Dusk (BL Light Novel)

The second anniversary event? Has it really been that long already? It feels like just yesterday when Dusk had first opened and the fields were so packed with players that quest mobs wouldn’t even respawn because they’d been wiped out. …Well, I guess the servers are still packed now too.
I glanced at the date in the mail and grabbed my phone to open the calendar app. I wasn’t the kind of person who meticulously marked every appointment, but I did jot down the really important ones—just in case I already had something scheduled for that day.

I swiped from the June calendar to check July. It was completely blank. I immediately sent a reply confirming my participation.
If they’re matching players based on counter classes, then the Holy Guardian’s counter would be… the Medic, right?
— “Oh?”

At that moment, I heard Retaking’s voice and turned to check the stream. At some point, he had logged in and was checking his mail just like I had. No way—did Retaking get invited too?
In Dusk, every class had designated counters in the name of “balance.” To put it simply, each class had at least one other class that could nullify or override its core strengths.
And the strongest counter to the Holy Guardian… was the Medic. Retaking’s main class.

My heart started pounding. Was I going to meet Retaking? Was I going to go head-to-head with him in the arena? A real-life PVP showdown?
I focused on the stream, pulse quickening. Retaking opened one of the mails and read it aloud under his breath. The phrasing was a little different, but the content was the same as what I’d received. He’d been invited too.
— “The offline event is next month? I can’t believe half the year’s already gone… There’s no official notice yet, right?”

He’ll come, right? He has to come. If the counter to Medic is Holy Guardian, then he has no choice but to show up and fight me in person, right?
— “‘The arena ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ will be a 1v1 ranking content conducted on randomized maps. Players will be matched with classes that naturally counter their own to ensure balance’… Oh! Wait, is Honeybread going to be there?”
Yes! I leaned toward the sub-monitor, eagerly waiting for what he’d say next.

— “If my counter is Holy Guardian, then… yeah. But guys, there’s one problem. I think July 16 falls on a weekend.”
Just when I was getting my hopes up, Retaking pulled up a browser, searched for a July calendar, and showed it to the viewers. Then he continued.
— “I don’t have anything scheduled ‘yet’ that day. But if something urgent comes up, I might have to go. I’m freelancing, but I’m still tied to a company. Especially on weekends—those get packed with concerts and events. It’s when I’m busiest.”

He crossed his arms like he was mulling it over, his lips probably fidgeting the way they always did when he was thinking (though the cam didn’t show his face—at least he wasn’t picking his nose or something). Then he gave a soft “hm.”
He can’t come because he’s tied to work? Then just quit. I know, quitting isn’t something most people can consider lightly, especially if they don’t have savings or an inheritance lined up.
But Retaking? That’s not a problem. I can support him. Even just handing over one of my accounts would let him live comfortably for decades. This was the perfect chance for him to go full-time as a streamer and live off content creation.

In a rush, I hit the donation button and used the Super Chat feature to scream at him:
[₩100,000 Donation – Quit your job]
— “...Qu—wait, what? Quit… Hang on, that’s from Zero-nim? You could type in chat?!”
Could I type in chat? Are you joking?

Between my donation and Retaking’s incredulous comment, the entire chat exploded. Half the viewers were shocked that I, who always just donated without a word, had actually typed something. The other half burst out laughing at his line about whether I could type.
Sure, I’d never typed anything before and had only supported him with donations. But still—was that really more shocking than me telling him to quit his job?
— “Wow, I’ve never seen Zero-nim type before. Isn’t this your first time chatting in my stream? I’m screenshotting this right now.”

Unbelievable. He actually took a screenshot, pasted it into MS Paint, and saved it. I was speechless. As if I’d ever type in chat again.
Maybe because I’d shouted at him to quit, the viewers started joining in with similar suggestions. Most were jokes, but a few looked suspiciously sincere.
It made sense, really. On days when he streamed after work, you could tell his energy was lower. And since he worked as a private bodyguard, he was probably stationed at events packed with crowds—no wonder he was exhausted.

