Aleem's Novels

Rare Spawn

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Rare Spawn

The hub NPC’s smile didn’t change when they returned.

It stayed perfectly symmetrical as the world behind them snapped from dungeon-filter to daylight Seoul–if you could call it daylight under a sky that still carried faint translucent banners like bruises.

“Congratulations,” the NPC chimed, voice bright. “Tutorial Gate Cleared.”

A reward window bloomed in front of Joonseo:

REWARD CLAIMED:

The last line pulsed red.

Leon’s eyes narrowed. He’d seen something similar–either on his own UI or on the way the air outside the PC bang seemed to thicken with threat.

“We don’t linger,” Leon said, low.

Joonseo’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. The bandages and rations had dropped into his inventory with a soft chime, but the reality of them didn’t feel like comfort. It felt like preparation. Like the world was already instructing him to get used to bleeding.

He took a breath and tried to steady his mind long enough to open his skill window. The interface popped up easily, clean and familiar, like a reflex he’d forgotten he had.

SKILL POINT AVAILABLE: 1

A list of upgrades shimmered:

Truth Alignment.

The words made his stomach clench.

His eyes flicked instinctively to the edge of his vision, where the debuff from last night liked to reappear like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

FRAUD (Stage 1) still sat there, faint but present, like a mark the system had stamped into his status.

He swallowed and chose Illusion Veil (Rank 2) with a sharp tap of his finger.

If he couldn’t change the body, he could at least change how visible it was.

The window chimed.

Leon’s head tilted slightly, as if he’d heard the chime too. “You upgraded?”

Joonseo kept his tone flat. “Don’t talk like you’re my party leader.”

Leon’s mouth tightened. He didn’t take the bait, just nodded once.

“Okay,” he said softly. “But… good. Illusion is useful.”

Joonseo hated that Leon sounded relieved.

They stepped back outside.

Immediately, Joonseo felt it–eyes.

Not just casual glances from confused survivors, but the sharp appraisal of people who had already adapted. People who looked at the new world and didn’t see horror, but opportunity.

The mini-map in the corner of Joonseo’s vision had expanded. Safe zones glittered like tiny shield icons, scattered across the district. There was a larger safe zone marked nearer to a subway station–likely Sinchon or Hongik University Station, if the map overlay was accurate. Another hub marker pulsed farther south, toward the river.

But the warning window had said: Player Killing detected.

In the game, PKs had been a nuisance. Annoying. A dark joke in global chat.

Here, it felt like a knife held behind someone’s smile.

Leon guided them down a side street that kept them off the main drag. He stayed slightly ahead, shoulders squared, sword no longer tucked away but carried openly. He looked less like a tourist now and more like someone who’d accepted the fact that the world required weapons.

Joonseo followed, cloak brushing his thighs, every step a reminder that his center of gravity had shifted. It wasn’t just humiliation anymore. It was vulnerability. The street was too open, too full of corners where someone could grab him.

He kept glancing at reflections–store windows, car mirrors–hating every flicker of Elizabeth’s face, yet unable to stop verifying it was still there.

As if looking away would make it permanent.

Leon’s voice came quiet without turning around. “Stop scanning like that.”

Joonseo snapped, “Like what?”

“Like you’re expecting someone to jump you,” Leon answered. “It’ll make you obvious.”

Joonseo’s anger flared instantly. “I am obvious.”

Leon stopped walking.

The sudden halt made the tether between them tighten. Joonseo’s chest jolted, his body reflexively stepping closer to loosen it again.

Leon turned, gaze steady. “Yes,” he said simply. “You are.”

The bluntness landed like a slap.

Joonseo’s face heated. “Then why did you–”

Why did you come?

Why did you cling?

Why did you look at Elizabeth like–

He cut himself off, jaw clenched.

Leon’s eyes softened, but his voice stayed firm. “Then we minimize it.”

Joonseo scoffed bitterly. “How? Put a hoodie over my head?”

Leon didn’t smile. He reached into his inventory with a smooth motion–fingers flicking like he was selecting a menu item–and pulled something out of the air.

A cap. Black. Plain.

He offered it silently.

Joonseo stared at it, stunned for half a second by the fact that Leon had actually–

Then he grabbed it roughly and shoved it onto his head, yanking the brim low enough to shadow his eyes.

It didn’t change his face. It didn’t change Elizabeth’s body.

But it made him feel slightly less like a billboard.

Leon nodded once. “Better.”

