Chapter 86

Chapter 86
Prior to gathering those individuals together, a particular exchange took place. Rejecting the game developer’s notification, a direct message was swiftly dispatched to T-balnom. Although his previous transmissions often read like the product of a fractured mind, the delivery of basic hygiene products had seemingly calmed him down. Beyond asking for replacement provisions when his stocks dwindled, he had remained completely silent.

Dopamine Addict: Hey.
Dopamine Addict: You alive?

The response arrived instantly.

T-balnom: What.

Even after all the careful provisions supplied to him, this individual retained absolute zero manners. Still, his prompt reply indicated a baseline understanding of gratitude.

Dopamine Addict: I’ve got something to ask you.
T-balnom: You’ve got something to ask me?
Dopamine Addict: You know anything about the Salvation Project?

Knowing he would likely refuse to deal with anyone else, the question was posed directly. The answer proved disappointing.

T-balnom: What’s that.

So recognition was entirely absent here. Was there truly no connection? Yet Shin Eun-jo had likewise displayed ignorance regarding the Salvation Project, so the inquiry continued without hesitation.

Dopamine Addict: What about Silver Fox Romance Simulation?

A brief delay preceded the reply.

T-balnom: You finally message me after ages and this is the nonsense you lead with?

Given how bizarre it would be to receive an unprompted mention of silver foxes after weeks of silence, his reaction was fair. Even so, a lingering hope remained that he possessed some insight. T-balnom had wound up in Knife, the final hidden zone that had been cleared. Considering that another erratic player had transmigrated straight into the main base of Unicorn Area, it had seemed possible that T-balnom, much like Shin Eun-jo, had landed in a hidden zone equipped with prior knowledge. Yet his thoroughly unhinged state during their initial system interaction suggested he might differ fundamentally from Shin Eun-jo. She had chosen Love Area deliberately, fully aware of her impending transmigration, which allowed her to establish a cult without losing her composure. Had T-balnom possessed similar foresight, he certainly would have avoided selecting Knife. Arriving completely blind meant he was simply a player cursed with abysmal luck.

Dopamine Addict: If you don’t know, forget it.
T-balnom: You’re just going to brush this off with “if you don’t know, forget it”?
T-balnom: Salvation Project and silver foxes… whatever.
T-balnom: You at least owe me an explanation of what the hell this is that you felt the need to ask me about it.

Anticipating dismissal and immediate disinterest, it turned out his curiosity had been unexpectedly piqued. Explaining the situation felt safe enough. The fact that the Safety Zone series originated from a company called the Salvation Project was not a secret known solely to one person. Furthermore, mentioning a title resembling Silver Fox Romance Simulation in connection with the transmigration would not be taken seriously by anyone.

Dopamine Addict: I heard the Safety Zone series wasn’t first made by Square Soft but by a game company called the Salvation Project. Figured I’d ask if you knew anything about it.
T-balnom: Never heard of Square Soft either.

What? That corporate logo had plastered the entire screen, yet he retained no memory of it?

T-balnom: I don’t play games much to begin with.
Dopamine Addict: Then you wouldn’t know otome games either.
T-balnom: Otome games?
Dopamine Addict: The Safety Zone series borrowed its setting from an otome game called Silver Fox Romance Simulation.
T-balnom: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Discovering that T-balnom shared this complete unfamiliarity with otome games evoked a strange sense of camaraderie. Seizing the moment, one final question was posed.

Dopamine Addict: You wouldn’t know anything about Cthulhu Games either, would you?
T-balnom: What’s that supposed to be.
Dopamine Addict: The company that made the otome game.
T-balnom: First I’ve heard of it.
T-balnom: So why are you asking me about any of this?
Dopamine Addict: I’m looking into whether it might be connected to our mass transmigration.
T-balnom: To our transmigration?
Dopamine Addict: If you find out anything, tell me.
T-balnom: You tell me first. Doesn’t look like you’re planning to spill everything even now.

He had caught on to the calculated restraint behind the shared details. The topic was smoothly pivoted.

Dopamine Addict: Anyway, you say you barely play games, so how did you end up starting Safety Zone? It’s a game without even a Korean patch.
T-balnom: A junior recommended it.
Dopamine Addict: A junior? Lmao were you a college student? Lmao.
T-balnom: You think I’d be a college student? Organization… no. A junior at work.

The word Organization remained glaringly visible within the chat log. He did not appear to be joking, either. This individual was undeniably eccentric in his own unique fashion.

T-balnom: Come to think of it, this name was something that junior picked for me too.
T-balnom: Do you happen to know what T-balnom means?
Dopamine Addict: It was already remarkable that someone from the twenty-first century unfamiliar with the T-balnom meme had played Safety Zone and suffered transmigration, but the junior who casually recommended the game and assigned that nickname was an entirely different entity.
Dopamine Addict: You know what MBTI is?
T-balnom: That I know.

At least basic literacy was present.

Dopamine Addict: The T is the T from MBTI.
T-balnom: And balnom?

There was no alternative but to break the harsh reality to T-balnom.

Dopamine Addict: Try pronouncing the T as a C.

Silence blanketed the chat momentarily. Following a short pause, the response came through.

T-balnom: This.
T-balnom: How the hell do I change this name?
Dopamine Addict: If it were changeable, it would be comforting to believe the Unicorn Area player simply stole the name.

