Chapter 58…
The scenery that Lee Ji-han saw.
That clip never circulated inside Pretzel.
There was no replay left behind either—it became a bizarre piece of lost media.
The reason was simple and realistic.
It was cruel, violent, and grotesque.
Because of that, only those who had been watching Ji-han’s stream at the time saw it.
And so, it ended up becoming part of a very ghost-story-like rumor.
Of course, since the number of people who experienced that rumor exceeded tens of thousands, the gossip and information spread quickly through the community.
That’s why it truly became an urban legend.
Naturally, if Ji-han just turned the stream back on, it would have been solved easily, but—
“…Oppa, are you okay?”
“Ughhh. Didn’t expect to come down with the flu.”
“What on earth happened to you?”
The problem was that Ji-han was bedridden.
“Jihye, don’t bother your brother too much.”
“Ah, Mom! I’m nursing him!”
“Nursing, my foot! You! Stop bothering him and get out!”
“Anyway, oppa, if you get a fever, tell me, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks, Jihye.”
When he got out of the capsule, his body was burning hot.
Was it because he acted in ways the game engine wasn’t designed for?
Or maybe because he used his brain so intensely for the first time in a while?
Or perhaps… was Zombreath really cursed?
Of course, it wasn’t a curse.
Whatever the case, Ji-han was the type who pushed himself to the absolute limit with immersion and focus.
So in a way, it was only natural that he fell ill.
Ring ring, ring ring.
His phone rang. Ji-han stretched out a hand to check the call.
It was Kim Soo-ho.
—Hey, you feeling okay?
“Yeah, I’m much better now.”
—Phew. Anyway, just rest for now. Focus on recovery. I knew you’d burn out like this someday.
“…Sorry.”
—Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your viewers.
Soo-ho’s voice was calm.
Neither cold, nor pitying—just matter-of-fact.
—They’re the ones waiting desperately, and because you didn’t manage yourself, you had to cancel your stream.
“…You’re right.”
—And to think you dropped a massive hit and then suddenly went on break? Haha, they must be going crazy waiting for you.
Rustle, rustle.
—…Hey, you’re not about to get up and stream right now, are you?
“Didn’t you just say they’re waiting for me?”
—Hey, hey! I was joking! Seriously, check your fan café right now. Everyone’s just worried sick about you. Geez, can’t you even take a joke?
“Huh? Really?”
Hearing Ji-han’s dazed voice, Soo-ho chuckled.
—Yeah, really. Please, just rest. Do you realize you’ve streamed every single day this past month without a break?
At that, Ji-han thought back.
Indeed, for the past month, he had streamed without fail.
Even after family dinners, even after ad meetings.
—If you want a long streaming career, you need to rest properly when it’s time. That’s the best thing you can do.
Even if streaming was fun, streamers always hit their limits eventually.
Like a taut rubber band that snaps in the middle.
They had to constantly watch out for that.
—…And don’t forget, there’s still that cipher thing. Rest until they get back to us.
“Alright, if you put it that way.”
Ji-han chuckled, burying his face into the pillow.
—Get some rest. I’ll hang up.
“Yeah, rest well. You too.”
The call ended.
His body felt heavy. Slowly, his eyes closed.
Leaving behind the strange secret hidden within Zombreath.
* * *
While Ji-han slept…
Self-proclaimed experts were working on the puzzle he had presented.
Zombreath already had a solid fanbase, but even beyond gamers, there were plenty of people interested in solving ciphers like this.
“…This is pretty fun. Looks like a proper code.”
Scratch, scratch.
Some wrote notes while decoding.
“AI, analyze this for me.”
Others used the latest tech to try breaking it.
One way or another, the frontlines were buzzing with activity.
And as the rumor spread, more and more streamers threw themselves into Zombreath.
What had once been a high-freedom crafting game was now turning into a mystery-driven story game.
Just as JC had hoped, people were finally enjoying the “road movie” style of storytelling he wanted to create.
“…At this rate, I’ll have to speed up development.”
James Calverin—JC, or Jamie as he was sometimes called.
He read the emails pouring in from Korea and smiled.
There was something almost rebellious about him.
Stubborn, egotistical, defiant.
Fatal flaws for a developer—yet powerful strengths for a storyteller.
He was someone who always poured his energy into delivering his narrative.
“HAN.”
Easy Han.
That strange streamer’s name—though it was, of course, JC’s own misconception.
A great gift from Korea.
Thanks to him, the Zombreath devs were finally able to fully showcase the story they had created.
“I don’t know how well cosmic horror will sell in Korea, but if this blows up, we’ll have to invite him to the U.S.”
