Love in Virtual Reality

"What on earth are you doing?! Snap out of it, Elliot!"

Re-entering virtual reality, Elliot was met with Tom's roaring voice.

"Why did you say that! It's before the memories have fully settled! Damn it, everything is ruined!"

Noah was completely different from before. Her hair was disheveled, and she glared at Elliot with murderous eyes. The sweet, smiling, submissive heroine from the drama was gone.

It happened because Elliot had confessed the whole truth.

"You killed me!"

Every single word she uttered gouged Elliot's heart. And the source of those words was Elliot's own memories and subconscious.

In other words, the situation unfolding before him was a reenactment of his trauma. The shock of hearing those words from Noah—a creation of his own mind—would be doubled. Monitoring the situation from the real world, Tom hovered his hand over the emergency disconnect button several times.

"If you hadn't acted like that, I'd still be perfectly fine!"

"El-Elliot! Don't listen! That's just an illusion created by your guilt!"

"It's okay. Because she's right. Say whatever you want."

"Aaaaaaargh!"

Elliot threw his arms around the thrashing Noah. She struggled like a madwoman, trying to break free from his grasp. When her strength failed, she began to bite him. Even though it was virtual reality, the psychological impact brought tears streaming down Elliot's eyes.

"Let me go! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Noah..."

"You hypocritical bastard! You just wanted to feel better! That's why you made 'me'!"

"I'm... I'm sorry..."

Death, in whatever form it took, always planted guilt in the hearts of the living. Why didn't I treat her better? Why did I get angry back then? Those exact emotions were projected onto Noah.

"...Damn it, she's even achieved 'self-awareness'. This is bad."

In the real world, Tom bit his lip hard. Occasionally, an entity generated by the memory storage device would realize it was a fictional creation. Tom had already explained that dangerous situations usually followed such a state. At best, they would hurl verbal abuse, negatively affecting the user's psyche. At worst, they could cause a complete mental breakdown through the 'hallucination' of physical injury.

But there was nothing to be done. The man who had accepted everything was determined to endure it.

"Please, forgive yourself... Elliot," Tom muttered with a sorrowful expression, watching from outside the monitor as Elliot desperately held onto the struggling Noah.

Noah kept screaming, trying to escape. Ultimately unable to withstand her strength, Elliot lost his grip. Clutching his chest in agony, he chased after her.

The street, which had been peaceful just moments ago, began to warp in accordance with Elliot's psychological state. Flames erupted from nowhere, engulfing the entire street. Pristine structures dissolved into digital particles. Yet, Elliot paid no heed, relentlessly pursuing Noah.

As he followed her despite her screams to stay away, the street continued to vanish. Soon, nothing was left.

A completely white void.

"Sob, hic... ugh, uuuugh..."

Noah wept alone. Elliot approached her from behind and fell to his knees.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"..."

"I didn't want to forget you. That's why I tried so hard to drag you out of my fading memories. But that wasn't you. It was only a fragment of you."

"..."

"Still... that is the you I remember. The you... I loved."

Elliot's confession pierced through the audience. Stripping away his pride, he admitted that even if it was a distorted memory, this was his way of mourning her. His eyes and mouth opened. His expression showed that he had finally realized the truth through his own words.

Elliot only wanted to remember the good parts of Noah. Because he loved her that much. Because that love was an unchangeable truth. Memory worked in such an imperfect way, saving humans from a lonely existence.

"The harsh words we spat out in anger because life was too hard... none of them were real. And I think you felt the same. Because we are Elliot and Noah, aren't we? There's no way we could have truly hated each other."

It was a process of reclaiming and forgiving his decaying self. It was also a process of reaffirming the love of a woman who was already dead and gone.

The weeping Noah slowly turned around. With a tear-stained face, she looked at Elliot.

"There's... there's no way I could ever hate you."

"I love you, Noah."

"I love you too... Elliot."

And the two finally embraced.

It was an act of Elliot forgiving and accepting himself. At the same time, to the audience, it was a scene where the living Elliot and the deceased Noah finally reached an understanding. No matter how much they had once fought and hated, they truly loved each other.

The two held each other and cried for a long time. Resting her body against his, Noah whispered with the angelic smile Elliot remembered.

"Let today be the last."

"Noah..."

"The me inside you is saying so."

Watching them, Tom couldn't hide his shock.

"...It's a program error."

The program was giving up on itself? Something that couldn't be explained by logic was happening.

The theater was a sea of tears.

"Sniff... hic..."

