1.

“Do you know how famous Silent Swordsman is in the gaming world these days?”

“That doesn’t matter to us. We’re Awakener trainees.”

“It’s because he’s a Real Mode player. No matter how you look at it, this guy’s real-world specs are at the level of an Awakener.”

Joo Ahyoung was having a meal with her Awakener trainee friends at a fast-food restaurant. Even though they were talking about a streamer who was supposedly more popular than celebrities, Ahyoung wasn’t interested. She had her own “celebrity” to think about.

‘I miss you, unni….’

The story about the Silent Swordsman that she half-listened to was actually about Hae Eung Eung, but Ahyoung, unaware of this, merely fiddled with her screen phone.

‘Should I send her a text?’

Suddenly, a mischievous thought popped into her head.

‘Am I crazy? How could I dare send a message to unni?’

Hae Eung Eung had emerged from her closed-door training as a master. Although she was currently enjoying games, her life couldn’t just revolve around playing games 24/7. What if Ahyoung sent a message and it distracted her during an intense battle? What if the vibration of her phone caused a gap in her focus during a fierce fight?

The thought, though seemingly far-fetched, felt oddly realistic.

With such thoughts, she couldn’t bring herself to make the first contact.

“Ah, there’s Seongcheol oppa.”

“Oppa! Over here, over here.”

Kim Seongcheol.

Hearing his name made Joo Ahyoung’s expression subtly change.

“You all are eating here?”

“This place is the cheapest around here.”

“Why, oppa? Are you going to treat us to a meal?”

Seongcheol had soft, curly light brown hair and was dressed casually in an anorak over a white t-shirt, resembling a comfortable, church-boy type of guy. Ahyoung’s friends liked him, but Ahyoung felt differently.

‘He keeps pressuring me to join his gatherings, and something about him just feels off.’

She knew he was interested in her, but she didn’t like how he tried to close the distance between them.

“Oppa’s wallet is light. We both work at the same convenience store, remember?”

“Tsk. That’s lame.”

“Oppa doesn’t even work night shifts and still complains.”

“Haha, but I attend night classes at the academy instead.”

If only he would eat and leave, they could pass it off as a chance meeting.

“But Ahyoung, are you feeling sick? You’ve been quiet and looking down for a while now.”

“She’s always like this.”

“Oppa, it seems Ahyoung is the only one you notice, huh?”

The playful teasing from her friends, though said in jest, contained a bit of truth.

“Ahyoung will probably just go train, so let’s hang out without her.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with taking a break for a day?”

“Haha, should we? It’d be great if Ahyoung joined us too.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“If you change your mind later, let me know. If Ahyoung calls, I’ll make time no matter what.”

“Oh, come on, seriously.”

“Just date already if you’re going to act like that.”

With half-joking pats on the shoulder, Joo Ahyoung stood up abruptly, dodging Seongcheol’s playful taps.

“Oops!”

“Careful!”

She caught her friend who was about to fall, but the look on her friend’s face became sour as she noticed where her face had landed—on Ahyoung’s chest. The size difference was undeniable, and it bruised her pride as a woman.

‘You guys really try, don’t you?’

Ahyoung and her friends kept their true feelings hidden. No one spoke openly, as revealing those feelings would destroy their friendship. But could such a relationship really be called friendship, even without words?

Following the same routine of convenience store shifts, Awakener Academy, fast-food meals, practice rooms, and home, Ahyoung’s steps to the practice room felt heavier than usual.

When she first realized that she shared the same part-time job and academy with her friends, it wasn’t like this. But ever since Kim Seongcheol became part of her already small circle of friends, her relationships had slowly started to unravel.

‘Should I quit?’

Her steps, more exhausted than usual, halted as she stood in front of the old building housing the practice room. Unable to bring herself to go inside, she gazed at the worn structure.

Her wrist suddenly vibrated gently.

[1 new message received.]

Hae Eung Eung: I need help.

A sudden, cryptic message from her unni.

Joo Ahyoung let out a small laugh.

Joo Ahyoung: What’s going on?

Maybe she’s stuck in a game.

That light-hearted thought quickly shattered with the next message.

Hae Eung Eung:I’ve been reported.

“Reported?” What could she mean? Could something have gone wrong during her Awakener activities? Did one of her attacks miss and hit a civilian? Was she being chased by the police? Maybe the conflict with the Myeongho Guild had escalated into something serious.

Joo Ahyoung: Where are you? I’ll come right away!

In a life that hadn’t changed in five years—a monotonous hamster wheel of routine—Ahyoung now found herself heading toward Hae Eung Eung’s address, ready to break free from her self-imposed prison of routine.

‘Could someone like me, an unawakened Level 0 trainee, really be of any help to unni in a situation like this?’

She might not be able to offer much help, but if Hae Eung Eung asked for her, she would do whatever was needed.

2.

