Prologue
The last day of my paid leave.
I sat alone in my dim studio apartment, staring at the console game screen. Gentle music played as the ending credits rolled by.
"Cleared it..."
I flopped back onto the bed and let out a massive sigh. The floor was littered with a dozen or so empty energy drink cans. I'd pulled five straight all-nighters without a break, leaving my body in ruins, but the results were incredibly satisfying.
The game I'd conquered was Ancestors, Please Bless Us, a domestic action RPG exclusive to Gray Station 4, released in March of last year. Even as most studios shifted to mobile games, Mobius stuck doggedly to consoles and scored a global hit with this ambitious title. From gameplay and story to world-building, character designs, and music—every element delivered total immersion. At a full package price of 85,000 won, it was a masterpiece that didn't feel overpriced at all.
"That was a long haul."
When I said "cleared it" just now, I didn't mean just finishing the story mode. The TV screen, after the credits faded, boldly displayed a playtime of a whopping 3,500 hours.
My "clear" meant wrapping up the final route—unlocked only after replaying from the tutorial on the highest difficulty, uncovering every hidden element—without ever peeking at a guide. All on my own.
"Can't believe I pulled this off."
I had to go back to work tomorrow, so prep time for the final boss was tight, but I made it through on low levels and mid-tier gear by drawing on my experience.
The storyline was simple: Modern Earth invaded by otherworldly beings. The stage is a high school training Awakened—people with powers borrowed from their ancestors—where protagonists shine.
That's the gist in a few lines, but playing it feels worlds apart. You pick your protagonist from multiple characters, recruit diverse companions, and choices or battle outcomes spawn endless branches. Endings alone number in the dozens.
My 3,500 hours came from grinding through every insane pattern in those possibilities. Not bragging, but for a year and a half, I poured six and a half hours daily into story segments and battles.
It wasn't some obsessive need to see every ending like a paranoid perfectionist. Collecting them was just the means to an end—my real goal lay elsewhere.
No matter how hard I racked my brain or tried, one major character always died before the end in the game's brutal twists. As a 27-year-old virgin singleton civil servant with guaranteed clock-out times, I was primed for hyper-immersion. Each beloved character dying in varied patterns wrecked me every time.
What kept me enduring, replaying pattern after pattern? An Easter egg I stumbled on during my 15th run.
[There might be an ending where everyone can be happy.]
A line from the late-game daily life segment, heard while eating lunch with a specific character. It hinted at a perfect happy ending, morphing into concrete clues next playthrough. Digging deeper revealed subtle dialogue shifts everywhere.
I figured these were keys to a hidden ending. Clinging to faint hope of a route where all allies survived, I kept replaying.
And finally—the true ending, after nailing every hidden subquest and challenge. I screenshot the graduation photo featuring every main character using the console's tool.
All previous endings missed one or more; this time, perfect play saved them all. The righteous eldest son of a lineage house, Gong In-myeong. Shin Sua, the chaebol heiress with blessed talents. Seol Romi, heir to a famed monk's bloodline. Beyond those three, the other selectable protagonists and companions beamed in the photo.
As if thanking me.
"Hm?"
That's when it happened. The photo on screen slowly rotated, revealing the back.
"What the—?"
A pattern I'd never seen. Dozens of endings, and nothing like this.
[You have glimpsed a future that should not exist.]
[With the information and experience gathered from this simulation—]
[You might truly save these children from tragedy.]
What the hell did that mean? I'd already reached the perfect happy ending. Saved all major characters, thwarted the world's cataclysm. Was there still something I hadn't seen?
Confusion swirled with excitement at untapped content. As those emotions churned in my chest, a new message appeared where the photo vanished.
[Start a new playthrough?]
[Yes / No]
"Gotta work tomorrow..."
The clock read 2:30 a.m. If I didn't sleep soon, I'd drag myself to the office half-dead.
"...Just one chapter."
The debate was brief. I grabbed the controller, selected Yes—and
The opening cinematic hit, and I blacked out right away.
End of Prologue