Make the Namgung Family Great Again – Chapter 2

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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When he regained consciousness, Namgung-Woo instinctively knew something had changed.

This wasn’t some vague, baseless hunch. The moment he tried to move, he felt the difference.

“It’s heavy.”

Even though Chu-rok Murim was a virtual reality game, the sensation of moving his body wasn’t perfectly synced with reality. There were technological limitations.

Even the virtual reality games considered third-generation, succeeding Chu-rok Murim’s second-generation tech, couldn’t perfectly bridge the gap with reality.

However, the feeling of wiggling his fingers and toes now was strikingly clear, perfectly aligning with the sensation in real life.

“Did the VR capsule detect an abnormal reaction and initiate an emergency protocol?”

Even though virtual reality technology had been proven to be safe, it was impossible to completely eliminate the anxiety that something might go wrong when immersing human consciousness in a virtual world.

Therefore, VR capsules were equipped with a default setting that instantly terminated the connection, opened the capsule, and triggered an emergency alert if any abnormal brainwave activity was detected.

This was the most logical explanation Namgung-Woo could think of, but the moment he opened his eyes, evidence contradicting this theory presented itself.

“But… this ceiling looks too familiar.”

The old-fashioned wooden ceiling was something he couldn’t possibly imagine seeing in a 22nd-century hospital or ambulance.

While a modern person would rarely see such a thing, it was all too familiar to Namgung-Woo.

That style was identical to the architecture he’d seen countless times in Chu-rok Murim.

“A forced event?”

A response he shouldn’t have received came back to his casual mumbling.

“What are you talking about?”

“Huh?”

“Are you finally coming to your senses?”

Namgung-Woo’s eyes snapped open and he turned towards the voice.

A young woman, barely twenty years old, with a hint of youthful innocence, was looking down at him.

Her gaze held more annoyance than kindness or curiosity. The reflection of his own face, hazy in her large, clear eyes, jolted Namgung-Woo’s mind awake.

“Wait, this is…”

“You should be grateful. It’s a good thing Dang-ah found you and brought you here. If you had been left out there, you might have died. You should thank your parents for giving you such a pretty face.”

Her curt words were quite sharp.

In reality, the young woman, Song Chae-ji, wasn’t particularly pleased to see Namgung-Woo.

She and Dang-ah were in a precarious situation themselves. Despite her harsh words, judging by Namgung-Woo’s appearance, he seemed to come from a well-off family, so he likely would have survived regardless.

Still, in her anxious state, she realized she’d spoken too harshly.

‘It’s not the right time to be doing favors for others… Sigh, my self-discipline is lacking. I should apologize.’

Song Chae-Ji inwardly chastised herself for being too hard on Namgung-Woo.

But what stung Namgung-Woo wasn’t her condescending tone, but the content of her words.

A pretty face?

No way. Namgoong Woo’s face was objectively average.

On a scale of low, medium, and high, he’d be squarely in the middle.

If it were a 9-tier scale, he’d be middle-middle. If broken into 27 tiers, he might just manage to rank middle-upper.

But a young woman, barely in her twenties, was outright calling him handsome? Unless she was being sarcastic, this was something Namgung-Woo would never experience in reality.

However, if it was his appearance in Chu-rok Murim, it made sense.

Even though Namgung-Woo was a hardcore, immersed player, using his real name as his in-game nickname, he hadn’t made his in-game face an exact replica of his real one.

After all, everyone harbored a desire to be handsome. Namgung-Woo had simply indulged in that desire a little.

‘So I’m still inside Chu-rok Murim… but what is this sense of reality?’

The external information told him he was still in Chu-rok Murim, but the sensations he was experiencing insisted this was reality.

While Namgung-Woo was struggling with this dissonance, a girl hiding behind Song Chae-Ji peeked her head out.

“U-Unnie, don’t be too harsh…”

“Dang-ah, I’m not trying to scold him. I’m giving him advice, so he’ll be careful in the future. And we don’t know who this person is. It’s only right to be cautious. He could be a spy sent by the Black Bear Gang…”

Namgung-Woo didn’t have the time to care about what the two were saying about him.

He immediately focused on his own body.

Chu-rok Murim, in its pursuit of realistically implementing martial arts, allowed players to examine their internal energy and train it through mental meditation.

His daily meditation practice allowed him to sink deeply into his consciousness, despite the surrounding commotion.

He felt an incredibly powerful energy dormant in his lower dantian, located below his navel. It was a tyrannical, overwhelming energy, like lightning that could split the heavens and cleave the earth.

Such energy couldn’t possibly exist within his body in reality, so this should have confirmed that he was still in Chu-rok Murim. However, instead of relief, Namgung-Woo felt even greater shock.

‘What is this…?’

A sensation more real than reality.