Joonseo’s throat tightened with something that was dangerously close to gratitude. He swallowed it down hard.

They kept moving.

The street opened briefly into a wider stretch near a small plaza–one of those Hongdae side squares where buskers used to play. Now it was scattered with abandoned props and an overturned food cart. A few survivors lingered in a loose cluster near a wall, trading items and information like an impromptu market.

Joonseo’s eyes flicked to them, then away.

Too many people.

Leon’s gaze swept the plaza and his shoulders stiffened.

“Don’t look,” Leon murmured.

Joonseo’s pulse spiked. “What?”

Leon’s hand lifted, not touching, but hovering close to Joonseo’s back as if he wanted to guide him without crossing the boundary.

His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Nameplates.”

Joonseo forced his eyes back, careful this time, scanning above heads.

There–three figures standing slightly apart from the rest, pretending to browse.

Their nameplates floated bright and clean:

KARMINE – Level 3 – Rogue DUSKBYTE – Level 3 – Ranger VIVID – Level 2 – Mage

Higher level than most.

Their gear looked better too–more polished, more “earned.” They weren’t panicked survivors.

They were players who had already started farming the new world.

And when Joonseo’s gaze drifted too close, Karmine’s head turned.

Their eyes locked.

Karmine smiled.

It wasn’t friendly.

It was the kind of smile you gave when you’d found something rare.

Joonseo’s stomach dropped.

“Keep walking,” Leon said softly, and his hand hovered closer now, a firm presence without contact.

Joonseo forced his legs to move.

They took three steps.

Then Karmine’s voice called out–bright, casual, in Korean with a faint accent that suggested the person might be expat too, or simply the kind of gamer who’d learned languages through online voice chats.

“Hey! Elizabeth, right?”

Joonseo froze so hard it felt like the world had paused around him.

Leon stopped instantly, shoulders tensing like a shield being raised.

Joonseo’s throat went dry.

How–

Of course.

Elizabeth was recognizable. Famous, in-game. A face guilds remembered. A voice raid groups praised. A character that had left a footprint.

Karmine strolled closer with the relaxed confidence of someone who knew fear wasn’t a currency they needed to spend.

Behind them, Duskbyte and Vivid drifted in a loose arc, positioning themselves without making it obvious. Like wolves that had done this before.

Leon’s hand went to his sword.

Karmine laughed lightly. “Relax, relax. We’re not monsters.”

Joonseo’s heart hammered.

A system tip flickered at the edge of his vision, uninvited:

WORLD TIP: PKERS OFTEN INITIATE WITH FRIENDLY DIALOGUE SAFE ZONE RULES DO NOT APPLY HERE

Leon’s voice stayed even, but it carried steel. “We’re passing through.”

Karmine’s gaze slid over Leon, assessing.

“Leon,” Karmine said, like tasting the name. “Guardian. Cute.”

Joonseo’s skin crawled.

Karmine’s eyes returned to Elizabeth, lingering openly now.

“I watched your clears,” Karmine said, tone almost admiring. “You were a beast in raids. People used to fight for you in party finder.”

Joonseo’s mouth tasted like metal.

Leon shifted subtly, putting himself more fully between Karmine and Elizabeth.

Karmine’s smile widened. “Aw, protective boyfriend energy. Love that.”

Leon’s jaw tightened. “She’s not–”

Not what?

Not yours?

Not–

Joonseo’s stomach twisted.

Karmine took another step closer, ignoring Leon’s posture.

“You’re in luck,” Karmine said. “We’re building a group. A real one. Not these random panicked people.” They waved a hand at the plaza survivors dismissively. “We’re clearing gates fast, getting levels, securing resources. You two could join.”

Duskbyte’s gaze stayed on Elizabeth’s face. Vivid’s eyes flicked to Joonseo’s cap, then to his cloak, like calculating what cosmetics might be worth now.

Joonseo understood with sudden clarity:

They didn’t want Elizabeth because she was strong.

They wanted Elizabeth because she was rare.

Because she was beautiful.

Because she attracted attention and could be used as bait, shield, leverage–or worse.

Leon’s voice sharpened. “No.”

Karmine blinked slowly, the smile not leaving their face. “That wasn’t the question. It was an offer.”

Leon’s grip tightened on his sword.

Joonseo’s body trembled, and the system responded like a cruel mirror:

FRAUD (Stage 1): Mana Instability – Increased Risk Under Emotional Stress

A faint dizziness kissed the edges of his vision.

He forced himself to breathe.

