* * *
“I’m not planning to come back.”
The memory of Youngwoong, floating midair in radiant silver armor, surrounded by a mystical pink aura, and uttering those words, replayed in Hojin’s mind.
He buried his face in his hands, rubbing furiously as if trying to scrub away the thought.
His stubble scratched his palms.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Youngwoong had been a beacon of confidence, even helping Hojin see the world as a little more bearable.
The idea that someone like him would choose to stay in a game world over returning to reality was incomprehensible.
“I need to talk to him again.”
Hojin lowered his hands and stared at his PC screen.
No matter what it took, he had to meet Youngwoong again.
To meet the hero, who claimed to be living in the game world, Hojin would have to enter the game himself.
He displayed the user ID for the account he had given Youngwoong.
Meeting “Hero Jin,” the NPC version, wouldn’t suffice—he needed to find the real Jin Youngwoong.
This added layers of complexity to the problem.
Over the years, Hojin had encountered countless unexpected challenges and fixed numerous bugs.
But he had never dealt with someone being absorbed into a game, making it nearly impossible to find a solution.
Asking for help was out of the question.
Hojin worked relentlessly, spending sleepless nights debugging the Fantasy Land servers.
He fixed most of the errors but refrained from reporting his progress to avoid being assigned additional tasks.
His sole focus was on finding a way to contact Youngwoong.
The stress began to take its toll, leaving Hojin increasingly haggard.
Even his manager, who usually nitpicked, expressed concern, urging him to take it easy.
One day, Hojin had an idea.
“Could I use a virtual reality system to control an NPC as if it were my body?”
He recalled that the team in the adjacent department was working on a VR game.
During a break, he toyed with a VR headset, formulating a plan.
“If it works, I might be able to meet him face-to-face and talk to him directly.”
It was a technology that defied common sense.
After all, Fantasy Land Hero wasn’t a VR-based game.
Even if he used a VR headset now, there was no way to enter the game world.
But then again, the very idea of a hero entering the game itself was already irrational.
Hojin grabbed an unused VR headset and tucked it into his bag.
As long as he returned it to the company after using it, there shouldn’t be any problems.
Back home, Hojin set the headset down and pulled out a variety of equipment he’d stored in his closet.
They were tools he’d obsessively collected over the years, related to game development—a pursuit that filled the void of having neither friends nor hobbies.
Among the items was a device still in the research phase, designed to connect human nerves to a game by attaching electrodes to the head.
Hojin launched Fantasy Land Hero on his laptop and logged in with an admin account, enabling external connections.
Then he took a screwdriver, opened the VR headset, and began modifying it to integrate the neural connection device.
The process took hours of meticulous effort.
Though his job involved staring at code all day, the strain was immense.
His eyes burned, and he could feel the veins in his temples throbbing.
Still, he forced himself to stay focused.
After much trial and error, he finally succeeded in modifying the VR headset as he’d envisioned.
Hojin stared at the headset, swallowing nervously.
‘What if this damages my nerves?’
The device hadn’t been tested for safety.
But among all the ideas he’d come up with, this seemed the most plausible.
If it meant meeting the hero and having a conversation, he was willing to risk physical harm.
‘What’s the worst that could happen? I might die, I guess.’
It was 3:50 a.m. in Korea.
In Fantasy Land, where the hero resided, it was 4:50 p.m.
Hojin donned the modified VR headset and connected the wires to the converter.
Pain shot through his head as if his eyes were being gouged out, but he endured it, input the final code, and pressed Enter.
He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and moved his trembling hand to the keyboard.
Click.
The Enter key was pressed. Darkness swallowed his vision.
◇ ◇ ◇
“…Ugh.”
A grating, metallic screech assaulted his ears, like nails on steel.
It felt as though his eardrums were being shredded, making him shudder.
Thankfully, the noise stopped quickly, replaced by a familiar melody.
‘This… this is the background music for Butterfly Hill.’
Butterfly Hill was one of the early open maps.
The music, performed by a renowned Korean pianist, was so iconic that even non-players of Fantasy Land Hero would recognize it.
‘Did it work?’
Hojin strained to open his heavy eyelids, revealing an incredibly vivid landscape.
A gentle breeze stirred the air, swaying yellow flowers with butterfly-like petals in unison.
The synchronized movement diminished the sense of realism but reinforced the fact that he was inside the game.
“But… what am I now?”
Hojin looked down at his hands.
They weren’t the hands he was used to seeing.
They resembled those of an adult man, but they weren’t his. He hastily examined his attire.
“…An NPC?”
In his rush to figure out how to connect, he hadn’t considered which character he’d link to.
Apparently, he’d ended up as a generic NPC, like a “Villager No. 1.”
Spotting a puddle nearby, he leaned over to check his reflection—a completely ordinary face stared back at him.
It was likely the default design for a character in the game.
‘How am I supposed to find Jin Youngwoong like this?’
As an NPC, he couldn’t run, warp, or leave his designated area.
He walked in circles, confined to a small zone.
Though he’d managed to enter the game, it seemed he’d accomplish nothing before having to log out.
As despair began to creep in, he heard footsteps.
The sound sent a jolt through his entire body.
Over the hill came a man with snow-white hair and a radiant face.
The sight filled Hojin with such joy that he almost cried out.
“Ah, here you are!”
The hero smiled brightly as he ran toward Hojin.
This wasn’t the pre-programmed “Hero Jin” character with set dialogue—it was the real hero.
Overwhelmed, Hojin held his breath to keep from crying.
The hero approached, earrings gleaming, and pulled something out of his bag. From the tiny pouch emerged a massive basket of food.
“Jerome, here you go. It’s the chicken dish you requested.”
The hero handed Hojin a steaming plate of food.
Apparently, the NPC’s name was Jerome.
Dazed, Hojin accepted the dish.
“Chicken dish?”
“Yes, you asked for it.”
“Oh…”
Hojin stared blankly at the dish.
The detailed design was identical to the illustrated food items he’d seen before.
The realistic presentation made it look delicious, but he wasn’t hungry—his nerves were too tense.
He set the basket aside and prepared to speak.
As he hesitated, the hero, who had been smiling, began to frown and tilt his head.
“What’s going on? The quest is completed, but there’s no reward. Is the bug still not fixed?”
Hojin stared at the hero, unsure of what he meant.
The hero extended a hand, expecting a reward. Hojin had nothing to offer, so he froze.
The hero sighed dramatically.
“This game is so buggy. Should I report this to CS again? Did Hojin even fix the previous errors?”
“I fixed all of them.”
“Oh, good. Wait… what?”
* * *
