“……”
[……]
No matter how many anonymous communities or social media platforms I searched, it was always the same when it came to Secreti and Yeon Yu-jin.
If there was at least some interest, that would’ve been a relief.
But most people didn’t even know who Secreti was. And those who did know them? Nearly all of them were bashing Yeon Yu-jin.
Despite being a rookie, he was criticized for his lazy, irritable attitude. Zero stage presence, negative one hundred for fan service.
The handful of fans he did have were outraged over his miserable live performances and vented their fury in the comments.
The most popular post about Secreti online was this:
***
Yeon Yu-jin, LEAVE THE GROUP.
I don’t have time to go protest solo in person.
(Attached: protest banner photo)
[Comments]
⤷ Lol omg 🤣
⤷ What a drama queen.
⤷ YJ saw this and went “bleeuuurgh?”
⤷ Thanks, Yu-jin. I’m not even surprised anymore.
⤷ At this point, shouldn’t he step down just out of embarrassment?
⤷ YJ’s dragging the other members down. What did they do to deserve this?
⤷ He’s a Guide, right? Just send him to work in the dungeons—might suit him better than idol life.
…See more…
***
“This is wild.”
[Almost terrifying.]
The online image of Yeon Yu-jin was downright catastrophic. Even Secreti’s tiny fanbase was praying for him to leave the group.
Reading the comments—full of spite, mockery, and scorn—made my stomach churn, and I wasn’t even the real Yu-jin.
No wonder that brat punched me the second he saw me awake.
Ra Ho-yeon—that was his name, right? That brat Esper who’s also a member of Secreti.
It was obvious from his eyes that he had a ton of pent-up frustration toward Yu-jin. The others didn’t seem any better, either.
All four Espers on the team exuded open hostility toward Yeon Yu-jin, the sole Guide.
Even if they didn’t outright attack like Ra Ho-yeon, their casually disrespectful way of speaking showed they looked down on him.
Though honestly, that seems like a separate issue from Yu-jin being the team’s problem child.
After ten years in the military, surrounded by ability users, I had no trouble spotting shady types.
Did Yu-jin really start off apathetic? That, I’d need to look into more deeply.
Anyway.
“No need to dig further. Yu-jin’s totally screwed.”
[Then what do we do…?]
“There’s no way I can get stronger with the little money he had.”
I said lazily, sprawled out on the hospital bed, and Potato’s sprout visibly wilted.
[A-Are you giving up already?!]
“Of course not.”
There was a way.
“It’s just… whether I can use that method is the problem.”
[What is it?]
“The money I saved up by grinding through dungeon closings back when I was Ahn Ga-hyun.”
That untouched fortune, sitting safely in the special vault meant for ability users, could lift me out of poverty.
Espers and Guides who tackled dungeon gates constantly risked death, and so the government paid them danger compensation—lump sums, no less.
The payouts were so substantial that, in some cases, greedy family members even killed the ability user to get the cash.
To prevent that, the government commissioned the Ability Users’ Association to create a discreet vault system, accessible only by the user.
Back then, I couldn’t leave the front lines, so that money was just rotting in the vault… But now I was alive again. And I needed it.
In the early days, a lot of Espers and Guides had lost their relatives to war. So people worried: if an ability user died, wouldn’t their savings just go back to the government?
To prevent backlash, the government clarified that if no family came forward for 20 years after the user’s death, then and only then would the funds be reclaimed into the national treasury.
“This year marks exactly 20 years since I died.”
[Gasp! Then you’ve gotta get to that vault now! Before the government swipes it back!]
“I want to.”
Unfortunately, Yeon Yu-jin and Ahn Ga-hyun were complete strangers.
Different surnames, no connection whatsoever. Even back when the world was at peace, I never heard of any relatives with the surname Yeon.
The Ability Users’ Association required at least a sixth-degree relative to qualify as a ‘surviving family member.’
If you didn’t meet that requirement, even knowing where the vault was wouldn’t help—you couldn’t get inside.
“If I try to force my way into Ahn Ga-hyun’s vault, the vault’s defense mechanisms would probably fry me alive.”
And with the fragile, downright pitiful body of Yeon Yu-jin—who was only a D-rank Guide—it might literally kill me.
There was no way I was wasting my hard-won second life like that.
[So… what do we do now?]
“Well… there’s only one option left in times like this.”
[What is it?!]
Potato looked up at me with wide, sparkling eyes.
“Shut up and charge.”
[WHAAAT?!]
***
With Potato side-eyeing me suspiciously, I calmly began planning my way out.
“I want to go out for a bit, Manager-hyung.”
“…Huh?”
First, I had to get permission from Kim Hyun-soo, my manager.
He was listed as Yeon Yu-jin’s guardian at the hospital, and I knew he reported everything I did to the CEO and director.
“I’ll be back soon. You know I’ve been recovering really fast, considering how bad the accident was, right?”
“Well… yeah, that’s true.”
Maybe it was because Potato—my ‘Resurrection’ ability—had returned to me, but Yu-jin’s body was healing at a miraculous rate. Even the doctors were amazed.
Honestly, my body’s practically back to normal. I was healthy enough to go out and move around.
“Why do you want to go out?”
He’s worried I’ll cause trouble, huh.
Kim Hyun-soo, who’d been peeling fruit and bringing me meals, seemed like a genuinely good guy—but he still drew a clear line when it came to work.
It was like he’d been ordered not to let me cause any incidents. He visited every day to monitor my condition—he took it seriously.
Guess it’s lucky I’m a failed idol with no schedule. That gave me the perfect excuse to make time for myself. Ironic.
“I just… wanted to visit my late mother’s columbarium. Even if it’s just for a bit.”
“…Ah.”
Sentimental softie that he was, Manager Hyun-soo’s face immediately reacted. He couldn’t hide the pity and sympathy in his expression.
“I almost died. And… I lost my memory, too. So I really want to see my mom. I can’t remember her right now, but… maybe if I visit, something will come back.”
I even threw in the touching line about wanting to regain my memories, and he finally caved.
“Well… I can’t stop you if it’s for that.”
“Really? So I can go?”
“I’ll call the CEO and Director first. If they say yes, then you can head out.”
“Thank you!”
Too easy.
Everything was going according to plan.
I’d spent the last few days eating, sleeping, and behaving like a model patient.
After he brought me food or snacks, I’d eavesdrop as he snuck over to the stairwell to make secret status reports over the phone.
Since I’d been lying low, his expression had brightened, and his phone conversations didn’t seem particularly negative either.
And now, when I pleaded to go visit my dead mom? What Korean wouldn’t be moved by that?
A few calls later…
“…The CEO said yes.”
Hell yeah!
“Thank you!”
“She approved it, but she still wants you to prioritize recovery. So you need to be back by this evening—before the sun sets.”
“Yes, of course.”
That was a ridiculously easy condition—I had no trouble agreeing.
Even though the columbarium I’d mentioned would’ve taken hours round trip, the vault I was actually going to was located not far from downtown.
Back when they announced they were setting up vaults for ability users in the middle of Seoul instead of near their work zones, I screamed bloody murder… and yet here we are. Life really is unpredictable.
At the time, I thought it was just another trick from the government to avoid paying us properly—but now, I was grateful.
Thanks to that, I only had to ride a few subway stops to get where I needed to go.
I brought Potato in a crossbody bag, so I wasn’t lonely. And thanks to the pocket money Manager Hyun-soo gave me, I wouldn’t go hungry either.
“Let’s see… where was it again? Ah! There it is!”