Unlike in Chu-rok Murim, where he could only visually perceive his level of growth, Namgung-Woo now sensed the existence of his internal energy in his lower dantian not just with his five senses, but with his entire sixth sense.

It was a power like a coiled thunder dragon.

It made sense.

The internal energy cultivation technique Namgung-Woo practiced was the Heavenly Thunder Emperor Divine Art.

It imitated the most tyrannical force of lightning in the world.

This wasn’t a sensation that could be replicated by a mere game.

He realized instinctively.

At that moment, Namgung-Woo became aware that he was in reality.

Suddenly, an unprecedented amount of information surged into his brain like a torrent.

It was a kind of knowledge. A formal and clear mass of information, far removed from emotionally charged memories.

“Ugh…!”

The sensation, like downloading files onto a computer, brought a sense of alienness and pain. Namgung-Woo clutched his head with a short groan of pain.

The influx of information didn’t stop.

How to breathe, how to walk, how to move his hands, how to control his internal energy…

It was a feast of knowledge that made him conscious of the processes behind every action he’d taken for granted until now.

Human movement is inherently unconscious, regardless of its complexity.

If someone asks you how you pick up an object with your hand, most would simply say, “I just do.”

On the other hand, a robot requires incredibly complex processes to perform every single action.

Considering the lengthy research and, trial and error required to implement walking in a robot, one could understand the difficulty of converting every human action into information.

The change happening inside Namgung-Woo’s head was similar.

It was the process of giving form and structure to actions he’d performed unconsciously every day. There was no better way to describe it.

“Kgh… Aagh…!”

But even the terror of this bizarre sensation, like his brain being overturned, was bearable compared to the intense pain in his eyes.

If the knowledge being etched into his brain felt like branding irons searing his skin, then his eyes felt like someone was forcibly pulling them out and dissecting them while the nerves were still alive.

The pain in his head and eyes was so intense that Namgung-Woo failed to notice the pain signals being sent from every pain receptor throughout his body.

Was this what Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) felt like?

Unable to endure the agony of his perfectly healthy eyes being mutilated, Namgung-Woo couldn’t hold back his screams any longer.

Startled by his sudden outburst, Song Chae-Ji frantically tried to support him.

“H-Hey! Are you alright?”

“Unnie… what do we do…?”

“A doctor, we need to call a doctor. Dang-ah, I’ll be right back…”

*Thud.*

Namgung-Woo’s hand grabbed Song Chae-Ji’s arm as she was about to leave him and go outside.

While Song Chae-Ji was trying to figure out what this meant in such a bewildering situation, Namgung-Woo’s mouth opened.

“It’s… it’s alright.”

“A-Are you sure? You’re sweating…”

Song Chae-Ji examined Namgung-Woo’s face with concern.

Cold sweat covered his face, dripping down profusely. He clearly wasn’t in a normal state.

But despite that, Namgung-Woo had already regained some composure and shook his head lightly.

“I’m really fine. Could you… could you just leave me alone for a moment?”

For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed Song Chae-Ji’s mind that he might be faking it to escape and demand money as compensation.

But the thought quickly vanished.

Song Chae-ji was a martial artist, a true expert. For a man showing no signs of martial arts training to deceive her would mean he was an actor of unparalleled skill.

‘That can’t be.’

Convinced, Song Chae-Ji gently removed Namgung-Woo’s hand from her arm.

“Alright. Rest. Come out when you feel better. So-Dang, let’s go.”

“Mm… Unnie.”

Even as she was led away by Song Chae-Ji’s hand, the girl kept glancing back at Namgung-Woo, clearly still worried about him.

Soon, a *thud* echoed as the door closed.

Even after that, Namgung-Woo continued to endure the pain.

Fortunately, as he had told Song Chae-Ji, the pain was subsiding with time.

At this rate, it would surely disappear completely soon.

“Haa… Haa…”

Instinctively, following the breathing technique etched into his mind, Namgung-Woo took deep breaths.

His body responded first, and then the coiled thunder dragon within him slowly began to stir and uncoil and then slowly swim through his body.

Time passed.

While Song Chae-ji and the girl were briefly taken aback, Namgoong-Woo’s awareness began to return, and the pain quickly subsided.

As the burning pain in his head subsided, an unprecedented clarity of mind settled in.

It was so clear that his earlier worry about lingering aftereffects from the pain seemed ridiculous.

Finally, the last remnant of pain…the excruciating agony in his eyes, far worse than the headache…faded away. Namgung-Woo fully regained his senses.

And when he cautiously lifted his eyelids to see the world again…

The world he was now facing had transformed into a completely different realm, one unlike anything Namgoong-Woo had ever seen.

“What in the world…”

His field of vision was filled with brilliant, radiant light.

This was the new world Namgung-Woo would now see from here on.

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