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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The world was a mess.
I still wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was real.
Yet, everyone else seemed to be going about their lives without a problem.
No one else pointed it out.
They simply lived their lives, oblivious.
So, I figured it must be me who was the problem.
That middle schooler sneaking a cigarette in the alley? 21.
The neighbor who came over for side dishes? 110.
The crazy cat lady yelling over there? 56.
No, wait.
It just went up to 57.
And the red number in parentheses next to it is also going up with a roar.
What are they, you ask?
What else could they be?
They’re the numbers above people’s heads.
Do I know what they mean?
Nope. Not a clue.
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Eighth grade.
The age of raging hormones and heightened emotions.
Also, the prime time for creating cringeworthy moments that make you want to bury yourself under the covers every time you remember them.
That was when I first started seeing this bullshit.
The black number that climbed in real time.
And the red number in parentheses right next to it.
Everyone had these numbers, albeit different ones.
Except me.
But if I asked anyone about it, they’d just look at me like I was crazy and say, “What’s wrong with this idiot?”
So, let’s think about this.
One day, I started seeing something above people’s heads.
And only I could see it.
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
It felt like something out of those “I Am the Only One Who Can See” hunter novels.
And what’s the first thing that pops into the mind of a chuunibyou-ridden, protagonist-obsessed eighth-grader?
Exactly.
“Ah, I can’t resist a status window!”
As soon as I got home, I dug out my winter scarf, wrapped it around my neck like a muffler, struck a pose in front of the mirror, and shouted at the top of my lungs:
“Status Window!!!”
“Status!!!”
“System!!!”
I made a huge fuss, but instead of the coveted status window, my parents appeared.
They stared at me with grave expressions, and then they started to cry.
Suddenly, they rushed me out of the house and took me somewhere.
An amusement park?
Nope, a mental hospital!
“How can we help you today?”
“…Huh?”
In the end, what I received wasn’t a special ability or some kind of awakening. It was an early diagnosis of a mental illness.
And in the middle of eighth grade, no less.
I wanted to vent my frustration to someone.
Honestly, hasn’t everyone thought, “Kuh! The black flame dragon in my left arm is going wild!” at least once?
I was no different.
So, I ended up complaining to the ex-hunter who lived next door.
Yeah.
I admit it.
I’m a total idiot.
Of all people, I had to tell him.
Thanks to that, I became a certified idiot, verified by a hunter himself.
My burning eighth-grade syndrome was extinguished in an instant.
After that, I stopped paying attention to the numbers.
It never did me any good anyway.
The only silver lining was that after getting certified as an idiot, my interactions with the neighbor increased.
“Hey, old man, why do you always smirk when you see me? You want your head cracked open?”
“You just radiate this idiotic aura. It’s hilarious.”
The neighbor, who looked like the perfect embodiment of a jobless bum, chuckled at me.
“Hunters are human too. There’s bound to be an idiot or two among them.”
“Where else would you find an idiot who shouts ‘Status Window!!!’ at the top of his lungs? Right here!”
“You son of a bitch.”
I was pissed, but I didn’t pick a fight.
He was a hunter, after all, even if he looked like a bum.
But if I just stand there and keep taking it, what would that make me?
Ah, right. This is what they call “choking on your pride.”
It felt like a story that was bound to end early.
“Watch your head, old man. I’m gonna crack it open one day.”
“Say whatever you want. It doesn’t faze me.”
Oh yeah?
“I’m only giving you dried pollack for dinner tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
That’s right, don’t get cocky, you bastard.
There was one peculiar thing I noticed about the neighbor as we got closer.
Despite his seemingly carefree lifestyle, he often acted in a way that suggested he knew things in advance.
For example, he’d randomly take an umbrella with him, and then it would start pouring even though there was no rain in the forecast.
Or he’d suddenly grab a shopping basket and head out, and the supermarket would then have a surprise sale.
You could dismiss it as coincidence once or twice.
But when it happens repeatedly?
That’s when suspicion arises.
“Old man, why do you always seem to know what’s going to happen?”
“You’ll understand when you experience it yourself.”
One day, I went to him directly and asked, but all I got were cryptic answers.
“You always twist your words.”
“Your life is what’s twisted. Ending up in a mental hospital because of your eighth-grade syndrome? You should be grateful you’re not suicidal.”
“You bastard.”
“Anyway, you’ll find out soon enough.”
The neighbor, who had been speaking in riddles, suddenly stood up, pulled out an unopened CD from his bookshelf, and handed it to me.
“Here. It’s a gift. The best porn I’ve ever seen.”
“But it’s still sealed. How can it be your best?”
“…I’ve already seen it.”
“…? Okay, whatever.”
He kept avoiding eye contact, and he seemed unusually anxious today.
But for a teenager with raging hormones like me, every piece of porn was like an oasis in the desert.
I carefully tucked it into my pocket, afraid it might get damaged.
It was now the dead of the night, and my parents were sound asleep.
I quietly started playing the porn in the darkness for a secretive and sensual experience.
The familiar warning message and boring opening sequence played.
But I endured.
Patience is the best spice, after all.
After what felt like an eternity, a woman finally appeared in the center of the screen.
Wow.
Amazing.
I’m so glad I’m alive…
In my mind, I saw myself with a determined expression, signing my name on a piece of paper.
Sign here!
This is a masterpiece!
I leaned closer to the screen to get a better look.
There was no mosaic, so I was sure it would be the best experience ever.
And that was the biggest mistake of my life.
…?
…Grandma?
…Why is a grandma coming out of there?
An incomprehensible reality, no, a cruel reality that shouldn’t be comprehended, was vividly imprinted in my mind.
The me in my mind who was signing the paper suddenly started committing suicide.
Oh.
Shit.
Fuck.
“Argh!!!!! You son of a bitch!!!!!”
My scream woke up my parents, who rushed out of their room in a panic.
But I couldn’t tell them the truth.
Imagine telling your parents that you screamed because you saw a porno with a grandma in it.
They would gently stroke your head and guide you somewhere.
Back to the mental hospital.
Twice before even becoming an adult?
That’s it, I’m done.
I’m gonna kill myself.
I mumbled something about seeing a cockroach to my parents, who were looking at me with suspicion.
Still not fully convinced, they reluctantly went back to their room, and I quietly lay down in bed, trying to sleep.
But the deep wound etched into my mind wouldn’t let me rest.
No.
This wasn’t just a wound.
It was an abyss.
An abyss that humans should never set foot in.
An abyss that should be sealed and sunk to the bottom of the bottomless pit.
But I had broken the seal and stepped into it.
I had touched the forbidden.
And the consequences were devastating.
The abyss settled in my mind, wriggling and flaunting its presence.
I was truly screwed.
The abyss began to eat away at my sanity with its mere existence.
My decaying mind became the perfect fuel for anger, and that anger pointed its blade towards the culprit of this whole ordeal.
‘You bastard old man… Watch your head. I’m really going to kill you.’
That was the moment I unintentionally decided on my life’s goal.
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Hahaha 🤣😂