Karmine tilted their head. “Don’t tell me you’re worried we’ll be mean to her.”

The way they said “her” made Joonseo’s stomach lurch.

Leon’s voice went low. “We’re leaving.”

Karmine sighed dramatically. “You know what’s funny? Everyone keeps pretending this is still real life. But it’s not. It’s an RPG now.”

They took a slow step closer.

“And in an RPG, rare assets… belong to whoever can keep them.”

Duskbyte’s hand moved–just slightly–toward a bow that hadn’t been there a second ago. Vivid’s fingers flicked, and faint sparks danced at their fingertips.

Leon moved.

He stepped fully in front of Elizabeth, shoulders wide, sword lifted.

Joonseo’s chest tightened painfully.

This was exactly what he feared: Leon taking hits meant for Elizabeth.

Devotion born from a lie, now risking death for it.

Karmine’s grin sharpened. “There we go.”

They lunged.

Not at Leon.

At Elizabeth–fast, clever, aiming to slip past the tank.

Joonseo’s body screamed run.

His mind screamed don’t.

Leon reacted like he was wired for it.

He slammed his sword hilt into the pavement, and a shimmering barrier flared into existence–an arc of light that caught Karmine mid-step.

GUARDIAN BARRIER – ACTIVE

Karmine cursed, bouncing back.

Duskbyte’s arrow fired.

Leon pivoted, taking it on the barrier. The arrow shattered into pixels against the shield with a sharp crack.

Vivid cast something–dark, syrupy magic that curled like smoke.

Leon raised his shield again, but the spell slipped through, aimed at Elizabeth like a net.

Joonseo’s hands lifted on instinct.

Illusion Veil.

He cast it–

–and the spell stuttered.

The gold light flickered, unstable, like the system itself was choking it.

FRAUD (Stage 1): Mana Instability – Skill Misfire (Minor)

Joonseo’s breath hitched.

His magic still manifested–but weaker, patchy, like a veil with holes. Vivid’s spell tore through the gap, grazing his shoulder.

Cold flooded his skin, a debuff crawling across his UI:

STATUS: Slow (3 seconds)

He stumbled, boots skidding on the pavement.

Leon’s head snapped back, eyes widening.

“Elizabeth–!”

Joonseo flinched at the name even as fear spiked.

He wanted to scream, Stop calling me that, I’m not–

The thought itself sparked the debuff again.

Dishonesty. Withheld truth.

The system didn’t care what he wanted.

It punished what he hid.

Karmine’s voice cut through the chaos, delighted. “Oh, you’ve got a debuff. Interesting.”

They moved again–faster–aiming to exploit the slow.

Leon threw himself sideways to intercept.

His shoulder collided with Karmine, knocking them back, but the impact sent Leon stumbling too. Duskbyte fired another arrow. Vivid’s spell charged again.

The plaza survivors scattered, screaming, leaving Joonseo and Leon alone against three.

Joonseo’s heart hammered so hard it hurt.

This wasn’t a duel.

It was an ambush.

And he was the prize.

He forced his hands up again, ignoring the dizziness.

He couldn’t let Leon carry this alone.

He couldn’t–

A sharp, cold clarity cut through panic.

If his illusion misfired because of mana instability…

Then he needed a spell that didn’t rely on delicate control.

Something simple.

Something blunt.

His UI flashed:

Charm Hymn – Available

He’d kept it at Rank 1. A basic skill. Minor crowd control.

But minor might be enough.

He cast.

A note bloomed between his palms–darker than Courage Aura’s gold. It pulsed outward in a wave, not beautiful, not comforting.

A weaponized song.

Karmine’s movement stuttered. Their eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating like the world had briefly slowed around them.

Duskbyte’s arrow aim wavered.

Vivid’s spell fizzled for a fraction of a second.

Leon didn’t waste the opening.

He charged, sword slamming into Karmine’s barrier with a heavy clang. Sparks erupted. Karmine stumbled.

Leon turned sharply, shield slamming Duskbyte’s bow arm aside.

The Ranger swore, retreating.

Vivid cursed, hands flaring with brighter magic–angry now.

“Fine,” Vivid hissed. “We’ll just take her down.”

The pronoun hit Joonseo like acid.

His stomach clenched.

The system’s FRAUD debuff flickered again, delighted by his emotional spike.

Mana instability shimmered in his fingertips.

Leon threw his shield up as Vivid’s spell launched–a spear of dark light–

–and in that split second, Joonseo did something he hadn’t done since the sky split.

