Chapter 1: A New Story

I declare.

The genre of South Korea is punk.

I will not accept any objections.

This is a conclusion I reached after long contemplation.

Why is South Korea cyberpunk?

Once you understand the punk genre, you’ll automatically understand.

What is punk?

Picture this:

A world where science and technology, like magic, have developed so much that human dignity becomes less valuable than a banknote.

A world where intangible values like love, religion, and truth are not even worth joking about.

Stories set in such a world are called punk genre stories.

A dystopia where steam engines have developed is steampunk.

A dystopia where diesel engines have developed is dieselpunk.

A dystopia where mechanical engineering has developed is cyberpunk.

If you add a bit of sci-fi flavor to a dystopia, it becomes punk.

Now, let’s look at South Korea.

As money becomes more important, emotions are also calculated in monetary terms, and I am living, unable to die, just to earn that money.

Public sentiment is becoming more exhausted, and every day the news reveals more human cruelty.

Combine that with the structure of the city, the neon signs, and the social structure.

When you mix all of these things together, South Korea is cyberpunk.

Of course, the world I live in hasn’t reached that level of chaos, and technology hasn’t advanced to that degree of singularity yet.

But as I watch the world change year after year in that direction, I feel like by the time I die, it might become either cyberpunk or biopunk.

So, South Korea is cyberpunk.

“Sigh… I must have finally lost my mind.”

Maybe I drank too much coffee.

I can’t sleep, and now I’m spouting nonsense with these late-night vibes.

Since I can’t sleep anyway, I turned on my computer.

As you may have guessed from all the punk talk, my favorite game is undoubtedly the Punk City series.

A series that appeared ten years ago, introducing an open world of exceptionally high quality and bringing a new genre to the gaming industry.

Because of this series, game companies started flooding into the open-world genre, but none could come close to its reputation.

It’s no wonder people say that the only enemy of Punk City is its own past versions.

As the name suggests, this masterpiece is set in a punk world.

Its base is SF punk, but with the addition of magic and genetic engineering, it’s considered fusion punk.

I’m a hardcore fan of this series and part of its veteran lineup.

Wherever I go, I can confidently say that.

Although my control skills aren’t amazing, I’m the kind of veteran who uses clever planning to come up with outlandish strategies.

Since I got a job, my playtime has reduced to about one hour a day, but before that, I used to play for more than nine hours a day, so at some point, I had racked up a total of 20,000 hours.

Of course, on the community, I still pretend to be a clueless newbie.

But even with all the love I have for this series, I do have one complaint.

Despite having played all sorts of endings and concepts and repeating countless playthroughs, Despite getting tired of the third game and revisiting the first and second ones for over 4000 hours each, The developers still haven’t released the fourth game.

The series that used to come out every 2-3 years hasn’t released a new game even after three years.

At first, I was understanding.

“Games aren’t things with predetermined results; they can take some time.”

Then, I became depressed.

“Could it be that the company doesn’t have money? Or have they lost their love for the fans?”

Next came bargaining.

“I’ll give you more money! If it’s not enough, at least release some DLC! Please, Punk City 4!!!”

Then came anger.

“You bastards! How could you do this to me? I loved you so much!”

Now, I’m in denial.

“Hehe. No, it’s fine. Punk City 4 must’ve come out. I’m just too dumb to find it.”

The problem is that I’ve been in this denial stage for 2.5 years now, and the entire Punk City fanbase is in the same boat.

Five years have passed since the third game, and there hasn’t been a peep about a new one.

Now, the words Punk City have become a trigger for the fans’ rage.

Title: I’m a Tire Punk Man

The title is the content.

Comments:

[What? Punk City? Punk City? Punk City? Punk City? Punk? Punk? Punk City? Punk City?]

The end of waiting has come, so let’s all hold hands and pray—Punk City, Punk City.

That was roughly the situation.

As I joined the crowd eagerly waiting for Part 4, my angel suddenly appeared.

As usual, I came home from work, took a shower, and turned on my computer.

While Punk City 3 was loading, I alt-tabbed to browse the community like it was part of my routine.

And right as I entered the community, I saw a top trending post in real-time.

