By Zephyria 
He wanted to live. To be precise, he didn’t want to die.
He wanted to meet Jin Mu-hae. Because all the value this world possessed derived from the protagonist.
Unlike others, he was brave even in a broken world; he didn’t succumb to fear, and he knew how to strive for his own survival.
He did not yield to hardship and adversity, and eventually, he changed the world. A world where Crystal Blue had vanished might be far from a utopia, but at least humanity had gained a new future.
He admired him. He yearned to be like him. He dreamed of him being by his side, imagining himself adventuring together with him.
Even if it was a perilous world where he had killed Jin Mu-hae 48 times in Chapter 1 alone during his first playthrough, it was fine. And after that…
‘I had become an Aberrant.’
When he had no memories of the bunker, Joo-oh was simply miserable. He was scared, lonely, and isolated.
He merely desired survival, but he didn’t know if that was due to instinct or because there was some important purpose he couldn’t recall.
Then, after meeting Jin Mu-hae, it didn’t matter anymore. It was okay even if he couldn’t remember the past.
The shock he felt when he first saw the tail and the four fingers seemed to have flown away and vanished along with the excessive 15 years of the past.
‘Jin Mu-hae. I like him.’
He liked Jin Mu-hae. He liked Jin Mu-hae so, so much.
Having stepped beyond the limits of the game, he had warm, large hands. He gave looks and lines that didn’t appear in the fixed script.
Unlike Joo-oh’s own playthrough, where he acted like a miser to save every single penny, Mu-hae consistently bought the Fruit Tornadoes that his housemate loved.
Though he became a bit irritable at times, he was just as soft. That was why he liked the real Jin Mu-hae as much as—no, much, much, much more than—the Jin Mu-hae from the game.
“Phew.”
Joo-oh now looked back at Jin Mu-hae. As if he had been looking this way already, their eyes met instantly with those unwavering brown pupils.
“What have you even done to be sighing?”
Despite his words, the muscles under his eyes moved minutely. Joo-oh liked the face that was trying hard to erase a smile, and he almost took a photo with the Link Watch again.
“What were you thinking about this time?”
“Thinking?”
“Weren’t you just spacing out and racking your brain before you sighed?”
“I sighed because I’m happy.”
It wasn’t a lie. He really did it because he was happy. He liked Jin Mu-hae, and he liked this world of 「La Vida Blue」.
He had liked it from the start, but now he liked it even more, to the point where he was chewing over the resolution he made on the first day of his possession.
‘I don’t want to die. No matter what.’
Of course, Joo-oh still absolutely did not want to die.
The thought of fleeing Goryeo City, leaving behind hot dogs with sweet and spicy sauce, meat skewers with unique spice smells, and piles of tinkle friends and various collections, was far too sad.
But at the same time, he wanted to see the upheaval of this world he cherished. The story had changed quite a bit because of his efforts, but he couldn’t be certain if even the ending had changed.
The end of Crystal Blue was the thick foundation of the character Jin Mu-hae, whom Joo-oh loved…
He decided to prepare for the worst. He would think about what choice to make if Jin Mu-hae’s fate couldn’t break the fixed mold and flowed as it was.
Joo-oh was now a thinking Joo-oh. Beyond mere thought, he had to reason, judge, and for the first time since becoming a veteran of 「La Vida Blue」, face an unknown path by Jin Mu-hae’s side.
[What the shapes say]
The sigils left wherever the hand of Return touched.
Their meaning dictates the direction to move forward.
“Hey, Jin Mu-hae.”
“What.”
“Why was there nothing there?”
At the nonchalant question, Jin Mu-hae’s gaze returned. His brown eyes were filled with complex emotions and doubt.
After finding a clue in the westernmost building of Goryeo City, Joo-oh had gone straight to the building with the triangular roof with Jin Mu-hae.
The single-story house with a broken door had traces of homeless people or vagrants, but there wasn’t a single piece of furniture.
Whether the owner had gone somewhere or not, everything down to the last spoon had been stripped clean; it was no longer a place where people lived.
He had searched that dust pit diligently. He tapped the walls and observed the broken floors here and there.
Even when Jin Mu-hae told him it was time to go, he refused twice and kept wandering. Thinking that there must be something since the Sigil of Return pointed there, he had even secretly licked the doorknob when Jin Mu-hae wasn’t looking.
‘There’s nothing. Let’s go.’
Joo-oh was someone who had solved the puzzles of 「La Vida Blue」 until he was sick of them. If he couldn’t find it, there really was no device there.
In the end, he returned to Starlight Road, glancing back regretfully. Since then, Jin Mu-hae had maintained a lukewarm expression.
