“Then!”
“We…”
“We’ll be going now.”
“Yes, take care, everyone.”
With Yuri seeing us off, we headed downstairs.
Meanwhile, Ajin was busy filming.
Seeing this… I realized that a vlog doesn’t have to be anything grand.
If I were to describe how I felt watching Ajin film her vlog, I’d say this:
A mosquito that doesn’t bite.
What an odd combination that doesn’t match at all.
But at the same time, there’s no better way to describe Ajin filming her vlog.
She flitted around, recording everything with her camcorder, yet she never actually “bit” anything.
“Is this how I should be filming?”
“Yeah, yeah!”
She eagerly nodded, hopping around, looking quite cute.
“Don’t think of it as filming. Just relax~ Be natural~ Add a little artistic touch~.”
‘Artistic touch? What does that even mean?’
‘Was this some kind of refined expression fueled by artistic passion?’
Every time Ajin’s body lifted off the ground, the camcorder shook slightly.
At first, I found it strange.
After all, when I thought of vlogging, I imagined using a selfie stick with a smartphone to casually record.
Dayoung, who had been quietly following beside us, half-lidded her eyes and muttered.
“That thing looks shiny… You didn’t just buy it for this, did you? It feels like you’re going a little overboard for your vlog…”
“Of—of course not! You idiot. I bought this a while ago for video recording.”
Ajin snapped back defensively, then soon drooped her shoulders with a sullen expression.
“I mean, I do editing, and sometimes I get outdoor filming requests. But in the end, I never got to use it because of… all this.”
***
Ah, right.
Because of that damned curse, outdoor activities were out of the question.
Now it made sense why Ajin was so eager about filming an outdoor vlog.
She had prepared for it, but unforeseen circumstances had ruined everything.
So she must have wanted to do it at least once, just to get it out of her system.
“Unnie, are we really going to walk there?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, it’d be nice to film in a quiet alley or something, but recording on a busy street or a bus feels a bit… you know.”
“Well, technically, I could just stop filming… but I don’t want to stop…”
Yeah, that made sense.
Dayoung’s concern was valid.
Especially since Ajin was dressed for the occasion.
If passersby saw a group of girls carrying a camcorder and recording, it might look odd.
And Ajin clearly wanted to capture as much outdoor footage as possible.
Stopping now would feel like a waste.
Well, the answer was simple.
“How about we take my car?”
“?!”
Everyone’s eyes widened in shock.
“Unnie, you have a car?”
“Yeah. Did I never mention it?”
“Of course not.”
“A—A private vehicle owned by Friede… This… this is good content, Unnie!”
Ajin mumbled excitedly, her eyes sparkling suspiciously.
‘Would the audience actually enjoy something like this?’
Either way, the idea of using my car seemed like a solid plan.
No one would bother us.
Inside the car, we could vlog, have deep conversations, or even do something more ridiculous, and no one could say a thing.
“Alright, shall we go?”
With everyone nodding in agreement, there was nothing holding us back.
We turned back and took the elevator down to the basement.
Since I was the only one in this building with a car, the parking area was practically deserted.
Honestly, I had barely been here since returning to the modern world.
But finding my car wouldn’t be difficult—after all, there was only one.
***
“Huh?”
As soon as the car came into view, Dayoung stopped in her tracks.
She quickly pulled out her smartphone, seemingly searching for something.
Then she sighed.
“Unnie.”
“What? Why?”
“Just to be sure… Are you actually good at driving?”
“Yeah. I mean, I have a license, even though I haven’t driven in a while.”
At my words, Dayoung swayed slightly as if dizzy, then shook her head with a sigh.
“Since when does having a license automatically mean you’re good at driving?”
‘Hey, that’s a bit harsh.’
I drove my dad’s car quite a bit before being summoned to another world.
I still remembered everything.
And thanks to the goddess, I even had ‘Ji Sehee’s’ driver’s license now.
Sure, I had a bit of a gap, but the spirit of a hero was roaring inside me, demanding to take the wheel.
“Let’s all promise to forgive any potential accidents.”
“All of a sudden?”
“I mean, if Unnie causes an accident and she’s 90% at fault… the other party will go bankrupt trying to pay for the damage.”
“W—What? You idiot. What do you mean by that?!”
Ajin, looking dumbfounded, was about to argue when Dayoung suddenly shoved her smartphone in her face.
And then…
“Huh?”
Ajin alternated glances between my car and the reflection on her phone screen before quietly stepping back.
‘Now what’s up with her?’
Tilting my head in confusion at her sudden reaction, Dayoung stepped in to explain.
“This is a Lurs Louis Swagtail.”
‘Huh? What’s that?’
‘Oh, was that the name of the car?’ First time hearing it.
Seeing my indifferent expression, Dayoung let out an exasperated sigh and shouted.
“It’s worth 15.6 billion won!”
“Y-Yeah, even brushing against most cars would be instant death, Unnie.”
“Huh?”
***
“We got here too fast. Damn it.”
Unlike his usual friendly persona on stream, the man grumbled under his breath, lips jutting out in a pout.
This was the streamer Gunder, one of the participants in the STK Rumble Tournament.
He had been utterly crushed by Friede, though he liked to think it was a close match.
Beside him, a burly man with a laid-back demeanor—his editor—checked his phone and relayed a message.
“The organizers just contacted me. They’ll pick us up if we wait here. Might as well grab some popcorn and wait.”
