Starting With What I Can Do (1)

“Hey, hey, Hyeonju.”

Seeing the network notice message displayed before her eyes, Hyeonseong spoke up.

“What.”

Hyeonju answered while picking up a side dish.

“I think it’d be best to kill that bastard after all.”

“You’re eating hot rice and suddenly talking nonsense again. Who.”

Hyeonju replied in an indifferent voice. Her reaction was only natural, because it was something Hyeonseong brought up at the slightest provocation.

“Who, my ass.”

Hyeonseong extended her index finger and pointed at the ceiling. It was obvious who she meant. Seeing the gesture, Hyeonju looked at her like she was pathetic.

“Yeah, figured. Do you know how many times you’ve said that already?”

“What, did I finally hit a hundred today?”

Hyeonseong replied casually to Hyeonju’s exasperated tone.

“Never mind. Let’s just not.”

As if she had run out of things to say, Hyeonju tried to end the conversation there.

“But this time I mean it.”

Hyeonseong said. The tip of Hyeonju’s chopsticks froze in midair.

“I feel like I’ve heard that one about fifty times too.”

The chopsticks that had paused began moving again.

“No, but seriously this time. If this keeps up, I really feel like I’ll either die from my blood pressure because of that guy, or end up unemployed from delinquency—one of those two is definitely going to happen.”

Hyeonseong recalled what had happened last month.

Last month’s interstellar network fee had been 300 Ghost Coins. Since she hadn’t even managed to gather 300 by the last day, she had paid it by the skin of her teeth.

“I really thought it was going to drain me dry right up until the last second.”

For a typical S-rank, it wasn’t such a burdensome fee, but for Hyeonseong—whose skill set was lacking—it was an overwhelming amount.

And if Hands Faster Than Eyes hadn’t skimmed the quest reward, she would have had some Ghost Coins left over even after paying the fee.

But that bastard had “efficiently” messed with her quest rewards all the way up to the last day. If not for the Ghost Coins she had received as a dungeon reward, she would have been in danger of delinquency.

“With only one skill, that would have been a disaster.”

And this month, the fee was set at 500 Ghost Coins—nearly 1.7 times last month.

She had almost no Ghost Coins left on hand. If her earnings ended up similar to last month, delinquency this month was guaranteed.

After surviving one close call, she now felt a genuine sense of crisis that she really had to deal with that scammer Constellation.

“…You’re not wrong.”

Hyeonju reluctantly agreed.

“And also,”

Hyeonseong continued, starting lightly—

“…Is it awkward to say it right now?”

But the words that should have followed did not come out. It was because of the rule that human speech could reach a Constellation’s ears.

Imagine a Constellation observing humans within a certain range.

In that situation, anything a human said out loud would reach the Constellation with a one hundred percent probability. But written notes or messenger texts were more like fifty-fifty.

Even a Constellation could not know the contents unless they were actively looking at the conversation screen.

“But right now… we were in the middle of cursing that bastard.”

Since Hands Faster Than Eyes often watched her, there was a high chance it was observing this conversation too.

If so, not only spoken words, but written notes or messenger chat would also be risky. If they switched to writing mid-conversation, the bastard would obviously shift attention to whatever they were using.

…

Hyeonju glanced sidelong at Hyeonseong without saying anything. She seemed to have guessed what she had been about to say.

“So how are you going to kill him?”

Hyeonju spoke while moving her chopsticks again.

“That’s the problem. If I’m going to kill him, there are a million things I need to figure out first.”

Hyeonseong answered, taking a spoonful of rice.

Constellations could broadly be divided into two types.

One was the mysteries of this world’s gods—forgotten and denied for ages, then one day revived with tangible existence. The other was mysteries that existed in other worlds.

And that was where the first big problem arose when it came to hunting a Constellation.

“Just from his name, it’s hard to tell where that bastard is from.”

If a god or hero had a foundation in famous myth or history, you could often make an educated guess from their Constellation name.

A nearby example was The Primal Trickster, who sometimes donated Hyeonseong a single Ghost Coin.

“That one was Loki from Norse myth.”

Loki was famously responsible for causing all sorts of disasters in Norse mythology, so the name The Primal Trickster suited her well after gaining a physical form.

“But Hands Faster Than Eyes…”

No matter how she looked at it, it did not sound like a name with any particular legend behind it.

If she tried to connect it to something, it was vaguely related to quick hands—like a thief or a magician.

But a legendary thief, a legendary magician, or a god of thieves from myth would not use such a plain name.

It was far too simple for someone with high divinity or wide recognition.

“And not only is the rank unclear, there’s nothing that pins down an era or region either.”

A legendary thief would have used a name that evoked some famous tale.

A thief god would have used a name tied to divine symbols or myths about themselves.

But Hands Faster Than Eyes had none of that. It was the kind of name you could imagine in any era, any region, any world.

“If he’s at least a Constellation from this world, that would be a relief—but if he’s from another world, even getting there is the problem.”

After mystery returned to the world and the interstellar network system began operating, the existence of other worlds became common knowledge. Other worlds were real.