‘He’s expressionless, but I know.’
It was Jin Mu-hae’s usual calm face. Except for the occasional outbursts, there was almost no change in his expression.
Still, Joo-oh knew. His expressionless face was divided into five or six types, harboring different emotions depending on the situation.
The one he had now was the face he showed when a Quest glitched. It was the look of someone intentionally ignoring something while pretending to be calm.
It was only after a long time that Joo-oh had realized he had been trying to take a step back from the assigned mission at that time.
‘Does he not want to do the Quest again?’
Seeing that there was no infinite loading when viewing the Quest, it probably wasn’t to that extent.
Jin Mu-hae had moved diligently at the donation party and in the west of the slums.
However, he often fell into thought, as if he had discovered a sticking point.
Joo-oh guessed it would be about the West Wind. Because around this time, Quests regarding her used to progress.
The fact that Jin Mu-hae, who had lived completely alone… well, the fact that he had a blood relative was a pretty intense story for Joo-oh as well. He could understand.
“Why was there nothing there?”
“…”
“Why was there nothing there?”
“I didn’t not hear you, so stop asking.”
Only after Jin Mu-hae got annoyed did the persistent questioning stop. Joo-oh pouted slightly and flopped down on the sofa.
Perhaps there weren’t many days left for them to be together. Thinking that made him a bit sad, so he let out a huff.
He felt a stinging gaze on the side of his head as he turned away. No matter what emotion it held, he loved his gaze.
So, Joo-oh decided to let him off the hook for his bad mood to this extent.
Whether he knew it or not, Jin Mu-hae was clicking his tongue and making a fuss.
* * *
Going to an area more crime-ridden than Starlight Road wasn’t a wrong choice.
There, Jin Mu-hae saw a welcome greeting someone had prepared for him.
But that was all. Just like in Sakdal, even after entering the building the sigil pointed to, no stepping stones to move forward were visible.
After returning empty-handed, Mu-hae repeatedly thought of the shapes. Square. Circle. Triangle. Meaningless marks, then and now.
Because there was a vague inkling, he couldn’t shake the thought from his head.
“Don’t stuff candy wrappers into the gaps of the sofa. If I catch you, you’re banned from the sofa.”
“…I was storing them.”
“Store them in a clump in the study or put them in the cabinet. No, actually, don’t put them in the study either. Just throw them away.”
He recalled when he and Joo-oh discovered Dmitri’s residence. At that time, Mu-hae was able to enter after going through a tedious process.
If his memory served him right, the square was the earth, the circle was the sky, and the triangle was human. However, this couldn’t be applied here as is.
The code obtained from the frame had defined the three shapes with different meanings.
[SHELL]-G (D2)vSUN
The square was Goryeo City. The circle was the district, and the triangle was the direction.
At this point, rather than the three shapes having a specific meaning, it was closer to fitting them in according to the situation.
‘Or maybe it’s because the people who used them were all different.’
Dmitri was a researcher from Solar City who had never belonged to Return. The big shot whose identity had yet to be uncovered knew of Return’s research, but it was unclear if he had been a member of Return.
The two must have been connected to Return somehow, but they likely hadn’t noticed each other’s existence.
If so, the only remaining methods were to scour his father’s records or raid the Jaegang District hideout and rack his brain.
If he couldn’t find it there, there was the option of asking the two people who were the pillars of Return in the past, but Director Gil was still bedridden, and Teacher Jung felt like the type to respond by telling him to figure it out himself.
“Come to think of it, what did Gu-reum say? We caused a scene at the Tamjeunggwan before leaving.”
“She probably handled it. Isn’t that why we sent her?”
He asked so quickly. Recalling the round head that had been slapped and patted on the crown without hesitation by an outside researcher, Mu-hae’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Right. Thinking about it, there was Gu-reum. She was the person who had supported Mu-hae’s journey so far and an assistant to Return.
If it were Gu-reum, she might know at least one story regarding the sigils.
[Do you have time?]
Jin Mu-hae delivered his business abruptly without a single greeting.
It was because Gu-reum didn’t seem like the type to care about formalities anyway, and he had realized she replied faster to concise contacts than to long, detailed messages.
Then, he pushed the fellow who was still pouting to make room to sit on the sofa.
As he sat lightly on the cushion that still held warmth, surprisingly, the Link Watch vibrated almost immediately.
Vrrr-.
[Message not sent: 228 Recipient does not exist]
Upon checking the content with anticipation, Mu-hae’s face turned cold.
232 – I Became an Aberration in a Dead Game