It was a terrible misfortune.
There was no other way to describe it.
—
The exact scientific name… what was it again?
Generally speaking, there’s something called TS Syndrome.
A mysterious phenomenon that suddenly and completely alters a human’s body.
In truth, it was hardly deserving of the name “disease”—more like a devilish prank that strikes without warning.
—
“Tomorrow you’re leaving the country, right? I came to help change your mood before you go.”
“It’s not like your father is saying it so easily. Your coach and team director gave permission because they know you’ll never agree to rest on your own. The director said it’d be good for you to take a break since you’re practicing too much.”
—
If only I hadn’t taken my parents’ car that day, would it have been fine?
No. That wouldn’t have happened either.
—
The distance from our home to the athlete’s village wasn’t short.
Even though they’d carved out time from their busy schedules to come see me, their visit lasted barely an hour at most.
I couldn’t betray the utmost sincerity they showed by coming to see me for that brief time.
—
My tragedy was no one’s fault.
How could I blame my father when TS Syndrome struck while he was driving?
It’s an excruciating torment to watch your body transform while fully conscious.
There’s no way he could have maintained control of the wheel.
—
My father did his best.
What happened to me was due to an act of nature.
At the very least, that’s what I believed.
—
“Dahoon’s dad! What’s wrong?”
“Guh… my body… suddenly! Aaargh, k-k-k-kkkk!”
—
It just happened to be on a downhill slope.
—
My father desperately gripped the steering wheel, his foot reaching for the brake pedal.
But all his efforts were in vain—his erratic driving left us no time to think.
While I panicked and froze, my mother enveloped me with her entire body.
—
What made her do that?
Where did she find the courage?
I still don’t understand the hearts of parents.
—
The moment the car hovered over the cliff, a surreal silence enveloped the world as if time had stood still.
And among the many words she could have chosen, my mother selected one to leave as her last message.
—
“I love you, my son.”
—
BOOM!
—
What followed is hazy in my memory.
The car flipped several times, and it felt as though the world turned upside down dozens of times.
Darkness swallowed me, and loud noises echoed. Dizziness and violent shocks bombarded me from every angle.
—
I taste dirt in my mouth, and possibly the metallic tang of blood.
One thing is certain: my mother’s sacrifice was what saved me.
The car was discovered thanks to a missing person report by Master, but by then, it was little more than a mangled heap of scrap metal.
—
It was considered a miracle that I survived at all.
—
This is why I never saw my parents’ bodies.
Master, tears streaming down his face, pleaded with me while I lay in my hospital bed not to go see them.
How could I not know? The kindness in Master’s plea already foretold the condition of my parents’ remains.
—
Their faces must have been unrecognizable.
They mustn’t have even made their appearances presentable.
If I looked at their faces, the horrific images would surely overwrite the ones I cherished of my mother and father.
Master must’ve been worried about this.
—
But there was something Master didn’t know.
Vaguely in my mind remains the image of a hand—torn off its body—still clinging to the steering wheel until the very end.
My father’s hand clung to the wheel until death itself couldn’t remove it.
—
Perhaps that’s why his entire arm was severed.
I was the sole survivor.
—
The authorities couldn’t identify the bodies as my parents.
In the car, there was only a bleeding, unconscious girl who they initially didn’t think was me.
It was only the oversized clothes I wore that gave them a clue.
—
Though they’d stated TS Syndrome wasn’t contagious,
The devilish curse struck me as well, laughing at my despair.
When I opened my eyes, I had become a teenage girl, seemingly around my mid-teens.
—
“Then, according to your request, we will not proceed with the amputation. Though it will greatly inconvenience your life. Are you sure you’re alright with that?”
“There is still a chance of recovery, no matter how small. I’d like to at least try walking.”
“Understood. Someone responsible for your new identity will arrive today.”
—
My mother managed to protect most of my body, but not all.
From below my left knee to my toes—something must have gone wrong during the transformation.
Grotesque burn-like scars prevented it from functioning properly.
—
Even the slightest shift in weight or impact caused excruciating pain, as if my body was being torn apart.
The doctor’s recommendation was amputation. The leg was essentially dead already.
However, I stubbornly decided to preserve the dead limb out of sheer sentiment.
—
Thus, Dahoon, the national kendo champion, died, and Da-eun was born.
The kendo specialist who lost his body now had nothing.
No, not entirely.
There was the astronomical hospital fee for leg treatments, financed by my parents’ estate and insurance money.
A modest studio apartment that we barely managed to afford.
And an outdated brainwave interface device that my parents, who were VR researchers, used for experiments.
—
“I should’ve just thrown this away. It’s taking up so much space.”
