NoveLight ™
1.
Yoo Min-seong woke up in his hospital bed, stirred by the conversation between his roommate and a visitor.
“Did your vlog cheer people up?”
“Not even close. Everyone’s pestering me to get back on my feet already.”
“Aw, that’s kind of touching.”
“Yeah, but they want me up so they can watch me get beaten up again.”
“Figures. Classic, right? They dangle sentimentality and snatch it away just like that.”
When confined to a bed, one can’t help but pick up on details. For instance:
The two were streamer and editor.
The patient was a well-known physical streamer named Lee Hae-chan, and the visitor was his younger brother-like editor.
“But seriously, how does chasing The Silent Swordsman land someone in the hospital with aftereffects?”
“Well, technically, it was training after that. When I hit 65% sync rate, got hit by three racing cars in a row, and blacked out.”
“Only you would think jaywalking in a racing game is a valid training method.”
“How’s the view count?”
“One million.”
“Reactions?”
“Absolutely legendary.”
“Good enough for me.”
“Hey, works for me too. Let’s make it a series: next up, getting hit by a truck in Euro Truck Simulator. Thumbnail: This time, a dump truck! How’s that?”
“Shut up. I’ll aim for a 60-ton truck.”
Yoo Min-seong lay quietly, listening to the boisterous pair devour fried chicken instead of bland hospital food. His side of the room, by contrast, was desolate.
No one visited him.
As an Awakener working for the Association—a so-called "dog of the Association"—living alone wasn’t unusual. But every now and then, the crushing loneliness hit him like a wave, leaving his mental shores eroded and empty.
“By the way, Yoo Min-seong, this is for you,” the nurse said, handing him an outdated flip phone.
The moment he took it, the phone buzzed with a call.
Restricted number.
He knew who it was.
“Have you recovered your senses?”
“…C0.”
“Did the target launch a psychic attack on you?”
The target: Hae Eung-eung.
The supposed Chinese spy capable of disrupting scanner readings and envisioning thirty ways to kill in mere seconds. The memory alone sent shivers racing down his spine.
“I don’t remember anything.”
“That’s not the answer we want.”
The Association. Hae Eung-eung.
Getting further entangled in their battle would only lead to bloodshed.
He tried to formulate a response, one that might shield him:
No matter what you say, my answer won’t change. I saw nothing.
But he knew his cold-blooded superior wouldn’t be swayed.
The phone slipped from his trembling hands as he began to convulse. Foam bubbled at his mouth as he performed an Oscar-worthy seizure, fooling even the nurses and doctors who rushed in.
Despite C0’s persistence, the doctor’s firm order for “absolute rest” saved Yoo Min-seong from further involvement.
2.
“Tsk, at this rate, I’ll recover before The Silent Swordsman does,” Lee Hae-chan muttered, scrolling through his phone.
His eyes flicked to the pale, staggering figure entering their shared room—Yoo Min-seong.
“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?”
“I’m fine.”
The curt response didn’t surprise Hae-chan. After all, this was the same guy who had a seizure mid-phone call just days earlier. Even Hae-chan, known for his fearless attitude, had panicked and slammed the nurse call button repeatedly.
Still, every time the man moved around, Hae-chan found himself glancing at him.
“Are you the streamer?”
“Sorry if we were noisy.”
Despite Yoo Min-seong’s casual tone, Hae-chan felt uneasy. It was as if a corpse had spoken. Even small talk carried an uncanny weight.
“How strong is The Silent Swordsman as a streamer?”
“Oh, you’re a fan?”
“I’ve watched Nationalistic Prosecutor Lee Hae-chan’s channel as well.”
“Hah, wasn’t fishing for compliments there.”
“It’s not that. I’m an Awakener myself, so I tend to be drawn to strong individuals.”
“Whoa, wouldn’t have guessed that. You look more like an overworked office worker.”
The exchange flowed smoothly, yet Hae-chan couldn’t shake the feeling that his thoughts were being read.
“Even the top physical streamers are in awe of The Silent Swordsman.”
“Really? Like who?”
“Speedmaster. One of the industry’s best.”
Speedmaster, a name Yoo Min-seong had heard but never paid much attention to.
“In Awakener terms, how would you rank them?”
Hae-chan considered it. Speedmaster was a top-tier streamer, undefeated in speed challenges—even against Awakeners.
“Comparable to superstars of Korea’s top ten guilds, the Association’s elite trio, or the ghostly legends of the National Security Agency.”
“So, guild strategists, the Association’s best, and mythical government operatives. That’s the level we’re talking about?”
“Yup. Words don’t do justice, though. Just search for Speedmaster’s mad clips. You’ll see.”
Yoo Min-seong did just that, immediately pulling up videos.
The feats were extraordinary:
Watching even a fraction of the footage made one thing clear—Speedmaster’s abilities were unparalleled.
“And this Speedmaster recognized The Silent Swordsman?”
“Exactly. But even Speedmaster couldn’t keep up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, The Silent Swordsman hasn’t streamed in over 20 days. Speedmaster had big plans to tackle hidden quests but can’t do much if there’s no stream to watch. It’s frustrating!”
Hae-chan shook his head, half annoyed and half impressed.
“For a streamer to go AWOL without losing subscribers is unheard of. Heck, their followers have doubled since their last stream!”
“Doesn’t seem all that impressive compared to Speedmaster,” Yoo Min-seong commented.
“That’s because you don’t know about real mode.”
“Real mode?”
“Everything they do in-game, they can do in real life. No buffs, no cheats—just raw skill.”
Yoo Min-seong’s gut churned.
He suppressed the truth:
She’s a Chinese spy and a deadly weapon.
3.
A week later, after watching all of The Silent Swordsman’s streams, Yoo Min-seong was more certain than ever:
She was at least a B-rank Awakener.
Her feats in real mode—superhuman combat, impossible leaps—left no doubt.
‘I doubt they’ll send me back out immediately after all this.’
Still, he braced himself as he entered the Association’s office. To his shock, the surveillance team’s headquarters was sealed shut.
His phone buzzed.
“The surveillance team has been disbanded. You no longer need to report in.”
“Was it because of the target?”
“That’s classified. All you need to know is that the Association has decided not to engage with code name The Silent Swordsman.”
“What about me?”
“C1, your identity may have been compromised. We’ll provide severance pay, but do not return to the Association.”
Click.
The line went dead, leaving Yoo Min-seong stunned.
In a single week, the entire surveillance team—C0 through C9—had vanished without a trace.
“This is how I lose my job?”
Yoo Min-seong, once the leader of the Association’s Surveillance Team C, found himself involuntarily unemployed.
Tftc