I Became an NPC

If you play enough games, sooner or later you run into NPCs in the supporting role — the kind that lend a hand during hunts and boss fights.

Of course, if such NPCs were too strong, the game's difficulty would fall apart, so most of them come with just enough intelligence to function and just enough damage output to scratch a boss.

In some cases, they actually do the opposite — raising the difficulty of a boss fight without contributing so much as a shred of help.

Simply put, unless they're tied to some specific mechanic, these supporting NPCs are the kind of existence players barely spare a second glance for. Utterly ignorable.

"Huh? There's an NPC here too?"

And apparently, I've become exactly that kind of supporting NPC.

The change came without warning.

Another day of cleaning up after my boss at a shit-tier company that treated human beings like spare parts, and I hadn't dragged myself home until nearly midnight.

The thought of having to go back to that hellhole tomorrow made my blood boil — and mixed with the bitter realization that without even that job, I couldn't make a living — I collapsed onto my bed.

The one silver lining was that in just a few days, a game I'd been waiting years for would finally launch. A full-dive virtual reality game, the kind you'd only ever see in manga or anime. That single fact alone was what kept me slogging through each miserable day.

Reading the garbage posts piling up on the community boards was how I bleached a little of the work stress out of my brain.

"…Time to sleep."

Exhaustion pressed down on my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entire body, and I drifted off slowly.

And when I opened my eyes again…

"Where the hell am I."

Han Siwoo, twenty-five years old. When I came to, I was lying in the depths of a pitch-black cave, lit only by a faint, distant glow.

"Ah, right. That happened."

I paused for a moment, dredging up the past — the memory of my first day in this godforsaken cave.

At first, I assumed some lunatic had kidnapped me and dumped me in this remote hole in the ground.

But it was only after running into the unidentified monsters prowling the tunnels that I realized this place wasn't the world I'd grown up in.

Green-skinned runts croaking 'Krek, gruk' at each other. The bipedal furballs the internet liked to call 'furries.' Goblins and kobolds — the staples any gamer would recognize on sight — and on top of those, every manner of monster that made my skin crawl just from looking at it.

If it hadn't been for the armor and swords stripped off the corpses scattered through the cave, I would have died long ago.

And so I clawed my way through survival, day after miserable day. Three years now.

I still haven't found the exit to this cave.

If this is a fantasy world, then this cave is probably some kind of dungeon. Which means an exit has to exist. And yet, bizarrely, in the three years I've spent wandering these tunnels, I haven't found an exit — or even a passage that merely looked like one.

What's more, aside from the corpses I stumbled across back in the early days, no newcomers have ever appeared in this cave either.

"So there really is no exit, huh."

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cave with no exit. Whoever built this world, they did one hell of a shit job on the map design.

That said, I had no intention of giving up on everything and lying down to die for the monsters' convenience.

Monster meat, which I'd found too repulsive to eat at first, had become tolerable enough by now — and honestly? I'd say it beat working at that shit company.

Maybe three years of cave living has scrambled my brain, but there's something about hunting monsters and feeling myself get stronger that fills me with this… exhilaration, I guess you'd call it.

Besides, the cave isn't all bad. When I got sick of hacking down the same old enemies, I could follow the stairs down to the next floor and a whole new roster of monsters would be there to greet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me.

Unfortunately, once I'd descended a certain distance, the stairs kept appearing but for some reason I could go no further down. Even so, that sensation of growing stronger never lost its thrill.

"Krek! Grruk!!"

So there I was, knocking down the goblins that came lunging at me as usual, passing the time —

A notification window popped up right before my eyes.

More importantly — Arcadia Online?

This place… is the world of that game I wanted so desperately to play?

"Inventory?"

It's not that I don't know what an inventory is. When I first fell into this cave, I searched for a status window, an inventory, shouted every command I could think of.

But back then, nothing responded.

And now, suddenly, I'm being given an inventory?

"Would've been nice to have it from the start, you know."

There's a whole pile of things I tearfully abandoned on the cave floor for lack of a pack to carry them in.

Well… fine. Be grateful for what you get. Since it's come to this, I'll just clear out every monster in the area, loot whatever's worth selling, and walk right out of this cave.

By the way — how do I actually open this inventory?

"Inventory."

No response. Wondering if I'd done something wrong, I tried calling it other ways…

"Pack? Bag? Item storage? Ugh… what is it."

Nothing. Dead silence, same as before.

Convinced there had to be some special method, I patted at my pockets, even stuffed a few items inside them — stone-cold indifference.

And then—

Amid a torrent of error messages, nearly every system function went dark.

All that remained was a single gallery button — the community for new adventurers.

"…Why is this bullshit happening only to me. You bastards…"

There are few acts more malicious than giving something and then snatching it back. Granted, it feels like I never actually received it in the first place — but it still feels like theft, damn it.

"Haa… Let's check the community first. See if anyone's having the same problem I am."

And if nobody is, I can always write a post and ask.

So, quietly tamping down the surge of irritation, I pressed the only usable button — the gallery.

Everything from utter shitposts to a few informative threads and question posts, all lined up in a feed.

But no user suffering the same problem as me — not a single thread about an inventory that won't open, or a game-breaking bug.

…Well, I am a special case. Show me another person who got transmigrated into the game days before its release.

"…Huh?"

Come to think of it — the game launch was only days away, and yet I'd spent close to three years in this place.

It's not like I have an exact count, but I kept track by hunting the monsters that spawned once a day, one by one, so my estimate should be roughly right.

Which means…

"…Of course. No way game time and real time flow at the same rate."

Apparently, I'm not here as a player.

"…Post on the community first, then."

On the off chance someone else out there fell into this game the way I did.

With that thought, I slowly reached for the new-post button on the gallery.

"Bullshit."

Is the universe seriously stacking the deck against me and me alone?

Can't use the game systems. Can't post on the gallery. Can't even comment.

All I'm allowed to do is read.

At this point, my only option is to wait until some player wanders into this cave and finds me.

The problem is, I don't know where the entrance is.

I woke up in the middle of the cave — there's no way I'd know the way in.

The only place I could even guess at was the spot where I'd first opened my eyes.

One saving grace, though: Arcadia Online is a game about conquering a dungeon that burrows deep underground.

Which means every single player who starts this game has no choice but to come through this cave.

"Okay. Time to move."

"Heeheeh… it's so biiiig!"

Seo Arin, who had logged in mere minutes ago, looked around her with a giddy grin plastered across her face.

For someone who loved games as much as she did, seeing a game world with her own two eyes — even in virtual reality — was pure, unfiltered joy.

- It sure is

"The sword feels real too. Mmm… I heard if your character gets hurt, the pain carries over to you, so… owy!"

Poking the top of her own foot repeatedly with the sword from her starter package, Seo Arin promptly felt a sharp sting bloom from the spot she'd pricked.

Granted, only because she'd already cranked down every pain-related setting in advance — it wasn't that bad.

"Heeheehee. It really does sting!"

Delighting even in a pain this trivial, Seo Arin soon found herself at the entrance of the dungeon.

"Hmm… my friends told me to party up and play together, but… just a little taste couldn't hurt, right!"

Thinking of her friends, still busy customizing their characters, she carefully stepped into the dungeon.

A faint sensation of floating, and then her vision went dark. When the weightlessness faded and solid ground returned beneath her feet, Seo Arin slowly opened her eyes.

"…Huh?"

And what appeared in her line of sight was—

"…"

The players who had entered before her, sprawled unconscious across the ground.