The world is in chaos.
I’m still not sure if what I’m seeing is real.
But the people living in this world go on without any issues.
No one points this out.
They just live their lives as they should.
So I guess I must be the problem.
That guy running away after smoking in the alley? 21.
The neighbor man who came over for some side dishes? 110.
That crazy cat lady over there? 56.
Wait.
Just a moment ago, it went up to 57.
And the red number rising with a lion’s roar.
What’s that about?
What do you mean what’s that?
It’s the numbers above those people’s heads.
Do you know what it means?
No? I don’t either.
*
Second year of middle school.
A time of turbulent emotions and heightened sensitivity.
And it’s also the prime time for creating the embarrassing moments that’ll make you kick your blanket in shame for years to come.
This idiot of a thing started appearing at that time.
A real-time, rising black number.
And right next to it, a red number in parentheses.
Though the numbers differ, every person has one.
Except for me, of course.
And if I were to ask someone outright, all I get back is, “What’s with this idiot?”
So, let’s think about this.
One day, something suddenly appears above everyone’s heads.
Only I can see it.
All the signs were clear.
It’s just like in those hunter novels, “I Can Only See It.”
When you’re in your middle school phase and think of a protagonist, what comes to mind?
Right.
“I can’t resist a status window.”
The moment I got home, I dug out my winter scarf and wrapped it around my neck like a muffler.
Then I posed in front of the mirror and started shouting at the top of my lungs.
“Status Window!!!”
“Status!!!”
“System!!!”
After going on like that for a while, what appeared instead of the longed-for status window? My parents.
They looked at me with serious expressions and suddenly burst into tears.
Then they hurriedly took me somewhere.
Amusement park?
Nope, a mental hospital!
“How did you get here?”
“……Huh?”
In the end, what I got was neither a special ability nor a new awakening, but an early assessment of mental illness.
At the age of second-year middle school, no less.
I wanted to vent this injustice to someone.
Honestly, hasn’t everyone at least once thought, “Cough! My black flame dragon is going wild!”?
I’m not any different.
Then, by chance, I vented to the neighbor man, a former hunter.
Yeah.
I admit it.
I’m a total idiot.
Of all the people to say it to, it had to be him.
Thanks to that, I became the real idiot recognized by a hunter.
That fiery middle school phase quickly fizzled out.
Since then, I’ve stopped caring about the numbers.
After all, there was nothing good to see anyway.
The only outcome I got was the increased interaction with the neighbor man since being certified as an idiot.
“Why do you split when you see me, uncle? You make me want to split my head!”
“It’s because I sense your idiot vibe when I see you.”
The uncle, looking like a perfect unemployed person on the outside, was grinning at me.
“Well, even hunters have an idiot or two among them.”
“Where’s the idiot that loudly shouts ‘Status Window!!!’? Right here!”
“F*cking hell.”
I was annoyed but chose not to fight back.
After all, he’s a hunter, no matter how washed-up he is.
But if I just take his insults, what am I?
Ah, this is like sweet potato.
This is the moment to step back.
“Watch your head. I’ll break it soon.”
“Say whatever you want. It won’t hit me.”
Oh really?
“I’ll just give you the side dish of dried pollack today.”
“Sorry.”
How dare you?
One peculiar thing I learned while getting close to the uncle was that, despite his laid-back lifestyle, he surprisingly often acted ahead of time.
Let’s give some examples.
One time, he took out an umbrella without warning, and suddenly an unexpected downpour hit.
On another day, when he carried a shopping basket, there was a surprise special discount at the market.
You could chalk up a couple of those to coincidence.
But if this keeps happening?
That’s when it enters the realm of suspicion.
“Why are you always behaving in advance, uncle?”
“You’ll understand once you experience it.”
One day, I went to ask him directly, but all I got back was vague nonsense.
“Wow, your words are all tangled.”
“What’s tangled is your life. Mental hospital for having middle school syndrome? Aren’t you suicidal?”
“F*ck you.”
“Anyway, you’ll find out soon enough.”
With that elusive answer, the uncle suddenly stood up, took a pristine, unopened CD from the shelf, and handed it to me without warning.
“A gift. The best movie in my life.”
“No, it’s new. What do you mean ‘life’s masterpiece’?”
“…I’ve already seen it.”
“…? Okay, I get it for now.”
The uncle, who kept avoiding eye contact, looked strangely uneasy today.
But at my energetic age, every single film seems like an oasis in the desert.
Just in case it got damaged, I tucked it away safely.
And now it’s the middle of the night, with my parents soundly asleep.
I began to quietly play the film in the darkness for a secret and thrilling experience.
The usual warning and boring opening.
But I held my ground.
Patience is the best condiment, after all.
After what felt like a short yet long time, finally, a woman appeared right in the center of the screen.
Wow.
That’s insane.
She’s alive looking like that…
In my mind, my serious self was signing on the paper.
“Sign here!
This is indeed a masterpiece!”
To see it clearer, I leaned in closer to the screen.
There was no mosaic; I was certain it would be the best experience.
And that was the biggest mistake of my life.
…..?
Grandma?
…Why is Grandma showing up there?
An incomprehensible reality—or rather, a brutal reality I shouldn’t recognize—slammed into my brain.
My mind that was signing suddenly began to fall into despair.
Ah.
Damn it.
F*ck.
“AAAAAAAHHHH!!!! YOU F*CKING IDIOT!!!!!!!!”
My scream woke my parents, who rushed out of the room in shock.
But I couldn’t just say what happened.
Imagine saying you’re screaming because you saw a film with your grandma.
They’d tenderly pat me and guide me to the mental hospital.
Two trips to the mental hospital before even becoming an adult?
That’s definitely a sign—a death wish, f*ck.
I made up a story about a cockroach coming out when my parents looked at me with suspicious eyes.
As they still couldn’t shake their doubts, they reluctantly returned to their bedroom, and I quietly lay in bed trying to sleep.
But the deep scars carved into my mind wouldn’t allow me to rest.
No.
This isn’t just a simple scar.
It’s an abyss.
An abyss that humans should never tread upon.
It needed to be sealed deep down in this abyss.
Yet here I was, stepping right into it.
I had unleashed the forbidden.
And the cost was horrifying.
The abyss twisted in my mind, flaunting its existence.
I was truly screwed.
The mere existence of the abyss began to rot my sanity slowly.
That despair quickly became excellent fuel for rage, and my anger directed itself toward the root of this mess.
“F*ck you, uncle… Keep that head safe. I really will kill you.”
And in that unintended moment, I determined a goal for my life.
