The Trial, Part II

"Huh?"

For a moment, my thoughts ground to a halt.

The sound of a car horn pierced the silence. My mouth felt dry and pasty, as if I had slept for an eternity. I tried wiggling my fingers. They moved perfectly. Next, I turned my head to check the digital clock on the desk. It read 3:25. Having been away for so long, the concepts of AM and PM felt momentarily confusing, but judging by the warm sunlight streaming in, it had to be the afternoon.

"Damn it."

My voice was incredibly raspy. Muttering the curse unconsciously, I forced my body up with great effort. My limbs felt stiff and heavy, aching from a long period of inactivity.

Clatter.

In the process, I bumped into a chicken bucket sitting by the bedside. Before I could catch it, the bucket tumbled and flipped upside down onto the floor. Cigarette butts and ashes spilled out of it.

"Sigh..."

I didn't even have the energy to clean it up right now. There was something far more important to address. Assessing my current situation took priority. My original body, which I hadn't inhabited in ages. The stuffy air of my cramped room. Feeling these familiar sensations, a realization washed over me.

Am I back?

My eyes caught a soju bottle with about a third of its contents remaining. I picked it up and took a sip. It was lukewarm and bitter. It was far too realistic to be a dream. No, perhaps that was only natural. This was reality, after all. If anything, it was the other world that had felt too real.

But what on earth had happened? Did I get bitten by a wolf while walking through the desert... or did I push myself too hard and collapse? Only one thing was certain. It seemed I had died in that other world.

I choked back a hollow laugh. It was that easy? All I had to do was die to come back?

"Ha... Haha..."

I couldn't stop the dry laughter bubbling up. I downed the rest of the alcohol.

"Fuck."

Then what was the point of all that suffering? Fighting wolves, trekking through the desert, making a deal with Gwen...

...Come to think of it, I had forgotten about my deal with Gwen. Seeing how she had entered the Trial without even asking me for the location of the holy relic, she must have temporarily forgotten as well. But even that didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered now.

Actually, this was a familiar feeling. After all, Hundred Braves was that kind of game. A roguelike. A genre where dying once meant losing everything and starting over from scratch. Perhaps that was why this hollow sensation felt so familiar. Yet, despite its familiarity... it was somehow unbearable.

"To go back..."

I shook my head.

"I finally made it back, though."

I dragged myself out of bed and sat in front of my computer. I typed in my password and launched a game out of habit. It was a team-based MOBA game I used to play all the time. There was nothing better to pass the time when you had nothing else to do.

And it's pretty fun in its own way.

I clicked 'Yes'. The reason was simple: it wasn't fun.

My team is so trash.

Come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to think of it, it had never been that fun of a game to begin with.

After closing the game, I browsed MeTube and watched a few videos before feeling a pang of hunger. Come to think of it, the food in that other world tasted awful. I felt a sudden wave of anticipation at the thought of eating modern food again. Opening a delivery app, I spent a few minutes agonizing over the options before finally ordering a whole chicken.

"...It's good."

Of course it was. There was no way chicken wouldn't taste good. Yet, something felt off. My stomach was full, but no matter how much I ate, the hunger inside me remained unappeased. Forcing down a piece of dry breast meat, I set the box aside. A half-eaten chicken box. An empty soju bottle. Spilled cigarette ash.

"What a complete mess."

I opened the drawer next to the computer. Inside was a thick envelope. I pulled it out and placed it on the desk.

I have a pretty good idea of what's inside.

Just as I was about to leave the room, I spotted my smartphone tossed onto the bed. I turned on the screen, but there were no meaningful messages, only a clutter of random notifications. Then again, it wasn't like I had anyone who would contact me. Naturally, the battery was barely charged. Since I had been playing mobile games almost exclusively on PC emulators lately, I rarely had any use for my phone.

Should I leave it behind?

After a brief hesitation, I picked up the phone and slipped it into my pocket. Then, I hoisted myself onto the wheelchair parked in the corner of the room. I rolled out, closed the door, and took one last look back.

Since it's the end, maybe I should have cleaned up a bit.

Strange. This world is strange. Actually, it had always been this way. The people passing by on the streets. The cars rushing frantically back and forth. Were they really sharing the same world as me? I kept moving through the concrete jungle, a city no different from a barren desert. After rolling the wheels of my wheelchair for what felt like an eternity, I finally reached my destination. Having a clear destination was another way this place differed from the desert—even if that destination wasn't an oasis or the edge of the sands, but the pitch-black waters of the Han River churning far below.