Even after being informed that modification was impossible, T-balnom fell silent, likely attempting to alter his designation anyway. Roughly five minutes later, he reappeared.

T-balnom: Ha… that bastard Jo Man-wol…….

Context clues indicated that Jo Man-wol was the junior responsible for the game recommendation and the moniker. Even so, confirmation was requested.

Dopamine Addict: Jo Man-wol… that’s the junior?
Dopamine Addict: The one who recommended this game.
T-balnom: Yeah.
T-balnom: I wonder if that bastard Jo Man-wol got transmigrated here too.

T-balnom was mistaken. Whoever Jo Man-wol might be, she was not among those currently transmigrated here. She had crossed over into this game more than ten years prior, spending a lengthy duration buried in a grave ever since. Jo Man-wol. That was the name of the mother who raised me. The possibility of mere coincidence never even crossed the mind. The person who guided T-balnom to this game was none other than my mother. Perhaps… the sender of that initial message, the architect behind the mass transmigration of everyone present, might entirely trace back to her. Checking by logging out became an absolute necessity, even if it required accessing every single player’s system.

That realization explained why CornerHoney’s and Taejeong’s systems were opened today without hesitation. Even so, assisting every random player out of sheer charity was never the intent. The prerequisite for logging out explicitly demanded “opening every player’s system.” It was doubtful that individuals who were already deceased would factor into that requirement. Consequently, the strategy involved binding the systems of cooperative players while entirely purging uncooperative ones from the world. Furthermore, successfully opening the systems of bound players would empower them to gather points and accelerate the process of unlocking others. This formed the underlying logic behind asking Shin Eun-jo to bind herself—and the reason she had pulled a pistol from her coat to aim at my chest.

The weapon looked entirely familiar. It was likely the meteorite item she had extracted from Home Protector. Yet perhaps because she had previously taken a bullet on my behalf—

“Are you insane!”

The instant Shin Eun-jo leveled the firearm, CornerHoney threw himself directly into the path. That reaction demonstrated genuine admirable loyalty. While the gesture was appreciated, Shin Eun-jo had never harbored any real intention of firing.

“Good job. Now move.”
“What? Hey—!”

Shoving CornerHoney aside, Shin Eun-jo turned the weapon around, extending the grip forward after glaring down the barrel.

“I’d like to take only this much information and leave it at that. Would that be all right?”

Rather than binding herself and absorbing all available secrets, she preferred trading Home Protector’s meteorite artifact for information equivalent strictly to its value.

“I thought you didn’t want to make an enemy of me.”
“That’s true. But I have people depending on me in my own zone. I can’t choose you right this second.”

Her earlier assertion about eventually returning to her home zone had not been empty boasting. Having brought those people with her, a genuine sense of obligation remained. While it was regrettable that Shin Eun-jo could not be bound immediately for further testing, acquiring the meteorite item marked a successful compromise, prompting acceptance of the current terms.

The offered pistol was accepted from her outstretched hand. An immediate attempt to stow the object inside the inventory yielded no results. It refused to enter the storage space, presumably because ownership registration remained tied to Home Protector. The sole reason Shin Eun-jo could surrender the weapon so casually was that it never belonged to her. Returning to her territory to eliminate Home Protector would legally transfer ownership, but given the restrictions Ssapasuble had imposed on her behavior, the likelihood of slaying him strictly for property rights upon her return remained low. Regardless, actual ownership was unnecessary. Securing legal command over the meteorite item was planned for after dealing with the Unicorn Area player anyway. Fortunately, Luna had confirmed that proximity to the meteorite item alone—even lacking official ownership—was sufficient to draw upon her main body’s power. Consequently, as Shin Eun-jo suggested, information equivalent strictly to the value of the pistol would be granted.

Tucking the firearm into the coat, a final question was directed at her.

“By the way, was Home Protector behaving himself?”
“He seemed to believe you were going to come rescue him.”

Her complete lack of flinching at the mention of Home Protector signaled her awareness that her capture of him was already known. That confidence explained why she had so brazenly brandished the weapon. Still—believing rescue was imminent painted her captive as an incredible optimist. With the meteorite pistol now secured, an eventual visit to Home Protector was inevitable. Once the entrance exam concluded, a trip to Love Area would be arranged to retrieve him.

“Then it’s time to pay up.”

Pulling CornerHoney back into position after previously pushing him aside, the directive was issued.

“This one here will fill you in on the Unicorn Area player.”
“What? I thought you were going to explain.”
“What? Why do I have to explain anything!”

Ignoring CornerHoney’s outburst, a pleasant smile was offered to Shin Eun-jo.

“You didn’t seriously expect a full briefing after handing over a meteorite item that isn’t even yours, did you?”

Her expression made it abundantly clear she had hoped the ownership complication would go unnoticed.

“In exchange, I’ll allow you to take the entrance exam.”
“If permission for the entrance exam is part of the deal, then…”
“You’re free to ask CornerHoney all sorts of things from now on.”
“That… I’ll decline.”

Barely thirty minutes of acquaintance had sufficed for her to deduce that CornerHoney was entirely useless. With player-related business more or less settled, the time had arrived to launch the Military Academy’s inaugural entrance exam.