I’m the Only One Who Can’t See Ghosts

The White Gym.

A gym where trainers, so pale they seemed eerie, roamed about. Initially, during the first classification of anomalous phenomena, it was rated as an F-grade anomaly.

It wasn’t just an anomaly—it was dangerous enough to cost lives, thus labeled a “phenomenon.” However, the benefits far outweighed the risks, and survival was relatively easy, so it was classified as an F-grade phenomenon.

Still, the phenomenon provided a significant soul-strengthening effect, so rather than extinguishing it, people decided to keep using it.

For fame, for revenge, for countless reasons to grow stronger, people used this phenomenon.

And so, the workouts continued.

The more the training progressed, the stronger the trainers became—strong enough to kill a participant of the Cheonji Entry Examination with a single blow.

After that incident, the gym was reclassified as a C-grade phenomenon.

Naturally, as a C-grade phenomenon that threatened humanity, a raid team was organized. That raid team was annihilated.

Later, when three sects vanished, the gym was finally classified as an A-grade phenomenon.

****

“The strategy was simple.”

Celestial-Slayer peered through the window into the gym. As she did, one of the eerie “trainers” turned its lifeless, four-white-eyed gaze towards her.

A trace of what might once have been called protein—leftovers of someone who had been human—clung to the trainer’s lips. It was far too realistic to be part of a game.

Celestial-Slayer recognized the familiar sight and reflected.

“The strategy for this gym was straightforward. The phenomenon strengthens people by using its own power. All you had to do was absorb enough of its power that the phenomenon itself couldn’t withstand it.”

The solution was to work out to the point where the gym could no longer sustain itself. For an A-grade phenomenon, it was an unusually easy strategy.

Yet, countless strong individuals had perished failing to achieve it.

“Those machines don’t move with strength. They don’t even move with abilities.”

The exercise machines in this phenomenon didn’t respond to brute strength or special abilities. They moved solely through willpower and instinct, as if the game had sealed away all the participants’ inherent strength and abilities.

That was why even the strongest eventually collapsed, exhausted…

…only to become protein for the trainers.

After countless sacrifices, soul-enhanced warriors finally reached a clear answer.

An opponent who couldn’t be defeated by strength or ability, but only through sheer willpower?

In that case, the solution was simple: send in an endless stream of ordinary people. Surely, among them, someone with extraordinary willpower would emerge.

Alternatively, they could find ways to bolster the willpower of the ordinary masses.

By “various” methods, of course.

Crunch.

Celestial-Slayer ground her teeth audibly.

“Damned thing.”

Working out for over 24 hours straight—just 30 minutes in that gym could make you feel like you were on the verge of death. After an hour, you’d feel like you had truly reached your limits.

And then someone would collapse.

That person would be caught by the trainers and slowly ripped apart, turned into protein. Watching that horrifying fate might scare you into holding out for another hour.

But two hours was the limit.

To clear it, you had to endure for more than 22 hours beyond that.

“How is that man still standing…?”

But that man had already lasted over three hours. Not only that, he maintained an unflinching, stoic expression—like a true alpha male.

“Just how strong is his mental fortitude?”

Celestial-Slayer couldn’t hide her astonishment.

Enduring the workout was worse than enduring torture.

If torture was a passive form of suffering, working out in the gym was active suffering. And of course, willingly enduring pain was far easier to give up on.

What kind of man could have such incredible willpower and perseverance?

Celestial-Slayer couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile, Yoo Hajin was simply lying down.

“Ah, today’s plastic bottle recycling day.”

Scratching his head, he muttered while watching a macro farm screen and a live stream simultaneously. The pile of plastic bags reminded him that today was the day to throw them out.

But he was too lazy to move.

And besides, wasn’t it a waste to go outside just to throw out trash? At some point, he’d have to go out anyway, so he could just take it then.

Nod, nod.

Yoo Hajin nodded to himself in agreement with his thoughts.

It was too much effort to even nod properly.

With a half-hearted gesture, Yoo Hajin stretched out a hand and patted Myeong-Myeong, letting out a loud yawn. Glancing at the screen, he confirmed the macro was running smoothly.

For someone as weak-willed as him, this method worked best.

He knew macros—or algorithmic grinding—were frowned upon. But with the stakes involving his “Nayu Family”, he had no choice.

Thunk.

At that moment, Yoo Hajin’s phone slipped from his hand and rolled to the far side of the bed, just out of reach. He stretched his arm, but it remained frustratingly out of grasp.

He’d have to get up to retrieve it.

But that was too much trouble for Yoo Hajin.

“Myeong-Myeong.”

“Myeong?”

“Can you grab that for me?”

“Myeong-Myeong?”

While Myeong-Myeong pretended not to understand, Celestial-Slayer realized her knuckles had gone white from how tightly she was clenching her fists.

“Just how strong is his mental fortitude…?!”