[Leak of Punk City 4 Development Rumors]

As always, I thought it might be just a clickbait article, so I entered with a lukewarm attitude to check it out.

However, the images and videos unfolding were too credible to be mere clickbait.

By the time I had read almost all of the post, I couldn’t help but believe this leak rumor and wanted to cheer in delight.

But at the moment I finished reading the post, I saw this:

[For the record, this is all fabricated.]

Only then did I realize why this post was trending in real-time.

Those bastards…

They couldn’t just suffer alone.

If it had been the usual me, I would have joined the crowd to click the upvote button to bait others, but I had just returned home after two days of duty, so I didn’t have the mental space for it.

My blood pressure was boiling.

The back of my neck was tightening.

My chest felt heavy.

And suddenly, I experienced a headache.

Ah.

Something must have exploded in my head.

Without any resistance, I collapsed on the spot.

What a damnable end it was.

Fortunately, perhaps by divine grace, I was able to wake up alone the next morning.

It was really a relief.

If I collapsed while living alone, no one would be there to report it;

[This could be called a stroke of luck.]

I decided to take sick leave today and tomorrow to visit the emergency room.

As I was thinking this and trying to move, I noticed something strange on the computer screen I hadn’t turned off when I collapsed yesterday.

It was a trailer uploaded on the official Punk City YouTube channel.

“Uh?”

Just as I instinctively tried to play the YouTube video, I realized my right hand wasn’t moving.

I had no sensation at all.

It didn’t stop there.

Not just my right hand, but my left hand, legs, and even my face.

Gradually, all sensation in my body faded away, and my vision went dark.

When I regained consciousness, I was still lying on the cold floor, staring at the fluorescent light on the ceiling.

After desperately racking my brain, I came to the conclusion…

“Damn. Even in death, it’s a light path ending.”

Anyway, it’s clear that the gods hate me.

Can’t they just let me die peacefully?

As I lamented this, my senses gradually faded away.

It was truly the end.

I opened my eyes again.

I could properly feel myself standing in a white space.

Surely, I wouldn’t have another light path ending; I did a reality check for a few minutes.

In conclusion, I was present in this place, and it wasn’t a dream or an illusion.

My fingers and toes moved just fine.

My nose caught my familiar scent well.

I could hear sounds clearly, and I could hear voices distinctly.

And finally, I could clearly see the voluptuous beauty in front of me.

Huh?

“Who are you?”

The woman in front of me asked.

“I am the goddess of the world you loved.”

Oh dear… No, to summarize my conversation with the goddess

I was dead, and she was the goddess of the Punk City universe.

When I asked how a game from our world came to be, she said she wanted to brag about the lovely world she created, but there was no one to listen to her, so she got bored.

So, over the years, she kept showing this world to capable and well-funded game developers, and eventually, they unconsciously ended up making it into a game.

“I’m sorry for calling you bald.”

I had cursed the developers for not releasing the game, but I felt a deep sympathy for them, who had been gaslighted by their dreams for decades.

That’s as far as my silence went.

When I asked why I had come here, she replied, she was impressed that I loved her world enough to search for Punk City even in death, so she called me here to grant me reincarnation in that world.

According to her next words, she had no expectations from me.

She just wanted to see how I, who had loved her world, would live in it.

It wasn’t a demand.

If I didn’t want to go to that world, she would send me back to Earth.

Though she added that if I returned to that world, I wouldn’t be resurrected, but would instead go to either reincarnation or heaven.

The choice she gave me was twofold.

I could freely choose to step through the portal to the afterlife behind me or the reincarnation portal to Punk City behind the goddess.

Part of me wanted to dive straight into Punk City.

But my reason held me back.

Doesn’t it sound incomprehensible?

That she would reincarnate me just because I loved her world?

What’s the catch?

Or is she just bored?

Maybe she was just a naive goddess, too proud of her world?

No, thinking about reincarnation stories these days, there might be some terrible scheme lurking…

Then I came to the assumption that since she was a goddess, she might be able to read my thoughts, so I hurriedly tidied up my mind.

But she responded to my rude thoughts with a smile more compassionate than any I had ever seen.

