Chapter 12
Shadow (2)
“…What the hell was that just now?”
After making a vague excuse and sending Inha off, Sehyun sat clutching his head in deep thought.
For the artifact to activate in her hands…
That should have been impossible.
Without handling starlight, there was no way to use an artifact.
Could it be… an Awakening, like mine?
No. That was jumping to conclusions.
Awakening was an exceptionally rare phenomenon.
Sehyun had his own special condition — regression.
But Inha was different.
She was just an ordinary civilian, with no ties to players whatsoever.
To assume she had awakened just because the artifact had activated was too hasty.
First, I need to check whether the artifact itself has a flaw.
Sehyun carefully examined the sword.
He poured starlight into it, running a full performance diagnostic.
There could have been an error in the engraving process, causing leaks in the starlight circulation.
Or maybe because the soul stone had been embedded raw, it had activated on its own.
There were many variables he hadn’t accounted for.
Wooong—
Just then, the soul stone glimmered faintly in response.
“…Wait. Could it be because of this?”
Residual starlight remained from his diagnostic infusion.
When he added intent to accelerate the sword—
Paaang—!
The engravings flared and an explosive reaction burst forth.
So that was it.
As long as the soul stone retained will, the user’s starlight was nothing more than a switch to trigger its response.
The lingering starlight alone had been enough to make it react, initiating circulation in the engravings.
Of course, it wouldn’t activate without intent to use its power, but that too made sense.
Inha’s movements must have been the trigger.
Her mythos was born of imagination, and the sword was no different.
By immersing herself in the sword dance, her motions naturally harmonized with the artifact and manifested its ability.
…Good. That’s a relief.
With the mystery resolved, Sehyun let out a sigh.
If the artifact had been truly faulty, he wouldn’t have had the faintest idea what to do.
And in that case, he’d have had no choice but to drag Inha into what he was doing.
But he didn’t want her daily life to be shattered because of him.
“Daily life, huh… Come to think of it, I haven’t cared about shoots in a while.”
He had forgotten, too preoccupied with preparing for the future.
The memory of a past when he clung to trivial daily matters suddenly came back.
…I was so carefree and happy back then.
The old Sehyun only obsessed over cosplay shoots, everything else pushed aside.
The worlds Inha created were his everything, and the countless weapons with stories were his only friends.
He had lived without worries in that kind of life.
But now, he felt like a child who had lost his innocence.
A faint bitterness welled up inside him.
“…Maybe I should take a breather once in a while.”
This was, after all, a daily life he had managed to reclaim.
It wouldn’t hurt to go back, even a little, to the way things were.
Sehyun opened his mail for the first time in ages.
“What are you doing?”
“We’ve got one shoot left with Director Yoo Mintae, right? I’m checking the concept.”
“…Really? I thought you were too busy.”
“Why worry about that? I’m fine.”
“Wait here! I’ll bring what I’ve written so far!”
Inha bounced out the door and soon returned, her arms full of proposals and concept art.
She eagerly explained one idea after another, her excitement plain to see.
Sehyun couldn’t help but smile faintly.
I guess I’ve been neglecting her too much.
Yes, the looming apocalypse weighed heavily on his mind.
Yes, there was a mountain of work to do to stay even a little ahead of the players.
But what good was racing forward if the people precious to him weren’t by his side?
He never wanted to face a world like that again.
“…So that’s the gist of the movie. Got it?”
He had only half-listened, lost in thought, but Sehyun nodded anyway.
“Yeah. I got the idea.”
The Mythical Hwarang Chronicle.
A fusion historical drama set in Joseon, about the female royal guard “Mythical Hwarang,” organized by a fictional queen.
It was a project he had worked on before — the details were familiar.
“Good. Then could you look over my plan?”
She handed him her proposal and concept sketches.
Her task was to pre-plan the scenes she’d be directing, especially the one where the warrior women compete to decide the leader of the guard.
Everything seems the same as before… Huh?
Something odd caught his eye.
The heroine’s concept changed?
Her movements, once just ordinary swordplay, now perfectly mirrored the sword dance Inha had performed yesterday.
And the sword she held—
That’s… the artifact!!
The engravings, the soul stone set in the center — identical.
Noticing his reaction, Inha fidgeted and cautiously asked,
“Can’t I use it? That sword. It was perfect.”
“I told you it isn’t fully stabilized yet.”
Sehyun flatly refused.
He had only told her there’d been a design flaw in the powder mechanism.
Since it was “gunpowder,” she wouldn’t press further… or so he thought.
“So if you fix that, it’ll be fine, right?”
“…No, I said it’s dangerous.”
Despite his warning, Inha grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
“You made it. I trust you.”
…Why was he feeling proud at a time like this?
Rubbing his oddly flushed cheeks, Sehyun sighed quietly.
With those sparkling eyes staring at him, there was no way he could break her resolve.
“…Fine. Use it.”
“Yes!!”
She really could be impossible sometimes.
Blossoms scattered in the air.
Two women stood facing each other in the arena, surrounded by a ring of spectators.
On the right, Inha raised her sword and snapped open her eyes.
