Murim Login - Chapter 40

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 40
I am soaring through the sky. My massive wings spread wide, cleaving through the wind.
Below me lies a towering, precipitous gorge. Shaped like a bottle, it teems with humans—hundreds of them by my estimate.
A man standing at the center bellows with all his might.
“Do not fight for the Taewon Jin Family!”
Then the earth trembles. Trees sway, and mountain birds take flight.
Glancing back, a colossal cloud of dust sweeps through the gorge, bearing down upon us.
“Fight for yourselves! Fight for the blood and loved ones who will be trampled by our enemies!”
He draws his blade and roars.
“Face them with the pride of a warrior! I shall do the same!”
Hundreds of weapons are drawn in unison. The man strides forward, taking the lead. The dust cloud that had swept across the gorge disperses, revealing countless figures.
– Raaaah!
– Annihilate the Taewon Jin Family dogs!
Suddenly, the man lifts his gaze. Upon spotting me, he grins wickedly.
“This feels exquisite.”
The moment I see his face, strength drains from my wings. I plummet into the depths of consciousness.
* * *
“Gasp, gasp gasp!”
Flailing my wings—no, my arms—desperately, I finally realize.
‘It was just a dream.’
Thank heavens. I thought I was dying. After catching my breath, the state of my room comes into focus.
– Breaking news. A new Gate has appeared at Exit 3 of Hapjeong Station. Mana readings indicate it is a C-rank Gate….
A small television on my desk displays the announcer. And.
“What the hell was that?”
Elder Brother Jin-ho stands there. A pot lid in one hand, chopsticks in the other, he regards me with an expression of utter bewilderment.
“Some kind of performance art?”
“Shut up. I was dreaming.”
“A swimming dream?”
“A falling dream.”
“Lucky you. You’ll grow taller.”
He tosses out the hollow remark and naturally slurps up his noodles. For a moment, I’m confused whether this is even my room.
“This is my room, right?”
“Supposedly.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Has it been a day or two?”
That actually sounds plausible. I almost fell for it.
“Just turn off the TV. People are trying to sleep.”
“Some inconsiderate bastard even hit me in the throat while I was sleeping.”
….
This guy’s got a silver tongue, I’ll give him that.
“If you’ve got nothing to say, eat some ramen. I made five bowls because I thought you’d wake up hungry.”
Foresight on display. I accepted the chopsticks, my heart swelling with emotion.
Was this ordinary ramen? This was ramen after a month without it. The aroma that stirred the appetite, noodles cooked to perfect tenderness, and a broth seasoned with sliced green chilies into a spicy perfection.
‘I’ve lost my mind, absolutely lost it.’
Slurrrp.
When I came to my senses, it was all over. Sung Jin-ho was staring blankly at me as I licked the bottom of the pot clean.
“I thought you were filming a commercial. Is this the first time you’ve ever eaten ramen?”
“It’s the first ramen I’ve eaten since coming back.”
“Not that again.”
“Try eating nothing but Chinese food for a month, then have ramen. Michelin has nothing on this.”
“Stop it. It’s not funny anymore.”
The look of someone tired of the joke. But this time, I had something to back me up.
“Look at this first, then we can talk.”
“What is it?”
“What else? A product manual.”
“…Don’t tell me.”
“Yeah, it was inside that capsule. Read it.”
“You’re throwing away junk that’s over twenty years old and putting something like this inside?”
Sung Jin-ho tilted his head in confusion before starting to read the manual. Within seconds, he looked up.
“The printing’s messed up. The manufacturing date is January 1st, 2020.”
I thought the same thing at first. At first.
“That might not be a printing error.”
“Huh?”
“No, that’s still just speculation, so let’s skip it. What about the other parts? The model name and manufacturer listed there—have you heard of them?”
When it came to electronic devices, especially capsules, he couldn’t resist.
He was apparently a named user on relevant websites and even ran an IT expert blog.
But the answer that came immediately shattered my expectations.
“No.”
Well, it didn’t show up in internet searches either, so in a way it was an obvious result. But I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.
“You don’t know at all? You’re supposed to be completely sharp with this stuff.”
“That’s true. But I have no idea about this.”
