Chapter 3: Parsley Market (1)

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in my cramped one-room apartment.

Phew.

I sighed in relief.

Nothing serious had happened to my body.

I hadn’t been abruptly abducted for alien experiments.

The ‘Status Window on Strike,’ which had been blurring my vision, was gone.

The chat window, which had been flooded with my conversation with the Status Window administrator, was also invisible.

How much time had passed?

When I was having the Q&A with the administrator, morning sunlight had been streaming through the curtains. Now, evening twilight was seeping in.

I smoothed my disheveled hair and sat up.

I looked around the room again.

As expected, there was no sign of the Status Window on strike.

So…

Phew.

I took a deep breath and launched the Status Window.

A version display I’d never seen before flashed briefly, and the holographic window popped up.

”…Huh?”

I could only gape in bewildered silence.

The blue holographic window—no, to be precise, the information displayed within it—had changed dramatically.

“This is completely different? It looks like a smartphone home screen now.”

Previously, the Status Window had consisted solely of white text against a blue background, displaying my name, stats, and skills.

Now, translucent icons were embedded against a semi-transparent background.

At the bottom, a Home button had been added for returning to the main screen, along with a Back button for navigating to the previous menu.

I tapped one of the icons floating on the screen—a round, clay-like figure of a human raising one hand.

Activating “My Body Information.”

Immediately afterward, accompanied by that message, a clean, modern interface appeared, displaying my stats:

If Management Mi was right, this single app contained all the functions of the outdated Status Window.

But that wasn’t all.

Suddenly, an image of my body appeared. Arrows sprouted across it, listing new information:

It wasn’t just displaying stats; it was diagnosing my physical condition and suggesting treatments.

“Huh.”

A gasp escaped my lips involuntarily.

It felt like the shock of switching from a brick phone that could only make calls to my first smartphone.

I hastily returned to the home screen.

On the transparent background, several icons accompanied the health data I had just viewed.

I quickly tapped a few of them.

But…

”…Hmm.”

Disappointment crept into my expression as I stroked my chin.

No matter how many times I tapped the icons, there was no response.

It was as if the functions were completely non-operational.

To be fair, it was still a vast improvement over the original status window.

But in the end, the core functionality remained almost identical.

“At this rate, it’s just a beautiful apricot with no taste.”

I muttered those words, a hint of disappointment in my voice.

”?”

A small window appeared on the left side of my head.

Huh, what’s this pathetic emoji doing here?

[ Status Window Manager: To call such a superb Status Window a beautiful apricot with no taste? That’s going too far! ( >д<)/ ]

“But I never requested a Q&A.”

“Then why have you been secretly watching me? It’s creepy.”

It seemed to have been observing me ever since I regained consciousness.

“Suddenly?”

“So what?”

Of all the managers, why did it have to be this chatty, emoticon-abusing one?

Ah, in that case, this might actually be better. At least this manager is less sensitive than a boss who goes on strike after getting flicked on the forehead three times.

“So, while you’re in control, there shouldn’t be any random Status Window malfunctions, right?”

“From now on, that won’t happen again, so don’t worry.”

“What is it?”

The chat window bounced as if displeased.

“There’s no need for formalities anymore, right?”

To be honest, Management Mi’s tone was so casual that she seemed endlessly younger than me.

Of course, even if she changed her tone, I had no intention of using polite speech again.

“So why is this happening? Was it always broken?” I asked, pointing to the icons frozen except for “My Physical Information.”

Management Mi answered.

Now that I thought about it, there was a bar graph displayed in the lower right corner of my status window.

I tapped it.

An unfathomable number appeared.

But before I could ask, Management Mi preemptively explained:

Synchronization rate.

“How do I meet the threshold?”

Just get stronger, huh.

The concept wasn’t difficult to grasp.

But achieving that wouldn’t be easy.

To raise the Synchronization Rate to 90%, I would need stats dozens of times higher than my current ones.

So, to unlock all the features of the Status Window…

Roughly estimating, I’d need to be at least on par with a world-ranking hunter.

That goal seemed utterly unrealistic.

“So, there are no other penalties for having a low Synchronization Rate besides the feature restrictions?”

[ Of course not! ] Management Mi answered confidently.

But why…

“What’s written below the bar graph?”

The text was in red, as if it were another warning:

Huh…?

Management Mi finally seemed to notice something was wrong and hurriedly brought up the chat window.

About five minutes later:

Management Mi spoke hesitantly, glancing sideways.

“Overlooked?”

Why is my skill a problem?

“An error?”

Management Mi paused briefly, then continued cautiously:

A damaged Status Window?

In other words…

I asked with a hardened expression, “What skill has such a fatal error? Why weren’t you aware of it?”

Management Mi apologized repeatedly, her voice dejected.

”…”

I crossed my arms and fell into thought.

So, if I don’t raise my Synchronization Rate to 15 percent within a week…

…the Status Window might malfunction, potentially costing me my life?

Management Mi displayed another apology:

“Does that mean the Status Window wouldn’t have deactivated if I hadn’t upgraded?”

After a brief pause, Management Mi answered hesitantly, her words coming with difficulty.

The compatibility issues between the outdated Status Window and the Remarkable Growth skill system must have caused a major incident for Taejun within the next year.

In other words, even if he’d kept the old Status Window, he wouldn’t have avoided death.

I paused, lost in thought.

Then I nodded.

“That’s settled, then.”

It seemed I’d been living on borrowed time ever since my terminal diagnosis seven years ago.

Until now, there was no way to escape that fate. But now, even with conditions, I’ve finally obtained a cure.

There’s no time to waste.

I need to focus on achieving my given objective and moving forward.

“So stop moping and start thinking about how to help me. I’ll need your assistance to adapt to this Status Window quickly.”

“Ah, of course, I’m sure you remember your mistake, so keep that in mind.”

I asked Management Mi, who had once again slumped in dejection:

“So, at this synchronization level, the only function available is physical information?”

“I’m not talking about those.”

Internet?

Management Mi’s chat window, now brimming with renewed energy, bounced eagerly.

Moments later, a new window popped up:

“Ah, is this it?”

A new icon was shining brighter than the others.

It seemed to be a newly activated function.

But this.

“This app looks oddly familiar.”

It wasn’t just my imagination.

The icon had a white background with a cute parsley graphic embedded in it.

Even without the function name written below, an intense sense of deja vu washed over me.

And for good reason.

“Isn’t this icon remarkably similar to Carrot Market’s?”

No matter how closely I examined it, the icon’s design was nearly identical to my frequently used secondhand trading app.

The only difference was that instead of a carrot in the center, there was parsley.

So it was Carrot Market after all.

Carrot Market is a trading app, primarily used for direct transactions of secondhand goods between private individuals.

So, is this another feature that allows Status Window users to trade items between themselves?

The question was quickly answered:

Activating Parsley Market.