Chapter 34: Storms on the Horizon: Power Plays and Past Promises

Hang-yeol’s face was pale with fear as he spoke, his voice trembling.

“I… I had no choice because of the threats… I’m truly sorry.”

“Threats?” 

The question cut through the air. 

“From whom?”

“I-I don’t know exactly who it was. But… they seemed like someone from the Sejeong Group.”

“The Sejeong Group…” The interrogator’s voice lingered, heavy with implication. 

“Are you aware, witness, that the victim in this case is the third heir of the Sejeong Group?”

“Objection!” A sharp cry erupted from the opposing side. 

“The counsel is slandering the bereaved family based solely on the witness’s words, without any concrete evidence!”

‘Wow, was that a double-pitched shout?’

The sheer force of the voice was staggering, resonating through the room like a thunderclap.

‘Why is this kid so good at acting?’

It was as if Hang-yeol had undergone some sudden awakening, his performance electric, almost otherworldly. 

And yet, there was something oddly…

‘Fun.’

A thrill coursed through me, unexpected and exhilarating.

***

After practice, I returned to the dorm, a place now more familiar than my own apartment. 

Slumping onto the bed, I crossed my arms and stared into the void.

“Shop.”

With a faint pop, a translucent window materialized before me. 

At the top, a small exclamation mark blinked alongside the words: ‘Shop items have been updated!’

“Damn system,” I muttered under my breath.

The shop offered regular items and a rotating selection of limited-time goods. 

Among the latter, a few were discounted for a mere four hours after the update.

At first, I’d only noted this in passing, but for the past two days, I’d been checking the shop religiously at every refresh, hunting for those special deals.

‘I’ll need every ounce of transcendental power to navigate this mess.’

Through Seo Eun-jae’s lips, I’d confirmed that YM had been systematically sabotaging my efforts. 

I didn’t know the exact mechanics of their interference, but they’d been brazen enough to make it a condition of Seo Eun-jae’s contract renewal. 

Denying it would be nothing short of delusional.

I leaned back, lost in thought. 

YM was clearly laying the groundwork to ensure I’d face a brutal backlash at the perfect moment. 

But when that storm hit, how was I supposed to escape? 

Was there any way to prepare?

No matter how much I racked my brain, no answers came. 

Reality offered no easy solutions.

‘I don’t have connections, a powerful family to back me up, or enough money to bribe a PD.’

There was one option, though its success was far from guaranteed.

‘Go straight to YM, grovel, and beg them to take me back.’

But that would only work if the illustrious Chairman Choi still had an interest in me.

 Even if the odds were 100%, I’d never set foot in YM willingly.

Was I making the right call? 

Was it foolish to cling to pride when my life was on the line? 

At first, I’d assumed the God watching over me would assign a special mission to guide me through this. 

But days had passed, and the ever-observant deity remained silent.

The quests hadn’t changed either.

[Main Quest 3-1: Place in the Top 3 in the Second Team Evaluation]

[Secure a top 3 ranking for your team in the second team evaluation. Additional rewards will be granted for achieving 1st place.]

[Complete the second team evaluation: 0/1]

[Place in the top 3 in the second team evaluation: 0/1]

[Deadline: Until the announcement of the second team evaluation rankings]

[Reward: 500 Coins / Additional Reward: ???]

[Penalty: Elimination from the Resurrection Project and death]

The sub-quests were equally mundane—use a skill a few times, practice acting for a set number of hours, and so on.

‘The main and sub-quests feel like they’re directly tied to the Resurrection Project’s organizers.’

Only a patron god could issue quests tailored to my personal circumstances, through special missions. 

According to the project’s guidelines, subscriber gods could do the same, but the live-stream function hadn’t been unlocked yet.

‘The live function is just a guess on my part.’

The vague explanation had only mentioned that new functions would unlock as my channel’s rank increased. 

But it was obvious the system was modeled after Earth’s internet streaming platforms, so my guess wasn’t entirely baseless.

The conclusion was clear: with the gods ignoring me, expecting help from an obscure nobody like me was futile. 

My only hope lay in the transcendental shop.

But today, as always, the shop betrayed me. 

The discounted items were utterly useless: “Attack Power Boost Candy, Sleep-Like-Death Potion, and a Magnifying Glass.”

‘A magnifying glass? What’s that doing here?’

Surely it wasn’t the kind I was thinking of. 

“An invention from the world known as Earth!”—the description might as well have mocked me. 

Who knows? 

Maybe some contestant out there was tasked with collecting items from every world.

Sarcasm bubbled within me as I checked the magnifying glass’s description.

[Magnifying Glass (Single Use) / 25,000 → 5,000 Coins]

‘A test version of an item custom-ordered by a god plagued by malicious rumors. Reveals the author and origin of rumors written about the user.’ 

‘Only applicable to texts with two or more sentences. If multiple rumors are present in the text, only one rumor’s origin can be traced.’

‘This is…!’

