Just to make sure, let me say this: I, Lee Taebaek, am not some cheap person who walks around with curses hanging off my lips.

Sure. Far from it.

I’m a descendant of Toegye Yi Hwang, the man gracing the 1,000-won bill. Twenty-eighth generation of the Jinseong Yi clan.

Due to my innate temperament, I never became a proper inheritor of my ancestor’s legacy, but I’d heard the “X-class scholar” label plenty of times.

So how did this happen…

“Bullshit!”

Ever since arriving in this shameless world, it felt like a rag had been stuffed in my mouth. I’d become a descendant who sullied my ancestors’ faces day in and day out.

Ah, I can no longer face the 1,000-won bill. The worthless descendant squeezed his eyes shut.

Instead, I’ll make sure to look good to Yulgok Yi I, King Sejong, and Lady Shin Saimdang. So please, forgive my failings. And the 1,000-won… well…

Reality dragged the hallucination into focus. In his sharpening vision, the letters were still total X.

“Comprehensive evaluation negative… and recent evaluation mixed? You kidding me?”

He no longer cared who edited it.

When my kid comes home with a bruise on their face, it’s not about who hit them—it’s the fact they got hit that pisses me off more.

Raken’s was like a child to Lee Taebaek, and that lovable kid had been brutally mangled by a blind blade.

“Fuck.”

When witnessing such injustice, it’s only right to let loose a double curse. It’s probably written in the Way of Confucius and Mencius that way. Or not.

At that moment, his ancestor’s roar thundered down like lightning. It reverberated with physical force.

Ignore the hallucination, Lee Taebaek.

“Let’s see what the hell they wrote.”

The evaluation items had links. Even the fine print followed Namuwiki’s standards.

Feels like it’s messing with my head even more.

The truth was, he was curious. He chewed his lower lip and raised his leaden finger anyway.

Fwaah—

Two new popup windows overlaid the existing one.

“…”

Lee Taebaek’s eyes turned ambiguous as he skimmed it quickly. The raging flames of anger cooled a bit.

Summarizing the tirade in three lines…

1. Bugs galore of every kind.

2. Immersion-breaking ones, at that.

3. Gameplay’s still excellent. End.

…Actually looking at it laid out, it wasn’t that infuriating. Considering the source—Namuwiki, habitat of the true believers—it was quite lenient.

The core gripe: frequent bugs undermine the great gameplay. Far from dismissing the gameplay, they called it excellent. The Namuwiki phrasing gave it the weight of mass consensus.

He got the carrot-after-the-stick bit.

But damn, that carrot was sweet.

Criticism comes from love. Indifferent folks just ignore it.

He rubbed his nose bridge for no reason.

…If negative is this mild…

Mixed would be even better.

He closed the comprehensive evaluation window.

The recent evaluation greeted him.

Fwaah—

At a glance, recent reviews were concise unlike the comprehensive ones. Fewer words, but each packed more punch.

Operator Points: 20pt.

One cheek puffed out, shoulders rising to his ears. Whoever you are, you know your games.

Approval from the real ones.

“Mixed” in name only—a resounding positive. Early Access naturally skews conservative.

A faint smile tugged at Lee Taebaek’s lips.

Anyway…

“What’s this 1.1 patch?”

He knew the patch concept, having been in the balance adjustment department in his past life.

Balance adjustments department…

Nice name, but it was just him solo. Started with ten, nine vanished, one left.

No blame for their no-shows. That place was textbook black company.

A memory fragment flashed.

No seats in character design, so he asked. The Yama-like division head declared, “As of today, you’re Balance Adjustments Team.”

What a joke. No matter how much you dig, only heartwarming stories come out.

Low pay, overtime, upper management’s abuse.

Triple crown of black company hell drove them away—who could fault that? He too commuted with a resignation letter tucked near his heart.

Yet he stayed for his infinite love of Raken’s.

I’m one thing, but Team Leader Seo was crazy too. S University grad, department goddess, sticking with that tiny firm.

Maybe more impressive. She turned down leading corporations bound by N’s will and game publishers’ love calls to stay with him.

Point being: the one and only patch executor was here. Who else could touch Patch Notes?

Even if some Earth employee intervened—smashing possession clichés—the same held.

“Regarding balance or patches, Team Leader Seo, Raken’s de facto head, dumped it all on me and barely knew it herself…”

She could if she wanted—genius in every field.

But that possessor’s instinct? Strongly denied it.

Besides, a world spamming Patch Notes would be an undeniable trash game.

Patch Notes trivialize nerfs/buffs. They tweak individuals; patches reshape the macro world. Reality-warping, basically.

“No way.”

Lee Taebaek shook his head gently. A world manipulable by personal will would’ve collapsed ages ago.

If… just if Patch Notes were a real power, triggered by someone’s will…

The mere thought raised goosebumps.

Myths rarely grant reality-warping gods; if any, they’re sealed as passive observers.

Nah, no chance.

He shook off the ominous fancy. He closed the evaluation items and read the items below.

“Can’t see more even if I want to.”

Lee Taebaek ruffled his hair, swinging his legs off the bed one by one. All-day lying left his body aching.

Gonna get sick at this rate.

Plus, pre-evaluation tension tanked his blood sugar. Rubbing his growling stomach, he left the room.

[Name: Lee Taebaek]

Level: 12(↑7)

Life: 28 Mind: 32 Strength: 25

Eunko Bar always drew the curtains when closed, pitch dark even midday.

A few light rays slipped through curtain gaps onto the sill. Dust danced in those scant beams.

Whirr…

Rubbing his stiff nape, he opened the fridge.

“Curry today.”

He muttered under the chilled light.

The landlady cooked before leaving—usually keep-warm stuff like curry.

Bar business, but cooking rivals any restaurant.

As he rummaged…

Screech—

The shop door opened.

He froze.

Lee Taebaek halted in place, as if frozen by the fridge’s cold.

First thought: Goeun.

But the gait was unfamiliar.

Hard to see her face lately, but after that big scene? He knew it wasn’t her from the footsteps alone.

Battalion Commander Kang Hyeonseong, Elder Seo Punggae, Branch Leader Jin Sobang? Ruled out from the start.

Kang calls ahead. The other two avoid Eunko Bar.

Swish.

His right hand slipped from the fridge to the Python at his waist. The shop was shrouded in darkness. Hood hid the intruder’s face.

Still, half-bathed in outside light, the gender was clear: a slim silhouette, a woman.

Sign says CLOSE, so not a customer.

…Another thief? Home invasions were routine in this world.

She hadn’t spotted him. The fridge door had blocked the view.

Clack.

As the unknown stepped forward, white breath escaped Lee Taebaek’s lips.

“Till I count to three.”

His voice chilled like it absorbed fridge frost.

“Remove the hood and identify yourself.”

“…!!”

“One.”

Python slid smoothly from holster.

“W-Wait a sec!”

As she reached to explain…

“Three.”

“Hey, you bastard! Skipping two?!”

My call.

His finger twitched the trigger. Gunshot tore the dark.

“You crazy son of a—!”

He caught her eyes under the hood simultaneously. Crimson irises bulged, whites shoved aside.