A massive Black biker weighing 260 pounds, with an eight-cylinder engine tattooed on his right shoulder and a burning angel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on his left, was desperately holding back tears like an old pit bull getting a shot.

Right next to him, a neat-looking elderly white woman wiped her tears with a handkerchief, savoring the couple's final moments.

Darling, are you doing well? If only you had cut back on the cholesterol a bit...

The memory of letting go of a loved one. The experience of being forgiven by them. It was a moment everyone had either experienced or yearned for.

The final scene of Fragments of You, filmed at Crater Lake in Oregon, absolutely wrung the tears out of the audience.

Beautiful scenery, beautiful cinematography, beautiful music, and a beautiful leading couple. The poignant emotions between them flowed through the theater like a melody.

"Sion... is seriously insane..."

"Ha, how... how can someone be so handsome and pretty?"

"Even his crying face is a masterpiece..."

"I want to stand in the rain with Sion too."

Sion's female fans watched the movie with tears and snot running down their faces.

"..."

"Don't cry."

Even the nerds and cinephiles who had come to check out the heavily promoted CG technology forgot all about it. They pushed up their thick glasses and wiped away the tears streaming down their faces.

The lyrical soundtrack, softly playing alongside the sound of rain, sang lyrics about the sorrow of fading memories of a loved one.

Even so, until the end of my life, the fragments of you will live on inside me forever—

The final moment of the film.

The promised time arrived, and Elliot's virtual reality began to collapse.

"Don't worry. I'll always be inside you. Eat well. Don't put off doing the laundry just because it's a hassle. Exercise regularly. Go to the hospital right away if you're sick. Live happily. Live the rest of the life that I couldn't finish."

"No, Noah! No...!"

Sensing the second farewell, Elliot broke down. Noah left a parting kiss as if to comfort him.

The first kiss scene of the rising rookie, Elena Asimov.

Surprisingly, however, most of the audience was crying too hard to even process the external impact of the scene.

"I love you."

The Noah dwelling in Elliot's heart smiled shyly until the very last moment, slowly dissolving.

Becoming a beautiful light.

Left alone in the empty void, a single tear fell from Elliot's eye.

In America, the period from Christmas to New Year's was, without a doubt, a time to spend with family.

However, Sion, who had no family, spent it alone at home.

By the time he finished his overdue chores and sat on the living room sofa, it was six in the evening. He had ended up like this after spending about three months traveling across the country, doing broadcasts, interviews, and promotional events in densely populated cities.

It had been a long detour, but he was finally ready to welcome the New Year.

He found a pile of peanuts rolling around the house. He felt like a squirrel right before hibernation, but Sion was actually grateful even for this.

About a year and a half since his regression. He had run hard in one way or another.

You worked hard, me.

Patting himself on the back, Sion reflected on the results.

First of all, the Soviet Union had collapsed. Just as in the history he knew, it was December 26, 1991.

Inside the United States, a festive mood filled the air daily over the fact that the Cold War had finally, completely ended.

Because of this, a somewhat optimistic and romantic atmosphere filled the air, and perhaps thanks to that, the sci-fi romance film Fragments of You starring Sion was breaking box office records day after day.

Would things have gone this well in my original life ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if they had worked out?

Sion chuckled and spread out today's newspapers, which he had gone out to buy in the morning.

He was genuinely happy to be recognized for his acting by starring in such a wonderful film.

Of course, some media outlets only focused on their looks or the dating rumors between him and Elena, but that wasn't bad either. Sion still needed to star in various works to build his career and network, and for that, he wanted the public to 'consume' him enthusiastically in any way possible.

Because that's what I decided to do.

One relief was that Elena didn't seem too serious about him. Having been lucky enough to be born handsome and having dated a bit in his youth, there was no way he wouldn't notice when someone cared about him. So during this filming period, he did feel that Elena's dislike of him had transformed into a considerable amount of affection.

Hmm, I did do pretty well.

Normally, this could have escalated into a complicated situation...

But it stopped right there. It felt like she was keeping a line. After all, she has her goal of acting. She doesn't have the luxury to look elsewhere.

Thanks to this shoot, Sion felt like he had learned a thing or two from Elena. Not to mention her attitude toward acting, her ability to absorb and apply things was immense.

It wasn't that her raw caliber suddenly shot up, but rather that she instantly filled in the slightly lacking, empty spots. That kiss ad-lib really caught me off guard.

If geniuses truly existed, he felt to his bones that Elena Asimov was one of them. Someone who found joy in doing something easily and better than others, allowing them to excel even further. There were many complex definitions, but that was Sion's definition of a genius.