I knew it instantly. 

This item could be a game-changer, a lifeline I’d need at least once. 

How did I know?

‘If I’d had this before I died, I wouldn’t have gone out unjustly, ignorant of who was behind it all.’

Or perhaps it could have been the key to breaking through my predicament.

Five thousand coins. 

A steep price in my current state. 

But hesitation was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

[Purchase of ‘Magnifying Glass’ item successful!]

I checked my inventory, and there it was—a magnifying glass icon nestled in a neat square slot.

A sigh escaped me. 

“Haa…”

But this alone wasn’t enough.

I didn’t know how YM would strike, but I could guess their strategy. 

If their plan was to build me up with an overwhelmingly positive image only to tear me down, they’d ensure I got plenty of screen time to set the stage. 

That meant, at the very least, I’d have a decent amount of exposure.

The first ranking ceremony was tomorrow. 

In the initial mentor evaluation, I’d placed 14th.

‘Top 10? Maybe top 5?’

They’d want me high enough to make the fall devastating. 

Until then, they’d avoid sabotaging me too overtly.

‘It all comes down to acting well.’

Looks, personality, connections—they all played a part in success. 

But in the end, skill was king. 

Fans were drawn to skill, and even when fandom became exhausting, it was skill that kept them from leaving. 

I’d learned that while obsessively monitoring community reactions out of jealousy toward Seo Eun-jae.

So, for a singer, it meant mastering song, dance, or acting.

No matter how much YM meddled, they couldn’t tamper with my actual performance unless they cut my scenes entirely. 

And even if they did, the short films and stage recordings would be uploaded to the official YouTube channel.

‘I need to build a fanbase as fast as possible.’

Public image mattered, of course. 

But the ones who’d spend money to vote for me weren’t the general public—they were fans.

‘And I’ve got my secret weapon: the Calming pill.’

Even if my image tanked, that little pill would keep me from trembling pathetically during stage greetings or fleeing the scene in the third evaluation. 

But…

‘Do you really think you can win with skill alone, with acting?’

A dark, mocking voice slithered from the depths of my mind.

My fatal flaw: I couldn’t fully immerse myself in the characters I played.

– He seems good at acting, but somehow it doesn’t stick in my memory.

– Especially Hang-yeol’s acting—watch it again, and it feels so flat.

Those comments, left on my YouTube performance videos, flashed through my mind.

‘What more do I need to do?’

I closed my eyes slowly, then opened them. 

Whispering “Status Window” under my breath, the familiar interface appeared.

[Name: Kim Jaeha]

Level: 24

Status: Debuff (???)

Appearance: A+

Diction: B

Action: C (B)

Reaction: C (B)

Expression: C (B)

Charisma: D (A)

[Stats are currently reduced due to a debuff.]

After the last stage greeting, once all my preparations were complete, I’d confirmed my Appearance stat had risen. 

Since then, I’d been diligent—applying skin lotion I’d previously ignored, using face masks regularly. 

My efforts paid off; my Appearance stat had stabilized at A+.

This meant stats could improve through personal effort, not just points. 

Conversely, raising stats with points should theoretically boost the corresponding ability to match the grade.

But no matter how many points I poured in, the debuff kept my stats stagnant.

‘Using the Virtual Experience skill every day is too much.’

Especially now, with daily shoots and most of my time spent practicing with teammates. 

During the first evaluation, I’d used the skill after laying the groundwork by claiming I was unwell, so it hadn’t raised suspicion.

‘That only worked because of those three musketeers.’

With Hang-yeol and Seo Eun-jae on my team, saying something like that now? 

I’d probably be dragged to the health center on the dorm’s first floor. 

Even if I avoided that, they’d never leave me alone.

‘Even if I said I wanted to rest, they’d check on me at least once.’

And if I happened to be unconscious from the skill’s penalty at that moment?

‘Just thinking about it gives me a headache…’

If not for the penalty, I’d have used the skill constantly. 

The last time I used it, I’d glimpsed the possibility that pushing my final score higher could help me overcome my acting flaws.

‘But there’s no way to reduce the penalty’s burden right now.’

To lessen the mental strain of the skill, I’d need to increase its proficiency, which only rose through use. 

Using potions to supplement my mental energy wasn’t an option either—my coin reserves were pitifully low, and the IdeaTV settlement was still pending.

In the end, I was back at square one. 

The debuff displayed on my status window—that damned trauma.

‘If I can’t overcome it…’

There was no future for me.

***

The next day, a hint emerged from an unexpected source. 

It sounds odd, but that’s exactly how it happened—it came out of nowhere.

“Is this the attitude of someone asking for help? You’re delusional if you think you’re still some hotshot prosecutor. You’re just a lawyer now, like me. But here’s the difference: I’m a famous lawyer, and you’re just a rookie!”

“Famous, sure—for chasing money.”

“Hey!”

“What, now you’re yelling at work and talking down to me? I’m so hurt, I might just quit!”