I’m Not a Piece of Shit

Chapter 6: Someone Consistent

The café on a weekend morning was quietly bustling. Given its proximity to a university, you’d expect most people to still be lounging around nursing hangovers. 

Yet, despite the semester having just ended, there were plenty of students burning with academic fervor.

Notably, there were a lot of male students.

Their fashion, however, screamed “engineering major,” reinforcing my stereotypical view: “Engineering must be tough even during vacations…” Humanities for the win!

I was still in the early stages of learning everything from steaming milk to tamping ground coffee evenly for proper extraction.

Since taste was the crucial point of any drink and mistakes weren’t an option, my role primarily involved taking orders and serving customers.

At first, my expression had been painfully awkward, but I was slowly getting the hang of plastering on a service smile.

The problem was that my service smile came with a little extra: slight dark circles under my eyes and, occasionally, a loose screw in my brain.

Why was I so exhausted? Wasn’t I at an age where I could chew through steel? Staying up late shouldn’t hit this hard.

Lost in such thoughts, I relayed the order to Seung-hyun, who was handling preparation, and served the finished coffee.

“Here’s your hot Americano.”

“Uh… I ordered an iced Americano, though.”

“…What?”

Another mistake. Again!

Seung-hyun is going to scold me… again!

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make a new one for you right away…” I apologized with a dejected expression.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I like hot ones too. Thanks…!”

The customer almost snatched the coffee from my hands and left with a slightly flushed face.

What was that? Did they order a hot drink to begin with?

Though suspicious, I let it slide since I had no proof. Watching from the side, Seung-hyun remarked,

“Unni, did you mess up an order again?”

Ugh.

“Unni,” she called me.

The excruciating title snapped me out of my drowsiness.

“I—uh—no! The customer said it was fine…!”

Lee Seung-hyun. She was twenty, a year younger than me, and a fresh-faced freshman. Though young, she was assertive and extremely competent.

Her sharp eyes could sometimes appear intimidating, but overall, she exuded a cool, intellectual charm. She was probably quite popular in her department.

“Well… if you say so. But don’t let it happen again, okay? Promise?”

She wiggled her pinky finger in front of me. What was this? The escalation of skinship was… unexpected.

Was this normal between girls?

Instinctively, I hooked my pinky around hers and pressed our thumbs together.

Seung-hyun’s sharp gaze softened, and she smiled warmly.

That day, I achieved a grand slam of order mistakes.

Fortunately, all four customers forgave me.

Perhaps the world still had some warmth left in it.

As soon as I got home, I collapsed onto the mattress—not a capsule bed—and sprawled out.

Having a cup of Americano before leaving work meant I couldn’t sleep, but my heart pounded peculiarly. Guess my body couldn’t handle caffeine as well as I thought.

Before logging back into the game, I decided to lie down and scroll through my phone.

While it was possible to access a web browser from inside the capsule, browsing community forums still felt more natural with my thumbs.

I’d been vaguely worried about whether this world’s version of the internet might differ from the one I knew. The technological singularity had changed so many things, after all.

But why weren’t there café-serving robots? Were they Luddites?

Despite my concerns, the “Blessing of Saint” gallery—a.k.a. The cyber orphanage—existed in this world too.

[Author: Anonymous]

[Title: Why’s this board so dead?]

“LOL, the game’s only just been released, but this board’s already a ghost town.”

“It’s 2 p.m. on a weekend…”
“People are gaming, not shitposting.”

[Author: Anonymous]

[Title: Why doesn’t this trash game have party matching?]

“Hit level 20 to grind dungeons, and now everyone’s crowding at the entrance shouting for tanks. LOL. Are we leaving today, or what? Annoying af.”

“Noob tank.”
“Who specs into defense at level 3? LOL, just kite.”
“Actually, sword mains can tank. Recommended tree says so.”
“Lmao, go guard a town, scrub.”

Seeing the familiar camaraderie and chaos made me smile. Yeah, this was how it always was—and how it was here too.

Skimming through posts, I spotted a few nostalgic nicknames from the past. Were they the same people I remembered?