— “Ahaha, quitting would be a bit much. Anyway… yeah. Because of that, I’ll have to check with my company before I can send a reply. I really hope I can go. But our company rep is pretty nice to me, so unless something urgent comes up, I think they’ll let me.”
Whether that “event” he’s hoping to attend turns out to be the Dusk anniversary or some concert job is anyone’s guess.
After smoothly wrapping things up and calming the chat, Retaking didn’t reply to the invitation. He just hit “Confirm” and collected all his ranking rewards. Then he opened his character info and equipped the title.

Seeing him do that reminded me, so I returned to my own game screen, claimed my rewards, and equipped the title.
Meanwhile, through my headset, I could hear Retaking’s calm voice leading a deep discussion with his chat about why the title used the word “perfected.”
Retaking wasn’t just good at playing games—he also loved digging into story hints and hidden lore. Most of his stream banter during downtime was filled with that kind of theorizing. He was actually pretty well-known for being a lore-obsessed oddball streamer who would go to insane lengths to uncover secrets.

I liked that kind of stuff too, but not quite to the point of doing deep dives. So while I sorted the gear I got from rewards and reactivated the guild buffs that had expired, I let his voice run in the background like white noise.
— “You know how, in other games, characters in the login screen usually have some lively motion or pose? But in Dusk, they just sit there like they’re dead… or dolls. That, plus the NPC dialogue that stirred up a lot of speculation a while ago—I think players in Dusk are puppets. Right? The further away you go from the temple towns, the more NPCs call us puppets and avoid us. So I think the player characters are marionettes, and the word ‘perfected’ in the title is a kind of tag for players who’ve been fine-tuned to the highest standard.”
“Perfected,” huh. Hearing him say that made the title feel a little eerie. Like a model student honed to perfection under the weight of parental expectations and reward-based discipline. Not so different.

…Of course, that didn’t mean I had any plans to take off the title that gave +2% to all stats and was limited to just ten players across the whole server—and matched Retaking’s, at that.
[Guild] Submaster Ceylontea has logged in.
As soon as that message popped up in the guild tab, Ceylontea’s character appeared near me in a flash of light. She immediately hurried over to the mailbox to claim her ranking rewards.

[Guild] Honeybread: yo
[Guild] Ceylontea: yo yo
[Guild] everynameisalreadytaken: welcome, everyone lol
[Guild] Ceylontea: looking for someone to join my farming party this week with Honeybread
[Guild] Honeybread: why are we farming? I finished everything
[Guild] everynameisalreadytaken: I wanna go, I’m putting together a warrior set this week lol
[Guild] Honeybread: ooh, tank?
[Guild] everynameisalreadytaken: not for dungeon tanking lol
[Guild] Honeybread: rip
Everynameisalreadytaken—aka "Nickdup"—was a player who only ever raised Assassin Destroyers, or sometimes called Snipers (archer-type characters). He was skilled enough to place in the top five of the class rankings. Lately, though, he’d suddenly gotten obsessed with Warriors and had finished leveling one, slowly gearing it up.
The two of them said they were going to send party invites and asked us to wait. Then things went quiet. Looked like they switched to party chat.

I finished sorting my rewards and, before logging out, tossed a bunch of potions, scrolls, and in-game currency into the guild storage for emergency use. Most of our members were tanks or DPS, so we were nearly out of HP potions.
With everything done, I opened the quest log with a light heart. I planned to clear out the newly updated main story in advance. That way I wouldn’t forget anything and could jump right into the new dungeon next week when it opened. Plus, I enjoyed watching Retaking’s main story videos afterward and comparing how the plot varied between races and classes.
I checked the quest, opened my inventory, and tore a waypoint scroll to teleport to Atelierna Wisha, the story’s starting base. While the loading screen ran, I muted Retaking’s stream. I needed to focus on the story.

Once the loading finished, I followed the quest instructions to meet the Holy Guardian’s representative NPC, “Howa Shediana.” But when I arrived at the location, there wasn’t a single NPC in sight—just a crowd of players.
Confused, I stood around for a moment—then suddenly, the quest updated.