He chose Leon.

Not because he trusted Leon.

Not because he forgave himself.

But because Leon was a wall and Joonseo was tired of being the one behind the wall who never paid the cost.

He stepped forward into Leon’s space–close enough that the gold tether flared bright, close enough to trigger the bond.

A chime rang.

BOND EFFECT: Party Proximity Stabilized BUFF: Courage (10 seconds) BUFF: Barrier Strength +10% (5 seconds)

Leon’s barrier thickened, shimmering brighter.

Vivid’s spear hit it and shattered.

Leon inhaled sharply, surprised at the sudden reinforcement.

He glanced back–just a flicker–and their eyes met.

Leon’s expression tightened with something raw.

Not gratitude.

Something deeper.

Like he’d been waiting for Elizabeth to step closer to him for years.

Joonseo’s throat went dry.

He looked away instantly, furious at the thought.

Karmine recovered, wiping blood–real blood–from the corner of their mouth. Their smile had faded now, replaced by cold irritation.

“Okay,” Karmine said. “So you’re not easy prey.”

They lifted their hands. Their daggers glinted.

“But you’re still prey.”

Leon’s voice dropped, dangerous. “Leave.”

Karmine laughed. “Or what?”

Leon didn’t answer.

He acted.

He lunged, shield first, slamming into Karmine with a force that sent them skidding backward. Duskbyte tried to flank, but Leon pivoted. Vivid began another cast–

Joonseo cast Illusion Veil again, forcing mana through trembling hands.

This time, the veil blossomed wider–Rank 2 doing its job despite instability. The air rippled, bending light.

Vivid’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

Their spell launched–straight into a wall that wasn’t there. It detonated harmlessly against illusion.

Leon took the moment, drove his sword forward, and stopped with the blade’s edge hovering at Karmine’s throat.

Close enough to nick skin.

Close enough to promise what could happen next.

Karmine froze.

The plaza went quiet except for distant screams and the hum of neon.

Leon’s voice was low, controlled, and terrifying.

“Go.”

Karmine swallowed, eyes flicking to Joonseo behind Leon’s shoulder. Their gaze lingered like a threat.

“This isn’t over,” Karmine said lightly, even as fear edged their voice. “Rare spawns always get farmed eventually.”

Leon’s blade didn’t move. “Go.”

Karmine backed away slowly. Duskbyte and Vivid followed, retreating down the street like predators forced to release a bite they’d wanted.

When they were gone–truly gone–Leon lowered his sword.

For a moment, he stood very still.

Then his shoulders sagged slightly, breath shuddering out of him like he’d been holding it in with willpower alone.

Joonseo realized his own hands were shaking.

Not just fear.

Adrenaline.

The aftermath of almost being taken.

Leon turned slowly.

His eyes landed on Joonseo’s face, taking in the pale skin, the cap pulled low, the trembling.

Leon’s expression softened instantly.

He stepped forward–one step too many.

Joonseo flinched back.

Leon stopped immediately.

“Sorry,” Leon said, voice hoarse. “I just–are you hurt?”

Joonseo swallowed hard. His shoulder still carried a faint cold sting from the slow debuff. But what hurt more was the way Leon’s gaze wrapped around him like a blanket.

He hated it.

Because it made him want to lean in.

Because it made him want to be protected.

Because it made him want something he didn’t understand.

“I’m fine,” Joonseo lied.

The system punished him instantly.

A sharp pulse behind his eyes, like a migraine.

His UI flashed red:

FRAUD (Stage 1) – Spike Triggered EFFECT: Mana Instability Increased (Temporary)

Joonseo gasped softly, hand flying to his temple.

Leon’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Joonseo clenched his teeth. “Nothing.”

Another spike–smaller, but insistent.

Leon stepped closer again, more carefully this time, hands open.

“Hey,” Leon said softly. “Look at me.”

The command wasn’t harsh. It was–anchoring.

Joonseo hated how his eyes lifted anyway.

Leon’s gaze locked onto his, steady as a shield.

“You’re not fine,” Leon said quietly. “And that’s okay. But don’t lie to me right now.”

The words landed like a blade pressed against the debuff’s sore spot.

Don’t lie to me.

Joonseo’s throat tightened until breathing hurt.

He wanted to scream the truth, to rip the mask off and watch Leon’s love die so he didn’t have to carry it anymore.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

The system had already marked confession as a questline.