—
The reason I didn’t discard the interface, despite knowing nothing about VR, was simply because it was a remnant of my parents.
However, I was curious about what it was that filled my room so completely, so I tested it once—and that trial marked the beginning of my game-addicted life.
—
One might call it the devil’s jest.
—
The device my parents were developing was intended for the disabled or severely paralyzed.
Thus, it was drastically different from the modern devices that simultaneously scan brainwaves and physical movements.
Instead, it directly acted on the brainwaves only.
It seemed like it was designed not for gaming, but to gift everyday life to those in need—but I happened to get absorbed into gaming.
—
Now, this interface was practically mine alone.
Since it wasn’t used properly, there were side effects.
—
Typical gamers can only tolerate up to 30% sensory synchronization.
My setup, on the other hand, refuses to drop below 70%.
Not only does it hinder game performance, but there’s no way to lower it—leaving me to suffer extreme pain.
—
Since it was a developmental product, it lacked broadcasting functions or replay features.
On the contrary, when using newer devices, I wasn’t able to control “Gawol” properly.
—
That was why I couldn’t become a streamer or professional gamer.
I tried every possible desperate method, but neither path was open to me.
—
“A body utterly useless for anything.”
—
Still, I couldn’t quit gaming.
Because within the game, I could be like I used to be—like back when I prepared for matches, with sharp sensitivity and physical prowess.
Reality barely crossed my mind while I moved like that.
—
I couldn’t let go of that feeling.
The heretic of Infinity Black. Streamer and professional gamer’s nightmare.
An assassin who gets paid to eliminate targets—Gawol has already amassed infamy for two years.
—
—
—
“Sssshhhh.”
—
When I opened my eyes again, it was broad daylight.
—
What did I do last?
I went to the convenience store, ate some noodles. Then my mood darkened and I just returned home.
It must’ve been tiring climbing the stairs, so I fell asleep right after arriving.
—
Now that I think about it, that’s kind of a waste.
I should’ve eaten properly. Every drop of that noodle soup costs money, after all.
Is my mood really that important?
—
Still, this body was pretty efficient.
I may not know how effective it could’ve been if properly maintained, but it’s pretty decent.
Despite living recklessly like this, I’ve never been sick, and my game performance is on par with my athlete days.
—
If it weren’t for my wrecked leg, this could be called a blessed body.
Proof of this is that I’m not particularly hungry right now.
I should just gather my wits and log into the game.
—
On the monitor, Soobin was in the middle of an intense stream.
I sipped my cola and un-muted the sound.
—
“Today’s been a bust so far. Why won’t this piece of gear drop?”
– If only she hadn’t caught your ponytail, you would’ve already obtained it by now. Oh wait, you don’t even have hair to catch, do you?
“Thank you for the donation, SoobinHairRoots. Nooo, not at all! My hair is still as thick as ever! And as for Gawol, well… just let it go. What can you do? Surely she won’t show up again, right?”
—
Sorry, but I’m coming back for more.
—
When I visit someone as a hobby, I usually don’t kill them consecutively. However, since I have a job to do now, things are a bit different.
You can’t keep killing the same person without raising suspicion.
I need to select a few streamers and kill them alongside my real target so no one knows who the real aim is.
—
Not that it’s an obligation or anything… but it’s fun.
Anyway, Soobin was the chosen one this time.
—
He’s been on my radar for a while.
His basic skill level is decent enough, and he has a solid fanbase, so whenever he screams, it makes for good gossip.
He also has ties to a siege guild, so he has a fair share of unseen enemies.
And well, his reactions when killed are entertaining, and it feels satisfying.
—
I selected three more sacrificial lambs while browsing more streams.
—
Good. Approximate locations confirmed.
Since Soobin’s logout point is nearby, I’ll kill him first.
The rest I can take down in order. The route in my mind seems simple enough.
—
The streamers who are broadcasting right now might be wondering what they did wrong,
but the truth is, I have no sins to atone for, either.
—
But you’re shining.
While I’m stuck deep in the muck, you’re proudly showcasing yourself on dazzling stages.
You’re freely doing things that I never could.
—
Because all I lack is one disabled left foot, and is that really a fault? I could’ve done well too. Even if I failed, it should’ve been my failure to bear.
—
So… isn’t it okay to let off a little steam? It’s not like you’re dying for real.
—
I—
I have a reason to loathe streamers.
—
When I lie in the interface with the door closed, a system message appears.
—
[Starting Infinity Black.]
[Thank you for coming back, Gawol.]
—
Already, my heart feels at peace.
The partially finished cola belongs in the fridge. And I belong inside the interface.
As my body transforms into Gawol, I slowly grip my weapon.