Oblivious to Celestial-Slayer’s astonishment, Yoo Hajin, the supposed paragon of mental resilience, was lazily arguing with Myeong-Myeong about retrieving his phone.

Neither Celestial-Slayer nor Nayu understood this situation.

Nayu, in particular, was known for her strong willpower.

No—her mental fortitude was exceptional.

If Nayu had possessed the mindset of an ordinary girl, she might have annihilated the Heavenly Ordeal Sect at the age of 12, achieving enlightenment far earlier.

But Nayu was tough on the inside, despite her delicate exterior.

It was that inner strength that allowed her to endure years of abuse until the age of twenty.

Still, even for her, continuously maintaining this workout for hours on end was excruciating.

“Nayu… pant… pant…”

Thirty seconds later, Yoo Hajin noticed and asked, “Nayu, are you tired?”

“N-not… tired… liar…”

“Hop on.”

Yoo Hajin offered her his back. Could she really rely on him like this? They’d made a promise before entering this place.

If Nayu couldn’t hold out, she was to ride on his back. The system would count it as a combined effort if they used the machines together. If the trainers didn’t accept it, Yoo Hajin swore he’d sprint to her place and forcibly disconnect her from the game.

He always managed to break conventional rules—like nullifying astral projection. How did he even do that?

Nayu realized she didn’t know much about Yoo Hajin.

That lack of understanding always nagged at her.

Did he have a family?

Why did he sometimes look at Sojin with such a sorrowful gaze?

In the Heavenly Ordeal Sect, in this broken world, why did he always help her? He had to be struggling just as much, yet he still carried her burdens.

“Hop on already.”

“I… I can’t…”

Without a word, Heavenly Demon Descendant lifted Nayu onto his back and resumed his grueling workout.

Exhausted, Nayu clung to his back and eventually fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Celestial-Slayer silently observed the scene. For someone to offer their back in such a dire situation…

“Is this… what it means to be a real man?”

Of course, at the same time, Yoo Hajin was glaring at Myeong-Myeong for not retrieving his phone.

“No treats for you today,” he declared with mock seriousness.

“Myeong?! Myeong-Myeong?!”

.

.

.

A full day passed.

Yoo Hajin alternated between nodding off while running macros, responding to Nayu’s chat requests, and carrying her when needed. He diligently grinded his stats.

—---

Status Window

Heavenly Demon Descendant Lv. 2

Class: Beginner

HP: 400/400

MP: 300/300

STR: 201

DEX: 145

SOUL: 99

Skills:

Echo of Perseverance (Passive) Lv. 1

—---

By the end of the day, his character had grown dozens of times stronger.

His stats were now nearly at a ranker level.

If he also received the first-clear reward for conquering an A-grade dungeon (phenomenon)…

<You have conquered the White Gym! Reward: White Fortification (Active) Lv. 1>

<You are the first to conquer an A-grade dungeon! Bonus reward: A-grade Conqueror>

White Fortification was a skill that consumed spirit energy to drastically enhance physical strength and defense.

The A-grade Conqueror title unlocked an advanced hidden class in the Conqueror job line. Yoo Hajin could already feel himself reaching the pinnacle of a master sculptor’s domain.

“I, Kanglim.”

As he muttered, a woman clapped her hands beside him—Celestial-Slayer.

<Celestial-Slayer: You’re incredible!>

<Heavenly Demon Descendant: What? You’re my servant, aren’t you?>

Why didn’t she go for the “Low God” route? Yoo Hajin pondered while smirking.

Yoo Hajin tilted his head in confusion.

If it had been him, he would’ve logged off immediately.

<Celestial-Slayer: I don’t care if I’m your servant or whatever. Just form a party with me.>

<Heavenly Demon Descendant: Why would I trust you and let you join my party? Go away.>

<Celestial-Slayer: A lunatic with your level of mental resilience isn’t logging into this game just to have fun. You’re here to search for traces of the vanished Hereditary Shamans, right?>

What was she talking about?

If she meant Hereditary Shamans, that would include his family, wouldn’t it?

It was intriguing, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

‘Am I forgetting something?’

Something felt off—something he was missing.

<Celestial-Slayer: Before the Day of Awakening, whenever someone mentioned spirit users, everyone thought of the Hereditary Shamans. Now, no one remembers them. People dismiss them as frauds, but we know the truth, don’t we? They were the strongest group of spirit users.>

Half-ignoring the chat, Yoo Hajin sank into thought.

“What am I overlooking?”

<Celestial-Slayer: That’s why, if you enter the hidden areas of this game, you’ll find the remnants of the Hereditary Shamans—their greatest warriors, the priest shamans’ lingering souls, and…>

“Aha.”

At that moment, Yoo Hajin realized it.

Nayu hadn’t said a single word in response.

He muttered to himself, “How many hours has Nayu been logged in? She hasn’t even had water, has she? This is insane gaming addiction!”

Without hesitation, he logged out of the game and sprinted toward Nayu’s house.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

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