And Joonseo could feel–deep in his bones–that the timing mattered. That this world would make him suffer before it let him cleanse.

So he did the only thing he could do without detonating everything.

He chose a smaller truth.

“My shoulder got hit,” Joonseo muttered.

Leon’s face softened with immediate relief, like he’d been bracing for worse.

“Let me see,” Leon said.

“No,” Joonseo snapped automatically.

Leon stilled, then nodded slowly. “Okay.” He paused. “Then… bandage. At least let me give you one.”

Joonseo’s inventory shimmered at the edge of his vision. Bandage x5.

He could do it himself.

But his hands were still shaking too hard.

Leon held a bandage out carefully, not stepping closer. Offering, not forcing.

Joonseo stared at it.

The air between them felt charged, tight as a string.

If he took it, his fingers might brush Leon’s again and trigger Calm and Courage and whatever other cursed comfort the system wanted to tempt him with.

If he didn’t take it, he’d keep bleeding warmth out of himself until he became a trembling target again.

He yanked the bandage from Leon’s hand quickly, deliberately not touching skin, and wrapped it around his shoulder with clumsy motions. The fabric caught on his hair. He cursed under his breath.

Leon didn’t laugh.

He just watched quietly, jaw tense, like he was holding back the instinct to help.

That restraint was its own kind of intimacy–proof Leon was trying, proof he was listening, proof he was… learning Joonseo’s boundaries.

And that made it worse.

Because Leon wasn’t just clinging blindly anymore.

He was adjusting.

He was becoming dangerous in a different way.

Not predatory–patient.

Joonseo finished tying the bandage. His fingers trembled as he secured the knot.

Leon’s voice came soft. “We need a better safe zone. Somewhere with walls.”

Joonseo swallowed. “Yeah.”

Leon nodded toward the mini-map. “There’s one nearer to Hongik University Station. More people. More light.”

More eyes.

More risk.

But also more safety.

Joonseo’s mouth went dry. “And if the PKs follow?”

Leon’s gaze sharpened. “Then we don’t make it easy.”

He stepped closer–careful, stopping at the line Joonseo seemed to tolerate–and his voice dropped lower, quieter, meant only for Joonseo.

“Listen to me,” Leon said. “Those people weren’t after you because you’re weak. They were after you because you’re visible.”

Joonseo’s stomach twisted.

Leon’s gaze flicked briefly to Joonseo’s face, then away, as if he was forcing himself not to stare too long.

“And I’m not going to let them take you.”

The words hit with a strange double edge–protection and possession braided together so tightly Joonseo couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

His body responded in a way he didn’t want.

A heat in his chest. A tightness low in his belly that felt like fear turning into something else, something with sharper teeth.

He hated it so much he nearly choked on it.

“Stop saying that,” Joonseo whispered, voice rough.

Leon’s eyes softened. “Okay.” He paused, then added, quieter, almost like confession: “But it’s still true.”

Joonseo’s throat tightened.

He turned away abruptly, pulling his cap lower, and started walking.

Leon followed, keeping pace without crowding.

The gold tether between them pulsed faintly–steady, stubborn, alive.

As they moved toward the brighter streets near Hongik University Station, the world around them felt less like chaos and more like a new society forming out of fear: small groups traveling together, people trading items, someone shouting about a hub registration queue, someone else crying that they’d become the wrong character.

Joonseo caught fragments of conversation in Korean and English and bits of Japanese–players everywhere, realizing their online selves were now their flesh.

And through it all, he felt Leon’s presence behind him like a constant shield.

It should have been comforting.

Instead, it felt like the start of something inevitable.

Because Joonseo could feel the system watching him–not with eyes, but with code and consequence–waiting for the moment he tried to lie again, waiting to spike the FRAUD debuff until he broke.

Waiting to force the truth out of him like loot.

And worse than that–

He could feel his own body adapting.

Not just to Elizabeth’s shape.

To Leon’s nearness.

To the way Leon’s devotion wrapped around him like a cloak he didn’t want… and couldn’t stop wearing.

On the mini-map, the safe zone near the station glowed brighter as they approached.

Behind them, unseen but felt, danger lingered in the form of three retreating nameplates and one parting promise:

Rare spawns always get farmed eventually.

Joonseo’s fingers tightened into fists.

He didn’t know how to survive this world.

He didn’t know how to survive Leon.

But he knew one thing with cold certainty:

The lie he’d built as Elizabeth was no longer something he could laugh about.

It was a debt.

And the system had begun collecting.