JC chuckled and went back to typing.
Zombreath 2.
The prologue of the project that would begin the moment Ji-han reached the true ending.
“I really can’t wait.”
As he drafted that prologue, his eyes still flicked over SNS mentions of his game.
The moment his work was acknowledged… he felt like a boy again.
“Someone will crack the code soon enough. There are plenty of people out there smarter than I expect.”
JC let out a rare bright smile.
“…But why hasn’t HAN streamed today?”
That smile didn’t last long.
Unaware of Ji-han’s fan café, JC was waiting anxiously across the Pacific.
For him, that day became one of the rare…
“days of disappointment.”
That’s what it was to him.
* * *
Ji-han’s head, once heavy, felt clearer now.
After some proper rest, his body had regained energy.
—Hey, Ji-han! Did you see it?
Though of course, there was someone even more energetic than rested Ji-han.
It was a call from Kim Soo-ho.
The moment he heard his excited voice, Ji-han knew something big had happened again.
“What is it? Talk slowly, I just woke up.”
Familiar with Soo-ho’s antics, Ji-han braced himself in advance.
There was a pause, as if Soo-ho was gathering his thoughts.
—Go check YouTube right now!
“That’s a bit vague, don’t you think?”
—Hahaha, no, really. Hold on, I’ll send you the link. Watch it, then call me back right away.
“…You really do whatever you want.”
Ji-han chuckled and waited for his message.
He opened the link Soo-ho sent via KokoaTalk.
It led to YouTube.
The video title:
“Advent of the Heavenly Demon: Ten Thousand Submit.”
It was 13 minutes long.
And it was all about Gangho Sword Chronicles.
“What’s this?”
He hit play.
Black screen.
Then, deeply Eastern-sounding music.
Step, step, step.
Footsteps cut through the melody.
The camera panned upward: legs, torso, chest, shoulders.
Curated like an exhibition.
And finally—
The ominous red glow of the Heavenly Demon’s eyes.
His face filled the frame.
Flash!
At that instant, the Heavenly Demon leaped skyward.
Like a bird bursting from a cage, he soared through the air with breathtaking agility.
“…Wait, that’s me.”
It was a version of himself he’d never seen before.
Though he quickly guessed the source.
All his gameplay,
the POV shifts Soo-ho had done for viewers—
everything had been used as raw material.
Bang! Boom!
The music swelled dramatically as the Heavenly Demon launched into the air.
Swish!
With bold fonts flashing “First Step into the Martial World,” he tore through countless enemies.
Disciples, masters, sect leaders—
all crushed under his power.
He strode forward, undefeated.
Like the Heavenly Demon descending from Ten Thousand Peaks, trampling Central Plains beneath his feet.
It was relentless, yet never tiring.
Chat reactions interspersed.
His usual goofy moments slipped in.
Even bits of humor, rounding out the 13-minute spectacle.
And at the climax—
The Great Battle of Righteous vs. Demonic.
The most important event of Ji-han’s Gangho Sword Chronicles.
Rival streamers, one after another, falling before him.
The shadow of the cheater who’d used unauthorized programs appeared faintly, cleverly hidden in edits.
Then, the masters of those rivals challenged him.
The Heavenly Demon accepted every duel without hesitation.
Arrogant, domineering—yet regal.
In that video, Ji-han was the Heavenly Demon.
Finally, his duel with Namgung-hyung.
Swish!
Slash!
Boom!
Crash!
If the trailer had been cut to tease,
this was a full-fledged tribute to Ji-han.
Every fight, from start to finish, meticulously edited.
The heavens split, mountains were cleaved,
earth shattered, lakes boiled.
A desperate duel, both unleashing every ounce of power.
Cinematic exchanges of probing and parrying.
Followed by an all-out brawl.
For the first time, Ji-han was completely absorbed in a video dedicated to him.
It showed how others saw him.
Let him feel their perspective.
Embarrassing to admit—but he looked cool.
No, beyond cool.
He was moved beyond words.
After watching the whole video—
“Soo-ho, I saw it. Amazing. This, this—no, I can’t even.”
—Hahaha! Lost your ability to speak, huh?
Soo-ho laughed, clearly expecting this reaction.
It was the first time he’d ever seen Ji-han so fired up.
Refreshing, but this wasn’t the main point.
—Anyway, Ji-han…
What came next, Soo-ho knew would knock him flat.
Maybe he just wanted to tease his friend.
—So, what do you say we… contact this person?
His voice was mischievous, full of energy.
For the first time, Soo-ho felt like he’d actually beaten the usually mechanical Ji-han.
And it made his heart itch with excitement.
