going to pay me?
These were the contemptuous remarks he had heard so many times that they felt hammered into his ears.
Even now, just thinking about it made his anger surge—an unpleasant fragment of his past life he’d rather forget.
Tap, tap.
Sanghyun was about to type out feedback in a message but changed his mind.
Instead of text, it seemed better to convey his thoughts through conversation and visual information.
<Yes, hyungnim!>
“I watched all the videos.”
<I'm sorry! You must be busy, and I sent a flood of videos without considering your time.>
“If you were worried about that, would you have sent them like that? Never mind. I’ll give you feedback and show you the proper stance, so watch.”
<Yes, understood! Thank you so much, hyungnim!>
Shin Yunhyuk repeatedly bowed, his waist nearly breaking as he expressed his gratitude to Sanghyun. Was it really that great?
Sanghyun let out a laugh that Yunhyuk couldn't see and demonstrated the motion in slow motion.
“When performing a continuous attack, look. From a third-person perspective, your movement looks exactly like this. What do you think?”
“Correct. You might want to excuse it as a choice for more aggressive swordsmanship, but this is a dangerous stance.”
<Ah…>
“Watch carefully. Your lower body, especially your knees—observe what degree of bending is the most ideal.”
Thus began Sanghyun’s intensive tutoring.
In truth, he wasn’t teaching anything groundbreaking—just fundamentals that were often overlooked.
The phrase ‘fundamentals are important’ is universal in any field.
However, finding someone who truly adheres to that principle is rare because it's so easy to overlook.
‘As long as I point him in the right direction, Shin Yunhyuk will grow on his own.’
Sanghyun was certain of it.
There was no need to teach him any of Sanghyun’s secrets or sword techniques.
Shin Yunhyuk had his own style, and as long as he had a good guide, he would naturally refine it.
After the short but precise lesson ended—
<Thank you! Really, thank you, hyungnim!>
“If you send me another video and you’re making the same mistake, I’ll take it as you ignoring my advice from now on.”
<Of course! I completely understand! I’ll practice again myself and report back!>
“Alright, good work.”
Sanghyun ended the call with an indifferent expression. He acted nonchalant, but in reality, he cared quite a bit.
He just didn’t want Shin Yunhyuk to get overly excited from his attention, so he put on an act.
“Now I really should get some rest.”
Now, He turned off his smartphone.
No matter who tried to contact him, he wouldn’t even know they had.
Sliding completely under his blanket, Sanghyun shut his eyes tightly.
He only intended to rest his eyes for a moment, but, like a stubborn child, his mind grew even clearer.
“Damn it.”
He almost cursed.
Something had suddenly come to mind.
Quest Stone.
Back when Sanghyun encountered Kim Miso in a quest area, he had once thought—
What would happen if he ate a Quest Stone?
Since Quest Stones were also treated as artifacts, it was technically possible for Sanghyun to consume one.
However, they were too expensive to eat on a whim out of curiosity.
Quest Stones were strictly managed by the association, and even the cheapest stone cost over 300 billion won.
“If I eat one, would I be able to generate quests myself? I’m really curious.”
He had no prior experience with it, so he couldn’t even estimate the outcome.
Theoretically, his assumption was correct.
Quest Stones facilitated ‘missions’ believed to be bestowed by the Celestials.
So if he consumed a stone, there was a high probability that its function would be triggered within him.
“One day, I’ll eat a Quest Stone. I might even get one as a dungeon drop.”
Since it was an unanswerable hypothesis, Sanghyun put the thought aside.
Instead, during his contemplation of Quest Stones, another memory naturally surfaced.
“Blood Tower. That quest seems worth attempting. The rewards should be lucrative.”
It was a memory about one of the most infamous quests—the Blood Tower quest.
The more people died inside, the greater the rewards and difficulty—a truly horrific quest.
Even now, players around the world were likely dying inside it.
That meant the rewards must be piling up nicely.
The most sinister rewards, built upon the blood and tears of countless victims.