“Ugh, you messed up the time, and now I’m stuck here wasting time with a guy. If at least a cute girl was with us, that’d be different.”
“Jeez, complaining over being 15 minutes early? You forgot how I covered for you when you messed up a collab schedule before? Call it even.”
“Are you ever gonna let that go? What, you planning to hold it over my head till I die?”
“Eh?! Gunder-kun, you’re going to wait for me until I die?”
“Shut up, you wanna die first?”
The Warfare Mart echoed with their ridiculous banter.
It was almost impressive how much they milked an old mistake.
If this were a bone broth, it’d be boiled down to nothing by now.
Gunder, though clearly annoyed by his editor’s smugness, couldn’t come up with a counterargument and just grumbled.
As annoying as he was, the guy always came through when it mattered.
They had been close for a long time, so firing him wasn’t an option.
If they ever parted ways, it would probably be for personal reasons rather than anything work-related.
Gunder didn’t mind the editor’s growing arrogance, but he wished the guy would tone down the cringy otaku remarks.
“Whoa, look over there, man. It’s streamer Bisu.”
Through the glass, they spotted a pair of figures walking toward the building.
Streamer Bisu, someone Gunder had met before.
Like him, Bisu had also been demolished by Friede in the STK Rumble Tournament, only at a later stage.
“Looks like all the streamers are showing up with their teams.”
“Obviously. It’s not just the esports teams that benefit from this event.”
“True, this is prime content for the participating streamers.”
-Crunch, crunch.
The editor, already munching on a family-sized bucket of popcorn he had somehow acquired, spoke with interest.
Gunder shook his head at the sight.
Bringing his editor along was an easy decision.
For a streamer, an event like this was a goldmine for content.
Official tournaments and events weren’t just about the matches—they were a treasure trove of behind-the-scenes moments.
Fans loved seeing the stories and incidents that happened off-screen.
Most streamers who had a clue would bring an editor to capture as much footage as possible.
Whether it was a vlog or something else, having more footage meant more material to work with later.
‘What about Friede? Did she bring an editor too?’
Gunder vaguely remembered hearing something about a controversial editor in her camp.
Not that it really mattered now.
At the time, it had stirred up a minor debate, but nothing serious enough to affect her.
***
“Hey, aren’t you excited?”
“About what?”
“We’re finally going to see Friede.”
At Gunder’s words, his editor grinned and took a deep, exaggerated breath.
“Hehehe. Of course. The moment Friede shows up, I’m ditching you and filming only her.”
“Kek. Can’t argue with that. I’d do the same.”
These days, Friede was beyond famous.
She had dominated the Rumble Tournament, even taking down Lotus, proving her insane skills.
And on top of that, she had finally revealed her face.
Her beauty was almost alien—so dazzling it sparked endless discussions online.
Even people who knew nothing about streaming or Soul Warfare had at least seen GIFs of her circulating the internet.
She was, without a doubt, the strongest member of the streamer team.
While the team had some high-ranked Challenger and Grandmaster players, they couldn’t compare to the STK esports pros.
Still, this was the perfect opportunity.
If they managed to pull off an upset, the recognition would be enormous.
Gunder wasn’t one to just go with the flow—he wanted to leave his mark.
“Should be about time now.”
“Yeah, is Friede running late?”
“How should I know? Other than Forming, no one in the streamer group really knows her.”
Hopefully, she wasn’t late or skipping out.
If she bailed, they’d have wasted a lot of time.
Gunder pushed aside his mild anxiety.
They’d find out soon enough.
And then—
-Vroom!
A loud engine roar echoed through the parking lot.
“Whoa, is that a Lurs Louis Swagtail? I can’t believe this car is in Korea! This thing is insanely rare!”
The editor’s voice was filled with excitement.
Gunder blinked in confusion.
He wasn’t much of a car guy, so he left driving to his editor.
Following the sound, his eyes landed on an absurdly luxurious car cruising into the parking lot.
Strangely enough, no other cars dared block its path.
It was as if the lesser vehicles instinctively knew to make way for a predator.
Gunder had never seen something like this before, and his curiosity piqued.
“Why is everyone acting so weird over a car?”
“This thing is worth over 15 billion won. If a car enthusiast saw this, they’d probably set up an altar and start worshipping it.”
‘Eh? 15 billion?’
That was more expensive than some buildings in Gangnam.
Then the car door opened, and three women stepped out.
‘Is that the owner?’
Intrigued, Gunder shifted his gaze to them—
And immediately froze.
Long, flowing golden hair, shimmering like molten gold.
Facial features so exquisite, they could rival the finest diamond craftsmanship.
A black choker adorning her pale, pearl-like neck, carrying an air of subtle seduction.
A black bustier tightly holding her voluptuous chest in place, layered with a sheer shirt that barely concealed the porcelain-like skin underneath.
A mini skirt so snug around her shapely hips that it seemed questionable whether she could even walk.
Black heels, paired with dark stockings, accentuating her already striking legs with an added touch of sultry elegance.
‘…How was he supposed to describe this?’
For a moment, Gunder’s brain simply shut down.
He struggled to find the right words, unable to process the sheer presence before him.
Beside him, his editor swallowed hard and muttered, “She’s literally the goddess of beauty and sex.”
Yeah.
That was it.
It was a crude way to put it, but somehow, it fit perfectly.
Gunder and his editor couldn’t tear their eyes away as Friede and her companions entered the building.
Their backs slightly arched as they unconsciously leaned in to keep watching…
***
“Why did we lean back?”