1. Prologue

Kim Kang-cheol, the HR Director of the Korean Player Association, let out a sigh.

“This time, luck wasn’t on your side, Mr. Hyuk-jin Kim.”

That was the only way he could express it. He looked at the official government-issued ‘Player Aptitude Test Result’ and sighed deeply.

──────────

Name: Hyuk-jin Kim

Talent Plates: □■■■■…… ■■■■

Talent Series: Unmeasurable.

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Here, ‘□’ indicates a live talent plate, and ‘■’ indicates a dead talent plate. Talent plates are similar to growth plates; just as a person’s height is determined by their growth plates, their abilities are determined by their talent plates. The more talent plates one has, the higher the chance of flourishing as a player.

“This is the test result from five years ago.”

He got into his sedan.

He had decided to personally deliver this to the concerned party. It was the last act of conscience he could afford.

If it were a matter of timing, the owner of this test result would have undoubtedly been a successful player. With 67 talent plates, he was an unprecedented individual globally.

“Considering the Korean testing devices have a limit of 67 plates…”

Perhaps even more. He could have had a much higher number of talent plates. Simply put, this man was a natural genius.

It was an immense regret for Shin Hyeong-seok, the president of the Player Association, who lamented upon seeing the results:

[Ah… Why have we only discovered such a talent now!]

It was less of a sigh and more like anger. Why had they only discovered such a talent now? But the truth was, it wasn’t a recent discovery. They had identified this man with an unbelievable number of talent plates five years earlier.

“A true genius indeed, but… it’s a meaningless tale now.”

The top conglomerate of Korea. Unfortunately, this man had taken the test at the same time as the youngest of the Seongshin family, five years ago. The results were first checked not by Hyuk-jin Kim himself but by the youngest Seongshin, Jin-cheol Song. Seongshin got to verify the test results before any agency. It was unfair but customary.

Back then, Jin-cheol Song had said:

-67 talent plates? Absolute nonsense.

Jin-cheol Song himself was confirmed to have 44 talent plates—a quite commendable talent—but naturally, the youngest son of the conglomerate was quite upset.

-This trash. Make sure he can’t do anything.

At the time, Kim Kang-cheol internally lamented:

“Here we go again…”

A prodigy who might have become the world’s greatest player was about to be squandered. For a brief moment, he even thought it was dog-like. It was dog-like, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Does this make any sense?”

He shook his head in disbelief. It was nonsensical. Yet it made sense. This was Korea. Or rather, the Republic of Seongshin. It was a place where nonsensical and irrational events happened frequently. He simply chose to accept it.

“Bad luck indeed, Mr. Hyuk-jin Kim. Your opponent was Jin-cheol Song.”

Jin-cheol Song, the youngest grandson of a conglomerate family. Hyuk-jin Kim, an ordinary man with nothing, perhaps even from a disadvantaged background. The difference in their origins was stark. When marked by someone from such a different background, all he could say was that “it’s just bad luck.”

The results had been manipulated since five years ago. Fortunately, a ‘re-examination’ under that pretext recently prompted another test. Free of charge. It was portrayed as if they were doing him a favor, but it wasn’t. They just wanted to verify the talent plates.

“There’s only one live talent plate left.”

Hyuk-jin Kim was 30 years old. From late twenties onwards, the talent plates rapidly close. They confirmed that all the talent plates were now closed. Now, it wouldn’t be a lie to say he had no talent.

With the last of his conscience, Kim Kang-cheol visited the semi-basement room where Hyuk-jin Kim lived alone and handed him the test results.

“I regret to inform you of these results. After the re-examination, it was determined that you have no talent.”

But he only said it to himself.

“I’m sorry.”

This man, a ‘deceased genius’, had just happened to offend Jin-cheol Song. Kim Kang-cheol handed him a set of drinks, trying to offer consolation and apology. It was hypocritical, but it was the best he could do.

“I hear you’re studying for the civil service exams. Keep it up.”

“Thank you.”

He thought to himself again.

‘Civil service exams… You’ll never pass.’

Especially since he had upset Jin-cheol Song. The fact that he hadn’t passed despite high marks for three years wasn’t for any significant reason. It could be summed up in one sentence.

“Bad luck, Mr. Hyuk-jin Kim.”

Including being born in Korea, in various ways.

* * *

In the semi-basement room, where his family once welcomed him, there was now no one. It was dark. A dampness crept in. He had grown accustomed to it now. The results from the evaluation he received from Kim Kang-cheol were spartan.

[Talentless.]

He hadn’t harbored much hope. He had gone for a free re-examination, thinking that’s what it was all about. Looking at the paper once more, he saw:

[Talentless.]

He laughed weakly. If he had any talent, he would have awakened as a player by now, chosen by a splendid ‘Guardian’, living comfortably.

“Let’s just focus on studying.”

Any false hopes were fleeting, over in a matter of seconds. Besides, at 30 years of age, he was far too old to start playing now. The consensus was that one should start in their early twenties.

“Yeah. I’ve got to work hard.”

That was the only thought he had. No talent, no connections, no money. He had already failed the civil service exam three times. His mother passed away five years ago after a battle with illness, and his sister, to support him, had worked in a semiconductor factory only to contract leukemia.

“Work hard…”

Today, the words “Talentless” stung a bit more than usual. Was it his lack of effort? Or his lack of talent? Or was it both? Was his current life his fault? Or was it society’s fault?

He lay down on his bed.

“Life sure is crap.”

It all felt like my fault. Because I couldn’t study well. Because I couldn’t make a lot of money. Because I didn’t meet wealthy parents. Because I didn’t make an effort. Because I couldn’t win in competition. Because I had no talent as a player.

Suddenly, he noticed the single photo of his mother left on the desk. On her last night, his mother had said to him:

“I’m sorry for choosing to be your mother.”

In the photo, his mother was smiling. As if reassuring him, left alone in the world, that everything was fine.

“Mom, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m doing okay, after all.”

The night of April 26, 2028, especially damp, came to an end. All without him suspecting that a completely different day would begin the next morning.