Sung Jin-ho scratched his head.
“An illegally modified capsule? Or a custom job? Honestly, I’ve never seen a design like that.”
The more I heard, the more disheartening it became.
“Yeah, the design is whatever. But I’m someone who knows every model from the original to the latest. Everything that’s ever been released domestically.”
“And?”
“The model name listed here. The manufacturer. Completely unfamiliar.”
“Could it be a foreign manufacturer?”
“Good grief. You idiot, you moron, you absolute fool.”
Sung Jin-ho thrust the manual at me with an exasperated expression.
“Read the first line.”
“A product manual?”
“That’s right. In Korean, Korean!”
“Ah.”
“If H Software—whether domestically or internationally manufactured—goes so far as to produce manuals in Korean, there’s no way they’re unknown. There aren’t hundreds or thousands of capsule manufacturers in that industry.”
I felt like a complete idiot. What did I know about capsules anyway? That’s when Jin-ho spoke up.
“Wait a moment.”
He pulled out his smartphone and tapped the screen—clearly searching for something. But the results were predictable.
“Damn it, only adult sites are showing up.”
Well, that’s not so bad.
“It’s not even a shell company. Why isn’t anything coming up?”
“Try reading the back pages too.”
If I read all the way to the last page, I’d really feel like I’d been possessed by a ghost. Jin-ho handed over the manual with a serious expression.
Once. And then again.
“Incredible, right?”
“Yeah. Incredible.”
My voice was hollow.
“You’re telling me to look at a blank page. That’s incredible.”
“What?”
“I was wondering why the manual was so sloppy. No explanation of capsule components, no operating instructions, and even the model name, manufacturer, and manufacturing date that are there are a mess.”
“Wait, blank? What are you talking about!”
“Look at this humanities major acting so naturally clueless.”
I frantically snatched the manual and read it. The content I’d seen before falling asleep was right there. The second page had warnings. The last page had key features.
“You can’t see this?”
“Stop it. You’re scaring me.”
That expression. That tone. He’s serious. The text I can see doesn’t appear to him.
Or perhaps…
‘This content only appears to me.’
I remained frozen like that for a while.
* * *
Pshhh—
I emerged from the capsule on unsteady legs. With its glossy exterior, this thing resembled a giant egg—the latest model capsule released last month.
“Oh, you’re out already. Did you try the game I recommended?”
The Capsule Room owner sitting at the counter asked, and I responded with my soul half-departed.
“Yes.”
The virtual reality game the owner had recommended was a mega-hit with ten million concurrent players. They said it had incredible graphics and excellent freedom, commanding over 70% market share.
“The graphics are insane, right?”
I logged into the game. Seeing the graphics, I thought: Am I insane?
‘This is supposed to be the best virtual reality game on the market?’
The graphics were good, I’ll admit that. But it stopped there.
The NPCs’ appearances and movements, their conversational patterns, the five senses I experience through my character—everything felt unnatural. It was a ‘game’, but it never truly felt like ‘reality’.
“Do you happen to have any games with a Murim setting?”
“Ah, so you’re interested in Murim-style games? We do have quite a few. What’s the title of the game you’re looking for?”
“Murim.”
“Murim Online?”
“No. It’s an open-world style game. Single-player.”
“Is there a Murim game like that?”
That figured. There was nothing more to hear. As I stumbled out the door, the owner called out to me.
“Come again!”
I wouldn’t. Not in a million years.
* * *
Hope Gosiwon.
Sitting beneath the worn, rusted sign, I pulled out my smartphone. The moment the dial tone finished, the other person picked up.
Click.
– Yeah, what.
My one and only nemesis—no, my younger sister Ha-yeon. The instant I heard her characteristically rude voice, my throat tightened.
– Hello?
“…Yeah.”
– Why’d you call?
“Just wanted to hear your voice.”
A deathly silence fell between us.
– I’m hanging up.
“No, wait. Just wait!”
– You’ve got three seconds. Make it count.
Damn brat…
Yeah, this was Ha-yeon alright. Thanks to her, the tears that had briefly welled up dried as completely as sand near the pyramids.
“What’s Mom doing?”
