The Idle Game Shuts Down

"Here's your pay for today."

"...Why's it 150,000 won? Wasn't it supposed to be 200,000?"

"You little shit. I saved your ass when you were about to die. That, whatchamacallit. Relief pay. Something like that."

"No, that's not—! Never mind. Got it."

"Good. Be more careful next time."

I clutched the dingy yellow envelope stuffed with crumpled bills and turned to leave. Thinking I'd gotten far enough away, perhaps, a small voice echoed behind me.

—That look in his eyes. I oughta just cut him down.

"......"

I picked up my pace. Only after completely ignoring the faint mutterings and exiting the dungeon did I finally stop.

Late as it was, I grumbled to myself.

"Like it's my fucking fault. Shit."

I'd gone back for the hunter's dropped gear and gotten surrounded by goblins. Thanks to my screaming my lungs out—"Save me! Please!"—the hunters came and pulled me out alive, but they fleeced me under the guise of "relief pay."

"This is bullshit. I'm dying here."

Picking up loot and looking after hunters is the porter's job, sure, but aren't personal valuables supposed to be their own responsibility? Not according to the law, though. Porter roles and rights are codified in the statutes, ink barely dry... but the field is what it is. The law's far away, fists are close, and rice bowls even closer.

"Haa."

I peeked into the yellow envelope. Hoping it'd multiplied on its own, but nope—still 150,000 won. Pay for 10 hours of manual labor from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. Considering I hauled 50kg of loot over a dozen kilometers, it's peanuts.

"Even day labor pays better than this."

I grumbled, but that's old news too. This era's bottom-feeders with physical enhancements have taken over construction sites, so a guy like me with just a low-grade Inventory can't even set foot there.

I'd love a cushy part-time gig at least, but that's no easy feat either. With awakeners and monsters rampaging in this post-cataclysm world, the laws patch themselves daily like some gacha game. Lately, they added the Awakener Labor Special Act. Its gist: restrictions on awakener employment to protect jobs for regular companies and small businesses. I'm legally an awakener with my low-grade Inventory (3m x 3m), so I got caught in it.

Taking a hit like a dog against an amateur boxer, and they force me to "rest" as a NEET? I tried raising hell on communities and petitions, but communities called it bitching and shat on me, petitions went unanswered.

"Fucking hell. Stuck in this generation."

I sighed deeply at the annoyingly clear blue sky, oblivious to my mood. Nothing changes. I dragged my heavy feet onward.

Just as I reached my monthly rental room, my phone buzzed.

"Aigoo. Is our Seiren hungry?"

I rushed through a shower, flopped onto the bed, and tapped the notification. The app launched, showing a small room: teddy bear, dollhouse set, picture books—a typical little girl's space. A girl who looked about five was rolling around playfully, a speech bubble floating over her head.

I quickly opened the shop and bought jjajang ramen.

Watching Seiren pop up various bubbles, I smiled contentedly. This shitty life's one joy is this game. Hero Raiser, an idle game. Unlike typical ones where you grow characters by killing trash mobs, this makes you raise them from childhood. Unlike my stagnant life—no growth, no family—Seiren grows fast. Her chubby cheeks give vicarious... nah, not really. Just plain adorable, makes my heart melt.

"Heh heh. So cute."

From a famed AI chat sim company, it doesn't feel scripted at all. Feels half like real parenting. Not paternal exactly—more like having a much younger sister. Forgot the goal of demon lord hunting ages ago. Just feeding her, putting her to bed, dealing with tantrums—it's too fun.

I typed into the bottom input box.

The skill tree sparkled, so I checked: 'Mana: Beginner' unlocked. Last login, I suggested learning mana, and smart Seiren read the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠book herself and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠learned it! No badmouthing auto-growth level-ups. I treat our Seiren like a real person.

I rubbed the screen over her head. Seiren closed her eyes happily, nuzzling into it. Look at those cheeks.

"Ah, fuck."

Too damn cute. Can't take it. I'd hesitated 'cause it's pricey, but for our Seiren...!

I tapped the small button up top.

Even resolved, my finger hesitated at the devilish price. Matches today's pay. Game company's ploy, preying on weak human hearts to squeeze blood money—reason screams. But reason's slave to emotion.

Bought it instantly.

One year later.

Still portering. Rumors some porters exposed to dungeons awaken higher abilities, but bullshit, probably. Means my lot's unchanged.

"Isn't hauling gear your job as a porter?"

"......"

A white-haired woman glares at me. Party's sole mage, academy elite. What'd I do to her? Nothing. Zilch. I just refused her insane order to carry her loot home.

"Do you get it now, what you did wrong?"

"......I didn't do anything wrong."

"What?"

"...Do you think porters are slaves? Our role is—"

"Ah, whatever."

"......"

The psycho bitch who thinks her mouth's the only one spun on her heel and left. I looked around. Fellow porters avoided my eyes and scattered; hunters smirked, shook heads, followed her.

Left alone. In the silence, I muttered.

"...Fuck. Thought at least one would back me up."

No loyalty, those bastards. I took the lead for our shared plight, and they treat me like a discarded puppet. Hah— I rubbed my dry face and exited ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the dungeon.

Just out, phone buzzed. Predictable text result. Pocketing it to move, another buzz—unexpected this time.

Service end notice.

"What the fuck."

Logged in, checked mail. Long-winded notice starting "Dear User—". Efforts failed, users left—admitting defeat. Predictable end.

"...Knew it."

Screen showed Seiren, now twenty. Hunting in the 'hunting' field since last week. I've dumped over ten million won. Played over a year, only now entering hunting fields. Game's progression is glacially slow. I stuck for Seiren love, but others bailed from boredom long ago.

"Fucked..."

Below: final event, refund period. All purchases refundable within a month, no new buys after. Shop 90% off.

Staring sadly at the notice, Seiren paused hunting to greet me. I petted her head, entered shop. BM prices slashed. But with shutdown looming, cheap traps to worthless data. Still, I scooped them up. Knowing I'd never see her again, wanted to give everything undone. Even unreciprocated. Ignoring reason's whisper—she's just 0s and 1s—I paid. Million-won sucker into a dying game. That's me. Foolish spending cleared my head. Might as well set a goal.

"Gonna make her an Archmage."

One month to shutdown. Make Seiren an archmage, slay the demon lord before then.

A month flew by. Half-goal achieved. Seiren became an archmage, but no demon lord kill. Barely beat weakest of four ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heavenly kings. Stuck there, never saw the boss. One more month, I'd have his head. Shame.

15 minutes to end. Bought one more item.

Item letting you set the title the character calls you by.

Replaces those ■■ with your name. Evil 590,000 won original, 59,000 on clearance—still steep... but desire to hear Seiren say my name crushed final reason.

"Should've bought this ages ago."

Not just title—boosts affection speed too. Smart to buy early, but endgame sucker here. Whatever. Used the Title Designation Right right away.

And,

Black boxes peeled, my name filled in. Grinning like an idiot, I remembered time's short. Shutdown doesn't erase Seiren forever, I think. User can't log in, but her life continues, I believe. Awkward farewell—more ramble.

"Sniff..."

Ugly tears falling, I typed.

Want more replies, but server shut first. Kicked from app.

"Kuhuhuk. Seiren...."

Tears streamed. Thirty-one years old. One summer day.

......

And the next day. The doorbell rang.