Chapter 207

The damage Do-Jin had dealt to the Cult of Ruin was nothing short of catastrophic. From preventing Galante’s subjugation to shutting down Nepas’s reckless killings before the situation spiraled any further, the bloodletting Do-Jin had set in motion kept sweeping through the Empire.

Because it had started as a terror-related case, the purge showed no mercy. Criminals, corrupt officials, and anyone with even a toe dipped in wrongdoing were getting dragged to the gallows one after another. Heads kept rolling with no delays or appeals.

That alone would have felt like a lightning strike to the Cult of Ruin, which had been lying low and waiting for an opening, but then came the real blow. They had gone nearly all-in, even tapping into Laves’s power, to pull off their big play. They had tried to split the Regenians from within and ended up falling flat on their faces.

Even cockroaches need time to recover after getting stomped, Do-Jin thought contentedly.

In the race toward either the world’s collapse or its survival, he had forced the other side to stumble. Even so, Do-Jin had no intention of relaxing just because he was ahead for the moment.

If they can’t move freely right now, then I need to clean up as much as I can while I’ve got the chance.

That line of thinking led him straight back to an issue he had put on the backburner for a long time: the vampires. He had always meant to deal with them, and now he finally had the means to. From his perspective, it was the most natural next step imaginable.

However, something unexpected happened that momentarily pulled his attention away, and it came from the real world. A current affairs program on a major broadcast network covered something Do-Jin had done after resolving the incident.

「Good deeds by celebrities and large-scale donations are always welcome news. However, a rather unusual form of donation has recently sparked controversy, or at least raised some eyebrows.」

The anchor paused for a moment before gesturing behind.

「What you’re seeing on screen is an orphanage currently being built inside a virtual world. Yes, many of you may be wondering why a virtual orphanage matters at all. The reason we’re highlighting this case is simple. Every part of this project is being funded by a single individual user.」

After dealing with Decane’s group, Do-Jin had started building orphanages. More accurately, he had started building shelters for people with nowhere left to go. With his ties to the Holy See and the Security Ministry smoothing the way, neither money nor connections posed an issue. He knew he couldn’t bring the dead back, but he still went through with it because doing nothing would have eaten at him more.

「At first glance, it’s a heartwarming story, but viewed alongside the ongoing decline in real-world donation culture, it becomes uncomfortable to watch. The graph you’re seeing now shows the steady drop in charitable contributions over recent years.」

The program carefully tied Do-Jin’s actions to real-world donation statistics. They never said it outright, but the implication was obvious. Why spend money on a virtual world when real people were suffering right here?

「This trend of donating inside virtual spaces may reflect a broader societal shift, one where immersion in virtual reality increasingly takes priority over engagement with reality itself. To better understand this phenomenon, we’ve invited experts from several fields to share their perspectives.」

A university professor and “psychology expert” came on and rambled at length. Then, they brought out the head of a civic group called “Love and Care.”

「Virtual reality has certainly revitalized the economy, but at the same time, it has deepened society’s shadows. As public attention shifts away from reality and into virtual spaces, interest in real-world giving has cooled even faster.」

Though the head of the civic group was nervous, her eyes glistened with excitement as she continued.

「To be blunt, virtual reality is not reality. Buildings go up instantly with a few lines of code. Food can be generated without limit. But the real world doesn’t work that way. When someone with influence chooses where to direct their generosity, I believe they have a responsibility to consider the message it sends.」

She paused, swallowing.

「I’m afraid of a future where even the feeling of doing good is something people seek only inside a simulation.」

The words landed softly, but the implication hit hard. Do-Jin tapped the screen, and the video stopped mid-sentence.

“What exactly am I looking at here?” he asked.

He directed the question at Kim Young-Hee, the head of the marketing team, who sat across from him with a tablet in hand.

Kim Young-Hee made eye contact and replied, “Well, as you can see, the TV ratings for that program barely register, so the live broadcast itself doesn’t matter. The real problem started afterward. Someone noticed your name was mentioned, clipped the segment, and pushed it onto MeTube. From there, it spread fast.”

Do-Jin let out a dry laugh as he leaned back in his chair. So this was what fame looked like once it passed a certain point. People didn’t wait for permission, context, or intent. They just grabbed whatever they could and kept pulling until something tore.

Chun Ji-Hyun, who had been watching the segment beside him, slapped her palm lightly against the table. “Are they actually serious? What the hell do they know about you to talk like that?”

“They’re doing what that industry always does,” Kim Young-Hee said. “They look for anything that might attract attention, and they stick their noses into it. Right now, your name carries weight. Political talk shows can’t fully exploit it, so they twisted the angle instead.”

She paused briefly, then let out a faint, humorless chuckle. “It’s dirty, but from their perspective, it worked. They got clicks, discussion, and outrage, which is all they wanted.”

Do-Jin replayed the clip one more time, this time watching it to the end. Anyone unfamiliar with the facts would think he had gone around publicly bragging about building welfare facilities in virtual space. The framing alone made his teeth itch.

“Interesting people...” he muttered.

There was no amusement in his voice. He already had more than enough to deal with inside LOST, and now reality insisted on piling more noise on top of it. The constant interference made him feel like he had nowhere to stand without someone tugging at his sleeve.