However, actual world-to-world exchange outside the network was extremely limited.

Through the interstellar network, you could talk to people from other worlds and even trade goods with other-world Constellations.

But physically visiting each other’s worlds only happened by passing through special dungeons that opened once in a rare while.

Other than that—aside from getting caught in some freak accident—no known method existed at the present time.

In other words, if Hands Faster Than Eyes was a Constellation from another world, the first problem was simply reaching him.

It was hard enough to figure out which world she came from, and even if she did, there was no telling when a dungeon connecting to that world would open.

“So ideally, he needs to be a Constellation from this world…”

If she was from this world, Hyeonseong could at least skip the most troublesome step. But that did not mean finding and killing him would be easy.

Constellations were called Constellations because, like distant stars, they looked down on mortals from a high sky.

That sky might be literal, or a metaphor for a divine realm like heaven. Or it could be a crack-like space behind the veil of the underworld or some other hidden layer of reality.

“If it’s literally the sky, that would be easiest.”

If it was the literal sky, it would be the simplest: forcibly reveal whatever method the Constellation used to hide itself, then drag it down.

Surprisingly, there were precedents recorded on the interstellar network.

Hyeonseong could not fully trust them since she had only found bare records saying it had been done, without details.

On the other hand, there were no known precedents anywhere for dragging down and executing a Constellation that dwelled in the hidden side of the same world, such as a divine realm or the underworld.

Hyeonseong had searched the interstellar network records repeatedly, but had never found a single clue.

“Even if he’s from this world, there’s no known method to pull him down anyway, so maybe it’s all the same in the end.”

From records, all she could learn was that it was possible. She would have to find the method by trusting that fact alone.

In the end, the only difference was whether there was an openly acknowledged possibility or not.

“Fine. Let’s break it down. What do I need to know to grab that bastard and beat him into the ground?”

She listed the necessary information one by one.

First, she had to determine which world the Constellation lived in.

Then she needed to find a way to drag the Constellation down in that world, or a way to invade from this side.

After that, she would need a way to force the Constellation to reveal a physical form, and finally, a way to kill it completely.

“Why is there so much?”

There was not just one or two things to find out, and she had no idea where to even begin.

After agonizing for a while, Hyeonseong finally slumped forward and pressed her forehead to the dining table.

“Unnie, what is it now?”

“Leave her. Is this the first time she’s done that?”

Hyeonju replied to Hyeonyeong casually.

“Yeah. Just leave me.”

Hyeonseong answered with her head still planted on the table.

“Anyway.”

Hyeonseong lifted her head and looked at Hyeonyeong.

“Hyeonyeong, do you have time today?”

“Time? I do, but why?”

“Good. I have an experiment to run. Help me.”

“An experiment? Ah, the one you mentioned yesterday?”

Hyeonyeong understood immediately.

“You said you found a new use for your skill, right?”

“You said you could swallow used skills?”

Hyeonju cut in.

“Yeah. That. I found a new use, but I need to test how far it works and where it stops before I can actually use it.”

Hyeonseong answered.

Finding a new use for Infinite Corridor was a big deal. Swallowing an enemy’s magical attack or defense and turning it into a one-time skill card was absurdly powerful.

For someone who already had to lug around countless support items, it was practically the ability to generate weapons and defenses on the battlefield.

“Well, it’s not like I can swallow literally everything.”

Every skill had limits. Hyeonseong was certain Infinite Corridor could not swallow all combat skills.

The same applied to physical items. Only items without registered ownership on the interstellar network could be swallowed.

Items with clear ownership required the owner’s consent.

She had confirmed this early on using Hyeonyeong’s equipment.

Only the items she explicitly allowed were pulled into Infinite Corridor.

“This has limits too, for sure.”

From the fight against the Juvenile Wyverns, she had confirmed three things.

First, it could swallow up to an A-rank dragon breath.

Second, loaded multi-shot skills were stored one shot at a time.

Third, barrier skills were treated as items and could be swallowed, leaving the enemy behind.

All of these observations were based on magic skills.

Next, she needed to verify whether physical-type skills could be handled the same way.

“And whether S-rank or higher is possible.”

Infinite Corridor was classified as an out-of-system Over S-rank skill.

Such skills shared one thing in common: they were all above S-rank.

“If they slapped S-rank on someone like me, it would be stranger if my skill wasn’t Over S-rank. So handling S-rank skills should be the minimum.”

There was logic behind it, though personal hope was mixed in.

“This month I’ll have to run dungeons harder. If I can’t handle S-rank or higher, I’m dead.”

Awakened had rules. Paying the monthly network fee was one of them.

Another was clearing dungeons appropriate to one’s rank.

S-rank Awakened were expected to clear high-rank dungeons.

Going too far below their rank resulted in reward confiscation.

To earn Ghost Coins, high-rank dungeons were mandatory.

“If the fee hadn’t gone up, I wouldn’t even be this stressed.”

“That’s obvious, but what exactly are you trying to confirm?”

Hyeonyeong asked.