– She said she had something to do and went out. If you’re curious, call her yourself.
I deliberately hadn’t. Just hearing this brat’s voice made my chest ache—if I heard Mom’s voice, I’d probably break down like a child.
I quickly changed the subject.
“What about you?”
– What else would a third-year student with 120 days until the college entrance exam be doing? Studying.
Her tone was sharper than usual. The stress of exam prep was clearly taking its toll.
“How’s the studying going?”
– I bombed the July mock exam. Failed to manage my condition properly, got even the easy questions wrong. Man, the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get.
“It’s fine. As long as you do well on the actual test. How many did you get wrong?”
– Two.
“That’s still a grade 1. What about the other subjects?”
– Two wrong across all subjects.
“Huh?”
– One in Korean history. One in math.
“…Two subjects total? Are you serious?”
– Of course that’s what I meant.
Smart girl….
I knew she studied well, but not to this extent. Thinking back to my own grades during school, it seems genetic talent really does exist.
“You study a bit?”
– From your perspective as an older brother, isn’t that incredibly well?
“W-what nonsense! I studied quite a bit too, you know? You don’t remember because you were still in elementary school….”
– Your report card came out during the deep cleaning last week. There were so many grade 7s it looked like a jackpot slot machine.
“You need spending money, don’t you? How much are cosmetics these days?”
– That’s pathetic. Really.
Cruel girl….
The call lasted over ten minutes. I mostly listened. Ha-yeon’s voice chattered on about studying, school, and some boy she was interested in—it had grown noticeably brighter than before.
Suddenly, I fell into a strange reverie.
‘I really did come back.’
Had I been dreaming, or lost in delusion?
In reality, only a single day had passed, yet inexplicable and impossible things had occurred.
But now I chose not to understand.
‘Because I’ve returned to reality now.’
And I had to live in this reality.
My family is here, and I am here. That’s enough. I simply had a strange dream for a brief moment. The kind of dream that would naturally fade with time.
– So that’s why I….
“Yeah.”
Listening to my chattering younger sister’s voice, I rose from my seat. It was time to leave beneath that worn, rusted sign and return to my room.
* * *
Zing. Ziiing.
Sung Jin-ho opened his eyes groggily. His smartphone on the nightstand was ringing. Six in the morning. The signal to begin another day.
“Ugh, I’m dying.”
Five years since leaving home. The moldy stench that pierced my nostrils every morning had become all too familiar. Sung Jin-ho stuffed cigarettes and a lighter into his pocket with half-closed eyes and left the room.
‘Nothing wakes you up like a cigarette.’
He shuffled up to the rooftop in his slippers and had just put a cigarette to his lips when—
Thud.
“Huh?”
What was that sound? As I leaned over the railing with the question, a chunk of metal in the recycling station directly below caught my eye.
And a burly young man staring at it intently.
“Hey! Jin Tae-kyung!”
At Sung Jin-ho’s shout, Jin Tae-kyung looked up.
“What?”
“You throwing that away?”
The chunk of metal was the old capsule room he’d picked up the day before. It seemed he was trying to discard it after failing to do anything useful with it.
‘For something like that, he was awfully serious though… Well, it’s probably nonsense.’
Sung Jin-ho let out a soft chuckle.
“Why are you throwing it away? You’re not going back to Murim?”
“You actually believed that?”
Jin Tae-kyung laughed back at him. But to Sung Jin-ho, who had watched over him for so long, something about that smile seemed off.
‘What is it?’
An odd sensation. Jin Tae-kyung waved his hand at the uneasy Sung Jin-ho and began descending the hillside.
“Where are you going, you bastard! Aren’t we eating breakfast together later?”
“I’ve got work to do!”
Jin Tae-kyung left without even looking back. Sung Jin-ho took another drag from his half-burned cigarette.
“The kid’s really working hard…”
Soon Jin Tae-kyung’s figure vanished from sight. It was then that Sung Jin-ho’s eyes caught on an old capsule room as he was about to leave and stub out his cigarette in the flowerpot.
‘The manufacturer was H Software, wasn’t it?’
It was probably just a crude prank, but there was no harm in checking it out.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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