Synchronization

"...Wow."

"...You really made her beautifully."

Kim Won-gang and I both lost our words at the same time, staring at the character's appearance for a good while. I hadn't expected it to turn out this pretty while I was making her—I was shocked, but at the same time, I felt great that she'd come out so gorgeous.

As I sat there, entranced by the screen, Kim Won-gang glanced at me cautiously and spoke up.

"...For now, I'll send this custom character file to your email."

His words snapped me out of it.

"Oh, yeah... That'd be great. Thanks."

"Sure. It's getting late—do you need to head out?"

I checked the clock in surprise and saw it was already past 9 p.m. Well, yeah—we'd spent four or five hours just on beta feedback, plus an hour and a half on character creation... No wonder time had flown by.

"...Oh, right, I should go. Thank you so much. I was really serious about this custom character... Truly, thank you."

"No, no. Technically, this isn't even part of the rewards... Oh, by the way, is there anything else you want? Doesn't have to be game-related. Money or whatever..."

"No, no! Money? This is more than enough for me."

"...Got it. Since there's nothing specific, we'll just go with this then..."

"Huh? Go with what?"

"Nothing. Some people have wishes they can't voice out loud, after all."

"..?"

What the heck did that mean? A question mark popped up over my head for a second, but I decided not to dwell on it.

"Ah. Well, let me explain the in-game rewards then..."

With that, Director Kim Won-gang started outlining the rewards that would be added to my account. As mentioned at the showcase, resources from Season 1—like levels, gear, and currency—would convert proportionally. But for me, the one and only player who'd maxed out every single job, the rewards were naturally overwhelming.

"First off, ten 30-minute EXP coupons—ones we won't be supplying for a while. A full set of special growth gear, a Legendary Avatar selection ticket releasing with Season 2 launch, and various materials for gear refinement."

I gaped at him, my face frozen in a dumb expression, just staring at Director Kim Won-gang—or should I say, Light Won-gang Director? ...He seemed to be glowing brighter than usual today.

"Honestly, we think even this isn't enough, but giving more could cause inflation or balance issues... So please understand we can't offer beyond this."

"N-no! This is plenty!"

"Oh, and one more thing. Come by headquarters later, and we'll make you another avatar in any design you want. You can decide then whether to sell it or not."

My lips twitched upward uncontrollably, creeping toward my ears. I tried to force them down, but it just made my face look ridiculous. Giving up, I grinned wide and grabbed Kim Won-gang's hand.

"Thank you so much. I had no idea the rewards would be this generous."

"No, it's nothing. I'm just giving you what's fair... for saving our world multiple times."

Our world? It's the real world, dude, I thought, but I guess it showed how passionate he was about his game. I let go of his hand, still smiling.

"Yeah. It's almost 10 already. I'll head home now. You get off early too, Director."

"Nah, I've got overtime ahead fixing all the feedback notes. Anyway, good work today—rest up when you get home."

With that, I left the company and headed home. The office ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fell silent behind me, and Kim Won-gang, left alone in the director's office, murmured softly.

"That unvoiced wish... I guess I should make it come true."

I got home humming a tune, showered, and climbed into the capsule. The beta version was playable from home too. It was restricted to specific accounts, so you could join online, not just offline.

Grabbing my dev notes, I dove back into the game. Beta lasted four days. And until full Season 2 launch... factoring in feedback implementation, about a month, I figured.

I kept writing nonstop to make the perfect Lost World comeback.

Four days later, beta ended. I opened the messenger app, pulled up the group chat, and started sharing my beta impressions.

I answered their barrage of questions one by one, a smile creeping onto my face.

"It's... reviving again."

The topic naturally shifted to her with her entrance. Thrilled, I tapped away at my phone.

Whoa... what is this momentum? These people were all total social butterflies or something? It hit me why the chat energy was always so high.

These people... maybe it'd be okay.Maybe they won't see me as anything weird.

Steeling myself, I typed.

Their enthusiastic response surprised me, but it warmed my heart even more. People like this are waiting for me.The world I know isn't the whole world.

Yeah. Time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to step forward with courage.

With that thought, I drifted off to sleep.

...No nightmares tonight, for once.

Days passed with beta servers down—League of Champs and part-time gigs. A month later, one day before Lost World Season 2 launch, my phone alarm blared. I checked it.

This guy has time to text the day before server open? Still, I replied politely.

...None. I'd quit my job yesterday for Season 2 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠launch.

Suspicious points galore, but just login and char creation? No biggie. I'd cleared my whole day anyway.

I hopped in the capsule, fired up Lost World, and hit the game start button—previously "maintenance." The revamped UI dazzled my eyes; quality upgrade hit even from the start screen.

Downloaded my masterpiece from email, slotted the file. Yellow light on preset, and there she was—same stunning character as before. Long silver hair, amethyst-purple eyes like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠embedded gems. Slightly upturned eyes exuding aloof maturity, perfect hourglass figure...

I admired her a bit, then filled in the nickname blank.

'Noel'

Director ditching for launch? But overseas servers needed him—I'd be magnanimous.

I hit character creation. Confirmed the popup after. Screen cut out, game closed—and my consciousness blacked with it.

As the game shut down, golden text slowly scrolled in the pitch-black capsule—but Kim Juwon, already unconscious, couldn't read it.

A pure white light enveloped his limp body. Gradually, it transformed—not into anything else, but the witch he'd customized.

Thus, he—no, she—regained consciousness 15 hours later, as Lost World Season 2 launched, amid unfamiliar sensations.

"What the fuck."