I’d changed so much—what about them?

The thought of old contacts, family, and friends buried in my phone made a strange melancholy creep over me.

Forget it. When in doubt, game it out.

Back in the capsule, I returned to my cozy, 1-pyeong-sized sanctuary.

I regained consciousness in the same spot where I had logged off yesterday: the entrance to the level 20 instance dungeon, “Bandit Hideout.”

The story leading here was simple. A villager had asked me to rescue some kidnapped townsfolk by attacking the bandit base.

Predictable plots like this had their charm—they required no deep thought.

In front of me was the flea market of chaos. Players of similar levels bickered and bragged, each claiming superiority.

I made up my mind.

This section would be tough, but I’d clear it solo.

There were three key items to pick up: a necklace and ring from normal difficulty and a primary weapon from hard mode.

Skipping this dungeon was technically an option, as there were equivalent items from the main quest and later dungeons at levels 25 and 28.

But no. As a gamer, the unwritten rule was clear: prove your competence by equipping items from the previous dungeon.

Soloing to level 20 was feasible, but mechanics became more collaboration-heavy at level 30.

Still, a partner would be nice. At least for the first boss. It would make things a lot easier.

I took a step back and started observing the people around me.

What would synergize well with a Dosa and allow me to hold aggro while enabling effective damage output? My gaze wasn’t focused on people’s appearances but on the weapons they carried.

Most wanderers wielded one of three types of weapons: the Curse Blade, the longsword, and the dagger. These corresponded to the roles of Dosa, warrior, and rogue or assassin.

In the past, these classes were derogatorily nicknamed “talisman thrower,” “sword dummy,” and “stealth mess,” and it seemed those reputations hadn’t changed much.

In virtual reality, warriors—requiring active responses to patterns—and assassins—fragile melee glass cannons—likely became even more risky to play, further increasing their unpopularity.

As for the Curse Blade… it seemed to be the subject of persistent but baseless rumors about being weak.

But Dosa? Dosas were strong. And DajeongDosa is even stronger.

Suddenly, I spotted a female warrior. No, not her weapon—what caught my attention was her nickname.

“PerroFace.”

The name was the same as the main tank I had partied with for almost four years in another guild. It wasn’t a common name, either.

In RPGs, female players often faced stereotypes. A legendary meme summarizing this phenomenon as “P’s” came to mind (I’d have to check if it existed in this world too).

But PerroFace—Perro—defied all those stereotypes. With overwhelming skill, she not only carried our party’s mental state but also maintained control as a dominant presence in the team.

She also survived and thrived in a male-dominated guild thanks to her sharp wit and immunity to crude jokes, earning her the status of a big sister to everyone.

Of course, I’d heard more than a few guys groaning about being rejected after sending her cringe-worthy cyber-love confessions. Her personality was that captivating.

Curious, I checked her character’s stats through the info display. Infernal Blade—Sword Arts—Rebound.

It was unmistakable. The distinct build of a die-hard “Sword Arts Enthusiast.” Her philosophy had always been clear: aggro wasn’t drawn by skills but by sheer damage output. That was Perro’s creed.

On a whim, I inspected her character’s appearance.

I wasn’t sure if this was the result of customization, but her mischievous, slightly narrowed eyes carried an undeniable playfulness. 

Her lips curled as if she could burst into laughter at any moment. And… she was big.

She was wearing a hooded outfit, which concealed most of her features unless closely examined. 

Likely, she wore it intentionally to avoid attention. Without the hood, she probably could have landed any opportunity she wanted.

As if entranced, I approached her and called out.

“Perro… PerroFace?”

“Oh, yes. Did you call me?”

Ah.

It really was her.

There was no way I’d mistake this voice.

As a tank, she had always called out the boss’ attack patterns over voice chat. Her microphone had rarely gone silent.

I had been the main strategist, but she had been the ever-reliable voice in the chaos.

Even in this twisted new world, there was someone who remained consistent.

A warm wave of relief washed over me for no apparent reason. Smiling shyly, I extended my hand to her.

“Would you like to party with me?”