“Honestly, I don’t think this will turn into anything major,” Do-Jin said. “Most people will see through it. My viewers especially aren’t the type to swallow this kind of nonsense.”

“I agree. If we stay silent, the issue will burn itself out. However...” Kim Young-Hee hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I want you to hear this without assuming the worst. I think this situation could work in your favor.”

Do-Jin frowned slightly. “How?”

“Everything they implied can be countered,” she said. “We have solid material, especially when it comes to donations.”

Do-Jin blinked. At some point, Ju Kang-Hee had joked about buying him a supercar. Since Do-Jin didn’t even drive, he had laughed it off and told him that if he really wanted to waste money, he might as well donate it instead.

Ju Kang-Hee had taken that suggestion very seriously. By now, donations made under Do-Jin’s name had reached the hundreds of millions.

“When did he even do all of this?” Do-Jin scanned the documents Kim Young-Hee handed over, disbelief creeping into his expression.

That explains the parking lot, he thought. Cars kept piling up even though I never touched the keys.

“You never intended to make any of this public,” Kim Young-Hee said. “Neither did the chief. But information like this never stays buried forever. I think the timing is acceptable. The only issue is what comes with it.”

“If we move, people stop seeing me as just a player,” Do-Jin said. “They start digging into me as a person.”

“Yes,” she replied. “And that kind of attention tends to dig deep.”

Do-Jin nodded slowly. “You mean my background. The fact that I grew up in the system.”

Kim Young-Hee gave a small, apologetic smile. “Yes. If someone else exposes that instead of you controlling the narrative, it could hurt you.”

Do-Jin thought that over quietly. “But this is like the donations. Even if I do nothing now, people will eventually find out anyway.”

Kim Young-Hee exhaled and nodded. “That’s true too.”

The room fell silent, not because anyone had run out of words, but because everyone understood the weight of the decision sitting between them.

Ju Kang-Hee’s donations made in Do-Jin’s name, and the fact that he had no family to speak of, were things he had never really bothered thinking about. He had lived his life without paying them much attention, so they had never felt like burdens he needed to carry around. But the moment he became aware of them again, a different thought surfaced. He realized he could actually put those facts to use in a way that worked in his favor.

“Let’s just put everything on the table this time,” Do-Jin said casually. “Being an orphan only ever got me one perk, which was exemption from military service, so I might as well get some use out of it now.”

“What?”

Kim Young-Hee froze when she heard him say that so lightly, as if he were talking about someone else’s life.

“Like you said earlier, it’s just a matter of timing,” Do-Jin continued without hesitation. “People were going to find out eventually anyway, so there’s no point hiding it. Honestly, I’d rather say it myself than sit back and watch some third party dig it up and twist it into something ugly.”

“Even so, that still makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. I don’t care that much.”

Do-Jin smiled when he saw Young-Hee hesitate, clearly unsure how to react. “You don’t need to worry about my feelings. Just think about how to use what I’ve got to smash the idiots who keep running their mouths. That’s all I want you focused on.”

“Are you really sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes. Really. Truly. I mean it.”

Young-Hee let out a quiet breath, then nodded. “I respect that. Then I’ll build the plan with only one goal in mind, which is making sure you get exactly what you want out of this.”

He’s young enough to be my nephew, she thought.

Despite that, someone was actually trying to tear into a kid like this on purpose. The adults involved in this mess were genuinely pathetic. For once, Kim Young-Hee decided to put her emotions into her work.

She contacted him the very next day.

—I have a friend who works as a director, she said. I explained the situation, and she thinks she can turn it into something really strong. She asked if you could do a short interview, even if it’s just over a remote video call. Of course, we’ll get to review the edit before anything goes out.

Her plan was simple and ruthless. She intended to use her industry connections to cut off the other side’s momentum at the source.

For Young-Hee and her director friend, this situation felt like a fully prepared feast. The opposing argument boiled down to deranged nonsense about a game-addicted virtual reality junkie donating in a virtual world while neglecting reality, then supposedly corrupting his fans along with him.

They had more than enough material to tear that claim apart outright. On top of that, they were holding what people liked to call a strategic nuke, something that would blow up the moment anyone tried to poke at it. All they had to do was turn the other side into a sandbag and beat them senseless, one-sidedly, until nothing remained.

“How long is it supposed to take?” Do-Jin asked.

—No more than thirty minutes.

They scheduled the interview immediately.

At the time Do-Jin had requested, he met the director inside a virtual interview set built specifically for the occasion. She looked around the same age as Kim Young-Hee and carried herself with the composed air of an intelligent professional.

“Hello. I’m Kang Hee-Jin, the PD for People, Seen Up Close,” she said with a smile. “You’ve probably heard already, but I’m Young-Hee’s friend. We went to high school together.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Do-Jin.”

Although it was technically an interview, everyone knew editing would shape the final cut. That understanding kept the atmosphere relaxed and loose.

“Shall we get started?” Kang Hee-Jin asked. “And if anything feels uncomfortable, please tell me right away. You can answer however freely you like.”

“Alright.”

With Do-Jin’s calm reply, an interview began that would turn into a disaster for more than a few people.