Kalstein logged into the community after a month and found it just as lively as before. He nodded approvingly.

*A good place.*

A small smile played on his lips.

> “Ah!”  
> “H-huh!”

The attendants nearby flinched, trembling in fear regardless of age, gender, or rank.

Kalstein forced his smile to fade, sighing internally.

*Sigh…*

Truthfully, he was dealing with a so-called “non-issue.”

*Maybe that’s why I was so eager to join this community.*

His long double life had taken its toll. To maintain his position and survival, he had to act and adapt constantly.

Beneath him was the group known as the “Fallen Planet”—a gathering of unparalleled talent, people so skilled they could “bring down stars.” To keep such extraordinary people unified, he had to project an unbreakable image of authority.

If even one of them grew disillusioned and rebelled?  
With their monstrous talents, there was no telling what kind of chaos they could unleash.

*It’d be like a web novel protagonist going rogue… a truly terrifying thought.*

As a result, he often synchronized with Aria to bolster his “aura of authority.” It was a habit by now—a necessity that came with his title as Emperor of the Galactic Empire.

*Self-made, but not a problem I can complain about.*

However, the constant need to act in front of others took a toll on his mental health. Some might wonder,

> *“Shouldn’t such an exalted position naturally inspire awe?”*  
> *“Wouldn’t he get used to it by now?”*

He’d once believed he would adapt over time—that was his mistake.

*Damn “trait” or whatever it is…*

When he’d ended up in *Galaxy Heroes Chronicles*, he gained a peculiar ability that might be considered a perk or curse.

If he had to name it, it’d be *[Unyielding Mind]*.

Even when war raged around him, blood and gore everywhere…  
Even when entire planets were wiped out by his choices…

He could feel strain, but he never crumbled. It was bizarre—almost like a safeguard.

But the problem was, this “fixation” came with a drawback: his psyche remained rooted in the mindset of his former, ordinary life. This persistent, small part of him—a mundane part—constantly whispered loneliness and melancholy into his mind. Despite teetering on the brink of madness, his *[Unyielding Mind]* kept him going, forcing him to endure.

The thought of living for eternity was horrifying.

*Eternal life.*

To some, it seemed enviable, but for him, it was a nightmare. Without mental equilibrium, it was a curse rather than a blessing.

> “Haa…”

At his soft sigh, the attendants around him trembled, swallowing nervously.

*Even this body is an issue…*

While he looked like a typical adult male, his physique carried an aura that unnerved people. Pushing the attendants away, he returned to his room and flopped onto his bed. Loneliness? Resentment? He couldn’t quite name the emotions accumulating inside him like snow piling up.

Aria dismissed it as mere “nonsense.”

*Ding*

> [Welcome to the Dimension Integration Community.]

Logging into the community provided him a strange comfort, allowing him to reconnect with his mundane side.

Hmm…

Perhaps, he thought, it was like a married man’s need for occasional time to himself.

Or maybe not.

Kalstein started scrolling through the posts from the past month, letting his inner ordinary self breathe.

---

After a month of nonstop schedules organized down to the second by Aria, Kalstein finally had some time to unwind. While catching up on posts, a particular word caught his eye—repeatedly.

> “Bald Messiah? What’s that about?”

As he browsed past posts, he found the origin of the trend.

A hair-growth formula?

> “Well, isn’t that ridiculous.”

Hardly anyone had mentioned his prized space battleship collection. He’d spent a fortune assembling these limited-edition, top-tier ships, yet they were overshadowed by a mere hair-growth tonic.

Musing over his neglected battleships, he posted a message.

> **Title: To the Bald Messiah Followers**  
> (A photo of a hair-growth tonic)  
> “Settle down, everyone. So, you’re asking for the hair-growth formula, right?”

The comments piled up instantly, even faster than usual, making him chuckle.

> “Well, isn’t this something?”

> └ Bald Messiah  
> └ Please, have mercy on us!  
> └ Oh, Lord  
> └ Bald Messiah  
> └ Bald Messiah  
> └ Wait, is he giving it out for free?  
> └ Baldies love freebies, don’t they? lol  
> └ You… have gone too far  
> └ Silence, you hair-blessed!  
> └ Stop ruining it for the rest of us!  
> └ Who even believes this stuff? lol, bald gang got tricked again.

Seeing the fervent response, Kalstein replied.

> └ But here’s the thing… I don’t think your civilization can make it. Sorry, but it requires advanced tech beyond what you have.

After his post, there was a moment of silence, as if the comments were holding their breath. Moments earlier, they’d been flooding in real-time, but now the activity had abruptly stopped.

> └ What… what did he just say?  
> └ Bald Messiah followers in tears  
> └ You have insulted me  
> └ Are you kidding?  
> └ The false hope is unreal  
> └ Bald… Mess…iah…  
> └ You mess with my emotions like a yo-yo—  
> └ Knock it off already  
> └ Bald Messiah, trolling at its finest.  
> └ “Beyond our civilization’s level”? Disrespecting magic engineering?  
> └ This guy’s mouthing off about tech as if he wouldn’t stay silent if we met face-to-face.  
> └ How dare a mere human challenge a transcendent?

Kalstein nodded at the intense reactions, feeling almost compelled to show respect.

> └ So, can your magic, dwarven engineering, or qi manipulation cure baldness?

> └ …  
> └ …

A silence fell over the comments, quickly replaced by a flood of replies, with users demanding a duel or accusing him of hiding behind anonymity.

Kalstein smirked.

Of course, he was only half-serious. He didn’t want to mock others’ insecurities. So, after glancing over the recipe, he added a detailed comment.

> └ You’d need pico-level material manipulation, a pseudo-magnetic induction device, and core pressure control to make it work.

> └ …  
> └ Pico… what?  
> └ That’s a unit smaller than nano.  
> └ Core pressure? This guy’s just spouting nonsense.  
> └ Looking down on us because we don’t understand?  
> └ Yeah, it’s complete nonsense.  
> └ Nano level might be achievable… but pico?  
> └ God, why did you make hair-loss such a complex issue?  
> └ Did He really think we’d find a cure, or was it just a joke?

Kalstein enjoyed watching the despair ripple through the comments in real-time.

> “Can’t help it if you don’t believe me.”

He scratched his head and decided to upload a simplified version of the formula—a carefully abbreviated version.

> └ Is this for real?  
> └ Remember the self-proclaimed grand mage who posted a dimension-shifting spell, only to get exposed by a dragon and vanish? lol  
> └ That spell turned out to be for turning people into beastfolk.  
> └ But they said theoretically, it could work at 10th circle!  
> └ But why would a wizard invent a spell for beast transformation?  
> └ So, does this one work or not? Call the magic engineers, dragons, or liches!  
> └ Dwarven apprentice here. Theoretically impossible.  
> └ Senior guard of the Mage Tower here. This isn’t human technology.  
> └ Enough with the nonsense!

The reaction to his upload was mixed, with some commenters sighing at the complicated multi-level chemical reactions and advanced SF physics formulas, ultimately giving up.

> └ I was a chemistry major before reincarnating. I understand none of this.  
> └ I went up to a Master’s in physics. I have no clue.  
> └ I was an associate professor in physics in Korea. Moving on.

> “Not much I can do if they can’t grasp it.”

He briefly considered explaining each concept in simpler terms but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn’t just understanding the theory—execution would be equally complex.

At that moment, a clear, sharp voice filled his ears.

> “Master, the inter-dimensional network hack has been completed.”

Kalstein’s lips curved up in satisfaction.