I don't know much about academics, but the arts are definitely like that.

Even if she was still clumsy as a Hollywood celebrity, when it came to acting, she wasn't easy to handle, even for an old, experienced man inside a teenager's body. Compared to her, he considered himself a mere mortal whose parents had blessed him with a handsome teenage body, miraculously ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠combined with forty years of experience from his past life.

Therefore, he thought the "deviation" that occurred between them during filming would likely be categorized by her as just a part of the "work" that would naturally continue into the future. In fact, he would be disappointed if she didn't take it that way.

I don't know when we'll work together again, but I hope she continues to show great acting in the future.

Smiling gently, Sion decided to happily watch the success of Fragments of You for the time being.

Yes. For now, I should enjoy this sense of accomplishment.

Though he didn't know how much of his talent would be displayed in the future, he resolved to do his best.

As he did, he suddenly felt as if the "Elliot" remaining inside him was about to pop out.

Mother, Father. I am just like Elliot.

He had once been broken by their deaths, but now he felt as if their fragments were moving forward with him inside. It felt especially so when he was resting alone at home like this after finishing a busy schedule.

But was it because he had lived as a "brat" for so long? This overwhelming silence was welcome. It could be used later when he took on a suitable role.

......He was lost in sentimentality when the phone rang.

[Be-be-be-beep! Be-be-be-beep!]

The phone on the table in front of the sofa rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Yi-siony? It's me. Charlie."

"It feels like it's been a while. So, what's up?"

"You haven't eaten dinner yet, right? I got a Kimchi delivery from Korea this time, and making Kimchi stew with it tastes absolutely killer. Ahhh...! Fuck yeah! So come over and eat! Oh, I have Soju too!"

"No thanks. I'm not feeling well today, so I'm going to rest."

"Huh? Really? Is it because you overexerted yourself until the day before yesterday? Are you okay? Should I buy some medicine and head over?"

"It's the end of the year. Go have fun with your family."

He replied lightly and hung up. A smile naturally formed on his face.

He won't even give me time to get sentimental.

Still, one thing he was grateful for was having a good person like Charlie Kang by his side.

Calling me at the end of the year to spend it together is probably because he knows I don't have anyone to spend it with.

But he had politely declined because he didn't want to awkwardly squeeze into a close-knit family and play the brat.

Leaving the phone, Sion leaned back on the sofa.

To be honest, I don't even really know what 'Kimchi soup' and 'Soju' taste like.

His Korean-American father had passed away early, and eating Korean food during his impoverished childhood was out of the question, so Sion hadn't really developed a taste for it.

Perhaps that was why he had fallen for the devilish, easily accessible taste of whipped cream.

Just as he was about to fall back into his memories, the phone rang again.

"I said I'm not eating..."

"Wh-what?"

It was a call from someone else. And completely unexpected.

"Elena?"

"Ah, yeah. It's me. Wh-what are you doing right now?"

Her voice sounded a bit distant. Was it just his imagination?

"What do you think? I'm planning to go out and party all night to celebrate the New Year."

"That's great. Then do you want to come to my house?"

"...?"

Sion couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion.

Me? At Elena's house? Why?

Only one answer came to mind.

"Is the freezer ready?"

"Wh-what does that mean! It's nothing like that, okay?!"

"Do you need a hostage for a protest against the collapse of the Soviet Union?"

"My family is American, okay?! Th-that's a completely discriminatory remark! You wicked Korean-American!"

"...Oh, you know I'm Korean-American? Interest. Troublesome."

Sion unexpectedly realized that Elena had been observing him closely.

"Anyway, just come!"

"How can I crash your family's intimate gathering? If it's a date, let's do it next time. I'll give you as many kisses as you want if you ask..."

"...Kisses? To my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠daughter?"

"............?"

In that instant, Sion felt his heart freeze. The voice was incredibly chilling.

1991. Ah, the era of analog romance. Back then, people used home landlines instead of cell phones. And those phones had a button called 'speakerphone' that let the sound play directly from the base. And when the other party used it, their voice sounded a bit distant.

Sion naturally imagined the scene.

A sofa belonging to the Russian family. In the middle of a bear-skin rug, a situation where the entire family was listening to this call with an AK-47 in hand.

"Sion, this is Olga Asimov. Is this our first time speaking like this?"

"...I've heard a lot about you. I've also watched many of your works. It's an honor."

"If you have nothing to do, why don't you come to our house? We have Borscht and Vodka."

"..."

Kimchi soup and Soju, and Borscht and Vodka. It seemed today was a day he had to have the latter.