Jiiing—!
At the sound of the gong, she kicked off the ground and charged.
Whoosh—
Her first strike was easily dodged, but it was only the beginning.
Saaak—
Her toes skimmed the dirt, raising dust.
Her sword’s path curved like a flowing river, the dust and silk hems caught in its current, tracing arcs through the air.
A dazzling sword dance unfolded.
Cheng—! Cheng—! Cheng—!
Her opponent blocked again and again, yet Inha’s blade only shifted its flow, endlessly striking from new angles.
Left to right, diagonal to flank.
She wielded the sword’s rhythm as if it were alive — a true sword maiden.
“Cut! Great work, everyone!”
“Wooooo—!!”
The crowd, entranced by the duel, erupted in cheers.
“You were amazing, unnie!”
“Can I take a picture? Please??”
Inha smiled awkwardly at the fans swarming her, while her scene partner clasped her hand in admiration.
“You’re really skilled.”
“You flatter me. The scene worked because you played along so well.”
Sehyun smirked at the sight.
“Meanwhile, I’m just background furniture, huh.”
It wasn’t envy, exactly.
It was just… it felt like another world.
During the Foundation shoot, there hadn’t been civilians around, so he hadn’t noticed.
But seeing this now, he realized anew just how popular Inha was.
Nobody chased him around like that, nor did he chase anyone.
So even though he’d seen this often, it always felt strangely foreign.
Click—!
While packing props, he heard a shutter. Looking up, he saw a Polaroid camera aimed at him.
The woman holding it winked playfully.
Who’s that… Ah.
It was Inha’s opponent from the scene.
She shook the freshly printed photo with a grin.
Sehyun asked with a blank look,
“…Do I know you?”
“Of course. You’re always with Chae Inha, aren’t you?”
…She knew that much?
Since he never appeared on Insta or YouTube, there was no way she should’ve known his face.
Which meant—
A hardcore fan?
She even knew facts impossible to learn without showing up on set. Clearly, not just any fan.
So that’s why she looked so thrilled fighting Inha.
Like she was trying to memorize her every move.
Probably a fangirl dream come true.
The woman waved and disappeared into the crowd.
Phew—
Exhausting.
Just a few words drained his energy.
I just want to go home. Or hole up in the workshop.
He could hammer away at weapons for dozens of hours without fatigue, but the outside world wore him out within a few.
Thinking back, Inha hadn’t been much different when she was younger.
Now that the shoot was over, he really just wanted to head home.
And I need to collect that sword quickly, too.
Of course, the one Inha held wasn’t the real artifact.
Though its engravings and jewel were identical, it was only a replica.
Even so, he had no intention of letting her keep it too long.
I don’t like this. Inha getting curious about artifacts… it makes me uneasy.
He shouted to her through the crowd.
“Hey, Chae Inha! Enough of that, let’s— huh?”
But she was gone.
Sehyun glanced around, puzzled.
“Where’d she go now?”
Riiing—!!
Just then, his phone rang. Inha’s number.
[Hello?]
But the voice on the other end was a stranger’s.
Vroooom—!
“Hey, Senpai.”
“What?”
“That number 94 guy—what’s he like?”
“…You really asking because you don’t know?”
Kale tossed an apple up and down in the passenger seat, chatting idly with Rachel, who was driving.
“I mean, I know. I just wanted to make conversation.”
“Then pull up another data file instead of wasting time.”
Her curt reply made Kale pout.
“Ugh, seriously! Do you know how many boring assignments we’ve had today? Not a single fun one! And when I ask for one tiny story, my beloved senpai can’t even humor me?”
Rachel covered one ear against his rapid-fire complaints.
“Be a little more lovable first, then maybe.”
“Aw, come on, senpai~! You always say data isn’t everything. I wanna hear what you think. What’s 94 really like?”
Rachel let out a long sigh.
Subject 94. Codename: Phantom.
A hitman the management team called in only for tricky cases or special circumstances.
“He’s… a double-edged sword. Mishandle him and we’ll be cut too.”
Phantom was unpredictable.
Within the contract terms, he executed flawlessly.
But leave even the smallest loophole, and he’d exploit it, throwing everything off.
That was why every detail — location, conditions, setup — had to be airtight.
Such caution and precision were required to use Phantom properly.
And Rachel was one of the few capable of it.
The way to handle such a dangerous yet effective blade was simple:
“If you don’t want to get cut, don’t swing it.”
That was what strategic weapons were for.
As long as you held the hilt and showed the enemy the edge, you achieved your goal.
Just the existence of such a deterrent made management’s job easier.
“This operation’s the same. We don’t plan on killing anyone.”
They would merely threaten — until the prey panicked and tripped over their own feet.
If we bait the players, players will come.
All they had to do was wait and see who took it.
Vroooom—!
“Whoa!”
Kale was thrown back into his seat as Rachel suddenly accelerated.
“Since we don’t know when 94 will finish setting the stage, we’d better wrap our end up fast.”
Failure wasn’t a concern with Phantom.
The only worry was that he might go too far.
Rachel smirked, pressing the accelerator deeper.