It feels a bit hollow.

If I had any regrets, it was him. Alan Flake, that pathetic piece of trash. I wanted to turn him into a Hero and see the ending. One hundred playthroughs. That was the limit I had originally set for myself. I had resolved to give up if I couldn't make Alan Flake a Hero by my hundredth attempt. And the moment I blew that hundredth run, the opportunity had presented itself. The absolute best chance I could have ever asked for. Yet, in the end, I had squandered that opportunity too. Now, it was truly over. I failed to make Alan Flake a Hero. I... couldn't do anything.

I guess it's time to end it.

I had dragged this out for far too long. Pointlessly. Even though I was utterly powerless.

I rolled my wheelchair forward. Now that I was actually here, the bridge's railing was higher than I expected. Still, if I used enough upper body strength, I could probably hoist myself over. Just as I gripped the railing with both hands, a sudden vibration buzzed in my pocket.

What is it?

I pulled the phone from my pocket. There shouldn't be anyone calling or texting me. After swiping away a low battery warning, I saw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a message on the screen.

I sent a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reply.

The reply came instantly.

What could this mean? Half-skeptical, I launched Hundred Braves from the desktop. After a brief loading screen, a prompt popped up on the screen.

At that moment, it hit me. Alan Flake was still alive inside the game.

It's not over yet?

But no matter how many times I clicked 'Yes', the game wouldn't resume. Just as I was about to close and restart the game, another text arrived.

I quickly shot a text back.

I hurriedly typed my reply.

Turning him into a Hero was a way to prove myself. Unless I achieved that proof, my existence here had absolutely no value. But before I could even send my next message, another text popped up.

Yes, Hundred Braves was just a game. And once, I had desperately tried to prove something through a mere game. But I knew better now. The people I met there were all real. Especially...

I still haven't kept my promise to Gwen.

I had to tell her the location of the holy relic. I pictured Gwen fighting off the golems to protect me. Since she had helped me, I wanted to keep my word.

A moment later, the phone buzzed. This reply was slightly delayed.

His words made me recall the situation I had been in. I had lost all will to even reach the next sand dune. Wolves were closing in on me from all sides. Even if I went back, would I really be able to stand up? Even if I stood up, could I make it to the next dune? Nothing was certain. But going back was the priority.

Once again, before I could even finish typing, the reply came.

The mocking tone irritated me slightly.

With that, my vision began to warp once more. The Han River vanished from sight, and I found myself standing before a plain white wall.

What is this? More importantly...

I looked down at my legs. They were completely healed. And I was wearing my high school uniform trousers. Only then did I realize where I was.

Is this school?

No wonder it felt familiar. I was standing in the hallway of my old high ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠school. It felt as though my body had reverted to that time as well.

Did I travel back in time?

The sudden shift left me utterly bewildered. It felt as though someone was completely playing with me. Just as I was about to demand answers through the smartphone still in my hand, a quiet voice drifted from behind.

"Regarding student Sung Yu-rang..."

I turned around and saw a door labeled 'Staff Room'. Sung Yu-rang... that was my name.

"He failed to place in this tournament as well. He doesn't seem to be lacking in any area, so I wonder why..."

I vividly remembered this conversation.

Of all things... why this memory?

I wanted nothing more than to fling the staff room door open and scream, but my body refused to move. Meanwhile, the conversation inside continued.

"In my opinion, it would be better to switch him to long-distance. The middle-distance running he's doing now relies too heavily on innate talent."

"Coach Jo. As an educator, using the word 'talent' is a bit..."

"This is my judgment as the track and field coach, not an educator. And you cannot deny the existence of talent in sports."

I suddenly realized my fists were clenched tight. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that they were on the verge of drawing blood. Oblivious to my distress, they carried on.

"If we cannot deny the existence of talent, does he have talent for long-distance?"

"That remains to be seen. But looking at Sung Yu-rang's sheer volume of practice and his sheer willpower, there is definitely potential."

"Very well... I will leave it in your hands, Coach."

The conversation ended, and I heard the sound of them standing up. The shuffling of slippers drew closer, and the moment the door swung open...

My perspective shifted once more. Instantly, my intuition screamed a warning. No. Not this memory. Anything but this.

"Damn it."

I was sitting in a wheelchair.