I’m Not a Piece of Shit

Chapter 10: In an Unchanging Landscape

Without much thought, Ha-yeon had decided to try out a new game, Blessing of Saint. 

What began as casual curiosity quickly turned into immersion. The vivid fantasy settings combined with lifelike NPCs made the world feel alive and breathing.

But what Ha-yeon appreciated most was the combat.

A top-ranking player in the one-on-one dueling game Legend of Fighters (LoF), Ha-yeon was used to extreme realism in combat mechanics. 

LoF had pushed the boundaries of mimicking real-world physics to the point where it almost felt too real. In contrast, BloSe felt unmistakably like a game.

In LoF, players are limited by their own imaginations.

For example, when someone swings a sword, they often base their motions on depictions they’ve seen in the media, rather than understanding how their muscles actually move. This leads to imitations—linear, simple, and awkwardly natural.

Athletic individuals, however, might go a step further: observing their movements, internalizing them, and then adapting them fluidly. 

Over time, this process eliminates awkwardness, leaving behind seamless, flowing actions.

But virtual reality transcends human limits.

Even actions that would twist real joints unnaturally can be performed without harm in VR. 

Movements that would normally exceed human speed are possible thanks to skill-based adjustments.

This is where many VR RPGs create a disconnect.

Movements that are too fast or complex feel like they’re being performed by the system, not the player. The result? An unnatural stiffness reminiscent of puppetry.

This was why Ha-yeon continued to play LoF, where skill and physical precision mattered more than system intervention.

Blessing of Saint’s combat, however, was different.

By disabling the Skill Assist function, players could mimic skill-like actions freely. The system recognized the intent and granted proper effects.

For example:

“Deflecting an enemy’s attack by ducking under it, slicing upward at an angle, blocking the follow-up strike, and then bringing the blade down in a finishing blow” would activate the Cross Slash skill.

This level of freedom allowed players to attack creatively while still benefiting from the game’s mechanics.

Lost in thought, Ha-yeon—PerroFace—glanced over at her party member.

Dajeong-dosha. 

Was Dajeong their real name? What a strange sense of naming.

The shaman had a petite frame, the kind where your head might rest against their chest if hugged from behind. 

Soft, round eyes squinted in concentration, their lips pressed tightly together.

Watching Dajeong focus intently on the boss’ every move, determined to miss nothing, Ha-yeon found herself smiling. They reminded her of a puppy chasing a ball.

Flicking aside the chains coming her way, Ha-yeon readjusted her stance. Unlike Normal Mode, the Hard Mode boss patterns were significantly faster. Sloppy execution wouldn’t cut it anymore. Still, after wielding a sword for 15 years, she’d learned to earn her keep.

“Dajeong-nim, should we stop here if you’re tired?”

“Huh? Oh, no… I’m fine… really!”

“You dozed off a little earlier and got hit by a pattern. Don’t overdo it.”

Ha-yeon chuckled at Dajeong’s sheepish expression. Pulling an all-nighter really had taken its toll.

“But… you still haven’t gotten your weapon yet….”

The second boss in Hard Mode dropped Hero-grade main weapons, but they were random among eight types. If unlucky, players could spend the entire day farming without success.

Ha-yeon had been lucky, earning her weapon in just four runs. This was their seventh attempt, and Dajeong still hadn’t gotten theirs.

The farmable currency, tokens, could be used to exchange for a desired weapon (eight tokens per weapon), but they only had four tokens so far.

Still, exhaustion hit hard. So… sleepy…

“It’s okay. If you need to rest, I’ll join a public party to finish farming. We’ve cleared enough to get recruitment credentials now, so you’ll be fine.”

“In that case… sorry, but… I think I’ll stop here….”

“Hehe, you did well. Good work!”

“Yeah… good work….”

In a half-conscious daze, Dajeong logged off, exited their capsule, and collapsed onto their mattress.

***

Later that night…

[Author: Perro]
[Title: Why Are Hard Mode Players So Bad at This Hour?]

“Can’t even get past the third Fusion phase.I’m swapping parties constantly, and it’s getting old.Still need 2 more tokens. Looks like it’s going to be an all-nighter. >:( “

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, piercing Dajeong’s barely open eyes. They groaned, realizing they’d forgotten to close the blackout curtains.