“Is there any need for an explanation when sharing the world I love with someone who loves it just as much?”

‘As if a fanatic were showing endless goodwill to another fanatic of the same genre. Like a veteran showing kindness to a newbie.’

She was simply giving love without expecting anything in return.

With that sole reason, the goddess embraced me with a benevolent smile and warmth.

Instead of reprimanding my distrust and rudeness, she gently comforted me, saying I must have had a hard time living with such disbelief.

And she said, “The world may be a bit different from how you loved it through the game. But I want to tell you this: just as you loved that world, you too deserve to be loved, no matter who you are.”

I felt her touch.

Every time her warm hand stroked my head, my doubts melted away like snow.

Finally, the goddess said to me, “Be confident. You are the protagonist of your own life, no matter what anyone says.”

A single tear rolled down my cheek.

To someone like me, who had lived alone without knowing love, this unconditional love felt incredibly warm.

Her kindness, which returned love simply because I loved her, was so dazzling that I couldn’t help but vow right there.

“I will definitely live happily.”

The day I was reborn as my mother’s child marked the beginning of my second life.

As the reincarnator stepped into the portal, only a woman remained in the pure white space.

Before she could hear his words, the reincarnator glanced at the direction in which he had vanished and sighed.

“Perhaps I have placed too heavy a burden on him…”

Just before he threw himself into the reincarnation portal, the goddess had seen that responsibility resided in his heart.

It wasn’t what she intended to convey, but his mind was filled with a sense of duty to surely benefit the world as a “protagonist.”

“Sigh…”

There was no need for that.

She just wanted to give him a chance to experience the world he had only seen as a game.

As she worried that he might be crushed by this sense of responsibility and not look around, she felt anxious.

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to be so burdened, even in the form of divine revelation, but she soon refrained.

After civilization had developed in the realm of the living, she had made it clear through the prophets that she would no longer intervene directly for her children’s independence.

In that situation, revealing revelations only to the reincarnator would, in a way, be favoritism and a denial of her promise.

By the time he descended to the realm of the living, he was her child but also an independent being.

Respecting the independence of the new child, she decided not to give revelations.

She erased her worries about the reincarnator from her mind and began working on adorning his body.

Since he was reincarnating, wouldn’t it be better to decorate him in the appearance she desired?

Of course, the reincarnator didn’t make any requests about his appearance.

But people often reflect their wishes onto their characters.

So, the appearance of the character he had invested the most playtime in was likely the one he desired.

The goddess checked the characters the reincarnator had used.

Among them, she found the character he had invested the most time in…

And was taken aback.

“What… what is this?”

The character with over 3000 hours logged had eyes the size of fists, protruding cheekbones, and violet skin—an alien creature named Ray.

Not to mention, the character had not a single hair on its body and was armed with just a dildo.

To top it off, its nickname was “Prostate Dog—”

She stopped reading the nickname.

Over the thousands of years, she had witnessed countless madness and malice, but this nickname was on par with them, or perhaps even far beyond.

Fortunately, the goddess understood the human heart well enough to avoid the misfortune of mistaking the reincarnator’s comedic character as his true self.

Her gaze shifted to the next character.

A total of 2000 hours.

A man wearing sunglasses, bunny ears, and a reverse bunny girl outfit—a chubby guy with hairy legs.

His concept was that of a man who hypnotizes people while hacking.

“Dismissed.”

A total of 1400 hours.

A girl with a rainbow-colored bomb head and a bushy beard…

Her concept was a magical girl who turns people’s heads into bomb heads with a mallet. (The character was androgynous.)

“What on earth…”

The goddess continued to check the reincarnator’s characters.

What on earth was wrong with this reincarnator’s brain?

Each time she examined his characters, she felt her SAN points (sanity points) diminish and began excluding candidates one by one.

In the end, she discovered the face of a man who looked suitably kind.

He had a face that would make ten out of ten people walking by not suspect him when he spoke to them.

In human terms, he could be described as charming.

‘This must be the reincarnator’s true self.’

“Phew…”

Finally finishing her work, she sighed in relief.

Satisfied with the reincarnator’s completed appearance, she looked down at the world below once more, anticipating the story the reincarnator would write anew.