Chapter 385

Chapter 385

Reincarnated User Manual.

Episode 385: W-IFSS: If This Were A Childhood Friend Story Instead (7)

After the commotion had subsided, inside a certain cave.

Hyun-jun stared blankly at Yura from across the campfire.

Yura kept avoiding Hyun-jun’s gaze. Just a while ago, they had been energetically chasing each other as if making up for lost time, but now that they were actually face-to-face, neither of them could say a word.

Of course, it was awkward. Hyun-jun felt just as awkward.

“-Uweeeek!”

“-Kyaaah!”

His long-awaited reunion with his childhood friend was the worst. He had sworn not to forgive her until she prostrated herself and apologized, but thanks to the drunken commotion just now, everything had been brushed aside. Nothing in his heart had been properly settled, and the frustration was driving him crazy.

However, his concerns weren’t limited to just his disastrous reunion with Yura. Mustering his resolve, Hyun-jun finally parted his dry lips.

“That thing… how did you do it?”

“…Huh?”

Yura flinched, hugging her knees closer. Hyun-jun tried his best to shake off the tangled emotions in his heart as he continued.

“Firewood and flames appeared out of thin air. What was that? Did you use magic or something?”

“Ah.”

Yura scratched her cheek at his question.

She wasn’t just feeling awkward—she genuinely had no idea how to explain it.

“If I said it was a ‘status window,’ would you believe me?”

“What’s that?”

“I… I don’t really know either. But suddenly, this semi-transparent window appeared in the air, and I could assign points and use skills like in a game…”

Still, she decided to explain as best as she could. Though it had been a long time since they last met, Hyun-jun didn’t seem all that different (except that losing his baby fat made his features more defined). And in this unfamiliar place, it seemed better to work together than to be alone.

“Unbelievable.”

Fortunately, Hyun-jun understood—or maybe he just decided to believe her.

The fact that they had somehow ended up inside a game world and that Yura had acquired game-like abilities was hard to believe. But then again, waking up in the middle of an enemy stronghold and then being transported to a snowy mountain was just as unbelievable. So, his thoughts naturally flowed in the most reasonable direction.

But even so, there was something he couldn’t accept.

“Why don’t I have anything?”

As if suddenly being thrown into a game world wasn’t annoying enough, what pissed him off the most was this:

The sheer unfairness of it all.

“Status window.”

Hyun-jun quietly muttered.

“Status!”

He tried saying it with more force.

“Stat window!”

He shouted with crisp determination.

“Skill! Skill window! Inventory window! Chaaang! Nugeum-chaaaang!!!”

But no matter what he blurted out, nothing happened.

What kind of bullshit was this? Hyun-jun’s head began to heat up with frustration, and Yura cautiously reached out a hand to stop him.

“It looks like I’m the only one with a status window.”

“Why… why?! Why only me…”

“Don’t worry about it! Even if you don’t have a status window, you have me!”

Yura pounded her chest confidently. Hyun-jun shot her a cold stare.

“…What’s with that look? Do I really seem that unreliable?”

“You… never mind.”

“Why? What? What is it?!”

Now it was Yura’s turn to flush red. Hyun-jun let out a long sigh and turned his gaze away from her.

What annoyed him wasn’t just that he didn’t get a status window.

It was that Yura got one, and he didn’t. But his anger soon faded.

‘I’m not a kid anymore, there’s no point in getting worked up over something like this.’

Thinking back, most of his lingering resentment had always stemmed from Yura.

Not because Yura was amazing and he wasn’t, but because, as a child, Yura’s terrible personality constantly poked at his inferiority complex.

And yet, for some reason, Yura was now telling him to trust her and acting all mature. Had she finally developed some awareness, or had she simply grown up? He wasn’t sure, but her change left Hyun-jun feeling unsettled.

“Fine, I’ll trust you.”

“W-What? Why are you looking at me like that… so creepily…”

Seeing Hyun-jun smirk, Yura instinctively took a step back. Was he thinking something weird? She nervously adjusted her disheveled clothes and subtly crossed her arms over her chest.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other in so long, but she felt different from before. Yura’s breath hitched slightly.

—————

Near the Mountain of the Mother, there were people who made their home by a large lake.

Surviving in such an unforgiving environment, where snow never melted and demonic beasts attacked relentlessly, seemed almost impossible.

But for the [Silleya], it made sense.

Rarely interacting with outsiders, they remained hidden from the world. Yet, they were a people strong enough to endure life in this land.

They could withstand the bone-chilling cold without freezing to death, and even unarmed, they could hunt demonic beasts with their raw strength. So when Kyrie heard that her well-armed parents had been slain by monsters, it was only natural that she doubted it.

“That’s a lie…”

“I’m sorry, Kyrie. But your parents were brave warriors.”

A burly man, his arm tightly wrapped in bandages, let out a heavy sigh. Kuijin. He was a neighbor who often went hunting with Kyrie’s father. From the wounds still visible beyond the bandages, a sinister miasma leaked out.

“…Sniff.”

And so, all Kyrie could do was shut her eyes tightly and sniffle.

She was still young, but she understood how things worked in the village.

The fate of an orphan.

Most likely, she would become Kuijin’s adopted daughter or be taken in by another family.

The adults were already discussing what to do next.

The beasts had grown fiercer and stronger than in previous years. Kuijin, one of the village’s strongest, had suffered severe injuries, and the adults’ faces were grim.

“Sniff—”

The well-being of a parentless child came second.

Death was simply a part of Mother Nature’s cycle, and Kyrie’s grief would eventually fade.

To them, ensuring the survival of the tribe was the priority.

“Drip—”

“Drip, drop—”

“Khng.”

She wiped her sleeve across her face, suppressing the sobs rising to her throat.

Orphans grew up fast.