The tempting thought of pulling the curtains shut and going back to sleep crossed their mind, but instead, they forced themselves up with a “power early-bird wake-up.”

It was 11 AM. They slept for nearly 12 hours.

Their first thought was to jump back into the game capsule, but the apartment was out of drinks. Maybe a jog to replenish stamina and pick up some coffee would help.

Throwing on a tracksuit from the pile of clothes on the floor, they tied back their hair. 

It wasn’t easy—the strands twisted and snagged—but thanks to YouTube tutorials, they’d become decently skilled at it.

The weather was clear and sunny, with a pleasant breeze—perfect for a run.

As they picked up speed, familiar sights along the route caught their eye:

The sign of a favorite bar, now closed during the day.
The utility pole that had once accidentally caught a pizza box mid-throw.
The small local market where they often bought beer before heading back to their rented room.

The hazy memories of an ordinary college town sharpened into high-definition imagery: the alleyways, the corner shops, the gentle slope leading up to the university’s side gate.

Beyond that, the central library and Seonghak Hall came into view, their aged concrete walls untouched by renovation.

It was the same as it had been 12 years ago.

In an unchanging landscape, the only thing that had changed was me.

Shaking off my thoughts, I turned and started running again, picking up the pace. My breathing grew heavier, and a sharp pain began to spread in my side. My hurried breaths escaped my throat, louder and less controlled.

What began as light jogging had turned into an all-out sprint, which my shorter legs and weakened stamina could no longer handle.

“Hah… Hahh… Haa…”

I came to a halt, clutching my screaming legs, and paused to catch my breath. Had I run for 20 minutes? Without that final sprint, I might have lasted a bit longer.

For some reason, the moment I saw the university buildings, it felt like… this wasn’t where I belonged anymore.

Instinctively, I reached into my pocket, searching. There was nothing there. Cigarettes? No, I’d quit. Besides, I’d never smoked in this body.

Taking one last deep breath, I steadied myself and started running again.

* * *

“Damn it, where are they?”

In the quiet atmosphere of an empty convenience store, Min-jun muttered a curse. He’d been working the night shift since 10 PM. 

When the morning shift worker had asked him to cover for them due to an emergency, he’d grudgingly agreed. 

But now, the afternoon shift worker—scheduled to arrive by 12 PM—was already 10 minutes late with no sign of showing up.

He sent a message. The read receipt stayed stubbornly at “1.”

“Ugh.”

He debated calling them but held back. They’d show up, right? Surely they’d be here before the supply truck arrived. Min-jun grumbled, suppressing his annoyance. He was too exhausted to get any angrier.

Just then, the doorbell chimed as someone entered.

Finally, Min-jun looked up.

It wasn’t the late afternoon worker.

A customer walked in, her long ponytail streaked faintly with red highlights. 

She wore a partially unzipped track jacket over a white T-shirt that clung to her, damp with sweat as though she’d just finished a workout. 

Beneath the shirt, the faint outline of a black bra pulsed subtly with her labored breaths.

Looking up, Min-jun noticed her face—a hint of irritation in her expression, but her large, soft eyes radiated a gentle warmth. 

Her features were striking, like a sculpted marble figure adorned with a single crimson jewel. Min-jun felt his heart skip a beat.

“W-Welcome to GU,” he stammered reflexively, spouting the standard greeting the moment their eyes met.

She gave a small nod before browsing the store.

She wasn’t tall, but she was easily the most beautiful woman Min-jun had seen recently. 

For a moment, he wondered if she might be a celebrity. Did anyone famous graduate from our school? He’d have to look it up later.

His irritation at the late worker faded, replaced by gratitude for this pleasant distraction.

She picked out an assortment of drinks—coffee, energy drinks, and the like—then handed over her card. 

As she passed it to him, a faintly sweet scent brushed past his nose. Min-jun found himself thinking nonsense like, “Even her sweat smells nice.”

One by one, he scanned the items, contemplating whether to ask for her number.

No, better not. She probably has a boyfriend.

Even if she didn’t, she was out of his league. Someone like her wouldn’t match with someone like him. He resigned himself to simply admiring her.

“Thank you,” he said politely, bowing slightly as she left.

As the door closed behind her, Min-jun couldn’t tear his eyes away from her retreating figure.