“So, you were reported for playing an instrument at home?”

She nodded.

Jua-young couldn’t hide her dismay.

Although it wasn’t as serious a situation as she had imagined, with a violent fight breaking out or bodies stuffed in body bags, she still felt the gap between her imagination and reality was too wide.

“???

Hae Eung Eung didn’t exactly lie.

Jua-young had jumped to conclusions by herself.

With her older sister looking at her with curiosity, Jua-young let out a sigh.

“First, could you play something for me? I need to hear how loud it is and think about what actions we might need to take.”

She thought that since she had just bought the instrument yesterday, she wouldn’t be able to play much, but it was still an expensive instrument after all.

‘She must really love Chinese culture.’

The pipa and the tongsu.

She learned today that such instruments even existed.

The tongsu looked like a luxurious wooden recorder, while the pipa resembled a wooden tennis racket.

They were unique-looking instruments.

Their tones were also distinctive in various ways.

The tongsu produced a clear, bright sound that resonated widely.

The pipa had a rapid, staccato sound reminiscent of a fast-paced performance.

‘Wow. This isn’t the level of a beginner, is it?’

Did she undergo intense training not with a sword but with an instrument?

It was hard to believe the high level of her playing.

At this level, it wouldn’t have been a problem to play for as long as she wanted, as long as it wasn’t too late.

However, during the performance, Jua-young came to understand why the residents had been reporting her despite the beautiful playing.

Biiing!

Biiiiiing!!

“Ugh, sister, my ears hurt!”

Beep beep beep

“Stop! Stop!”

Bleep…

With a weak sound, the discordant noise came to an end.

Her face was no different from usual.

Although it seemed a little sulky, that wasn’t what was important right now.

“Why did you suddenly stop when you were playing so well?”

[You have to do it this way originally.]

“Doesn’t your ear hurt?”

Hae Eung Eung took earplugs out of her ears.

She knew her playing was loud as well.

Jua-young couldn’t help but ask this question.

“Sister, are you a devil?”

3.

What is the worst gift in the world?

A useless gift?

A gift that’s just a duplicate of something you already have?

‘Of course, a gift that’s given and then taken back is the worst.’

Hae Eung Eung’s performance was just like that.

It opened her ears with a beautiful performance and then mercilessly hammered dissonance into them.

‘What kind of battle is she preparing for with that kind of noise?’

It was so bizarre that she didn’t even want to know.

Still, it was a rare occasion at home.

It should at least be of some help.

“Well, the decibel level I measured hit over 130 when the sound was off. That’s worse than the noise from a fighter jet taking off, so you’ll definitely get a fine for that.”

Hae Eung Eung nodded with a sulky face.

Jua-young thought it was surprising that her sister had a somewhat childish side to her and proposed a solution.

“You have a big house, so you could install a soundproof booth. It’ll cost about 2 million won?”

The dissatisfaction on Hae Eung Eung’s face was evident.

She didn’t want to spend money just to practice singing in her own house.

In the martial arts world, she wouldn’t have cared if a bomb went off next door or a fight broke out.

In the martial arts world, the strong neighbors are the law, but living so recklessly in the real world would easily lead to complaints or even lawsuits.

She understood that fact logically, but she couldn’t accept it emotionally.

Understanding her sister’s feelings, Jua-young suggested a second option.

“Or you could use a practice room with soundproofing equipment.”

“There are many idol agencies near our Awakened Academy. Since aspiring idols are usually managed for their body shapes, those who don’t seem talented get snatched up as idol trainees.”

[What’s the cost?]

“Oh, the price isn’t too high. I just checked online.”

Jua-young, who was about to recommend a cheap and nearby practice room, hesitated.

Since her sister usually just played games all day, they rarely met.

However, if she introduced a practice room near the Awakened Academy, she could spend more time with her sister by making an excuse that she stopped by on the way.

‘Now I understand why Seong-cheol oppa is so eager to get close to her.’

At this point, she didn’t feel qualified to blame Kim Seong-cheol for anything.

Jua-young felt a bit pathetic herself.

Should she remain faithful to her sister’s trust?

Or should she seize this opportunity to satisfy her own desires?

After a brief moment of contemplation, she made her decision.

“It costs 200,000 won to rent a practice room 24 hours a day for a month. The academy I go to is nearby, so how about it?”

In the end, her greed won over Jua-young.

Unaware of the struggle she went through before recommending it, Hae Eung Eung thought of Jua-young’s pure intentions and decided that if she went to a practice room, it would have to be this one.

In her mind, the calculations began to run.

Installing a soundproof booth for 2 million won

VS

Freely playing in a practice room for 200,000 won

The decision was made quickly.

[I’ll do it. I’ll rent the room 24 hours a month.]

Thus began Hae Eung Eung’s daily trips to the practice room.

It was the start of the third week of her focused training period.