Episode 13. Status! (4)
Saving game. Do not exit the game until saving is complete.
As 8 p.m. approached in a certain Asian country renowned since ancient times for its gaming prowess—where people had always enjoyed games on ubiquitous devices like computers and phones—it was, honestly speaking, just Korea.
The player controlling Hasselhoff had logged out of the game for a brief moment and returned to his own world.
"Ugh... hah."
Stretching his stiff body brought a refreshing sensation. He'd been sitting idle while immersed in virtual reality, and now his head throbbed a little. Headaches were familiar territory by now, though—a common affliction for everyone as unconscious downtime increased from VR sessions and sleep.
He popped some painkillers, stretched fully once more, and finally felt at ease.
It's disorienting. Logging in every other day, and so much has changed again.
He felt a mix of great intrigue and bewilderment at the unexpectedly altered game environment. In the save data loaded after just a few days, Aiden's personality had shifted dramatically. And then there were those two unfamiliar NPCs. When he learned one was actually young Loqi Mendacium, who only appeared in the Omake Room, he seriously wondered if he was dreaming.
It was certainly novel. For better or worse.
Does this mean people can enter the game now? Like an online game?
The mentioned number was 128. Having played a Japanese MMORPG long ago with 64v64 battles, the figure felt eerily realistic. If that many crowded into one map, the most frequented city—probably Koun—would descend into chaos.
That alone gave ample reason to cooperate with Aiden. Peaceful play in the game had its own appeal, after all.
Four days from now, noon... that's what it said.
He first created new accounts: one sub-account for spreading fake rumors on SNS, and another for a large community he'd heard about but never used.
His task now was to post with these accounts, luring players to log in and gather at a specific spot four days from now at noon.
Sephirah had outlined the rough post content to draw crowds, so his role was simply to seed the rumor in Korean communities.
In the end, it's just clickbaiting people...
A crude method, but even one "chosen among the 128" showing up would be a big catch.
He decided to start with a post tailored to the unfamiliar community.
Not some art contest or BGM cover—I'm running a simple look-alike contest anyone can join.
I'll set a costume theme and location. Dress your character to match, upload a screenshot there.
Prefix titles with [CONTEST]. Even if it's well-dressed, no theme match or wrong location = DQ.
Judging: 50% recs, 50% my discretion. Thought about voting, but turnout would suck.
Prizes: 1st—two full-price games up to 70k won each. 2nd/3rd—Pride chicken each.
Dead game, low traffic, so to boost entries: theme/location drops in 4 days at noon. Hope for big turnout!
A player-run "contest" in the community to lure them in. Sephirah had suggested this before logging out, and he marveled at her ingenuity. Easy entry, tempting prizes—irresistible for a quick login. If real, he'd have spent three minutes on it himself.
Is the tone okay? Botch it and I'll get flamed...
With the draft done, he reviewed: Were the prizes enticing? Rules too hassle? Tone community-appropriate?
Grasping the feel for fakes here would help SNS posts too. Female-heavy spots might need tone tweaks.
Specific theme/location in four days at noo... oh.
Then he spotted a fatal flaw.
Aaaah, no. She's American, right? That's fourteen hours later here.
Realizing this, he hurriedly edited. US "four days noon" was Korea's "five days, 2 a.m."
Would idle folks reinstall an old game at 2 a.m. for it? Doubtful... but shut-ins exist.
"Huh?"
Something felt off. He groaned, realizing he'd overlooked an obvious issue.
Sephirah wouldn't have spoken Korean from the start.
Sephirah, already in-game, was American. They should've needed English, yet conversed freely. America had diverse tongues, sure, but she'd have reacted to the language match if so. Her vibe was just mild surprise at a "foreigner."
"I spoke Korean too."
It was so natural he'd missed it. NPC speech defaulted to Korean too. He'd been fixated on NPC vs. player binary.
But if other languages registered as perfect Korean here...
Then how did she understand?
Did Sephirah hear his words as English?
* * *
Around the same time, in-game.
Aiden waited for Hasselhoff, who'd said, "I'll step away for a bit and be back," leaving the other NPCs.
Loqi was, charitably, a "friend of a friend," so they kept distance, no chat.
"Got time for bread now, huh?"
Claire stuck by her sole acquaintance in this unfamiliar space. She'd just shoved fresh-off-the-shelf warm bread into Aiden's hand, half-forcing it.
Where does she even pull this from...?
No returning it, so he bit in. Crust wasn't tough as it looked—easy eating. Plain without sides, but who cared.
"Heh."
She beamed at his belated acceptance. But no taste check; she pivoted topics.
"Hey, mister, I've got a feeling."
"Yes, Claire?"
"Don't you think me and that kid over there are super lucky?"
She pointed: Loqi, alone, tossing trinkets playfully. Her other hand pointed at herself.
"No big incidents yet, hard to feel it... but even without me, you'd have been hunting players somewhere, right?"
"Tougher, but yeah."
"See? Even if I hadn't tailed you and knew zilch about players, you'd still be chasing them behind the scenes."
Aiden nodded. Claire continued, tone heavier.
"What I'm saying is... sounds selfish, but I'm glad it's me here."
More reasons lurked unspoken; she voiced one.
"Without me, you wouldn't know players exist. Then I'd be the clueless one dying."
"That's..."
"Right? Like folks wandering into woods, shredded by bears, none the wiser."
Claire pictured two villagers she'd treated hours ago. One, gut-stabbed, could only rasp dying breaths. The other, bludgeoned, body wrecked.
No villagers fit to help— they fled the commotion, eyeing the dying warily.
Not judging; no one blasts lightning back at bolts.
Luckily, Claire had lifesaving skills. Nun robes weren't for show.
But recalling their unresponsive mortal wounds, eyes meeting as she checked vitals...
At least it won't happen to me.
Selfish thoughts crept in.
"Everyone has dark thoughts... hiding them makes you 'good,' but this bugged me. Having them at all."
"No need to think that way..."
"I know. Really do."
Claire grinned sheepishly. Deep down, she knew: no deaths, she protected, issue resolved—no need for guilt.
Yet the unease lingered.
"Anyway, mister. You only told me about players so far."
"Yes."
"Time to spread the word everywhere, no?"
Her "...since there are more now" trailed too soft for Aiden.
But the intent was clear. Aiden partly agreed.
"After next event. Maybe later. Hard to believe."
"Spreading sooner cuts victims."
"Order doesn't matter—some won't buy it first time, big losses anyway. Just timing."
"...Yeah."
"Later talk."
Gloomy mood—not dissatisfaction, but topic's weight.
Alone, maybe different chat. But...
"Back."
Sephirah's return shattered it utterly.
"How'd it go?"
"What to say? Bait's out—wait and see what bites."
Yet she grinned, confident or optimistic. Perfect mood-changer.
"Anyway, stage is set somehow."
Sephirah briefed the trio's next steps.
"Let's prep to welcome the players."