What Does a Returnee Live For?

THE V-BOX's big selling point was that you could enjoy retro games in virtual reality.

Accordingly, the arcade had been designed to evoke that retro vibe with ruthless intensity—from the building's interior decorations to the lobby you saw upon logging in, right down to the massive connection pods shaped like old arcade cabinets.

Of course, the games themselves were no different.

Even if the controls and systems had been tweaked slightly to fit VR, the nostalgic feel you got from playing was pure retro through and through.

And retro games had one indispensable element.

An essential feature that had persisted from the coin-operated arcade days all the way to emulator conversions.

The ranking system.

That classic arcade staple—where players competed over clear times and high scores—was an absolute must-have for any retro game.

Or rather, it was more accurate to say that those ranking systems had spread to other games, spawning tiers, scores, and ranks galore. Stirring up that competitive drive was the very foundation of gaming.

And today...

Every single game in THE V-BOX had its top ranking overwritten.

"Huh? What's going on?"

"No way. All the rankings are changing!"

"Whoa, you could actually get scores like that?"

"Ranking massacre!"

As the name implied, classic games were teeming with ancient hardcore veterans—veterans whose scores were damn near impossible to beat.

Sure, these were VR reinterpretations of retro games, so the playstyle had changed and you might think there wouldn't be any old-timers... but.

VR had been around for over a decade now!

Ten years was more than enough time in the gaming world to churn out fossils rotten to the core. And THE V-BOX's games weren't exactly mainstream VR hits—they were the kind of niche titles only a dedicated few bothered with.

"Whoa, you can clear that in under 13 minutes?"

"Insane, a score of 470 billion...?"

"Argh! Is this new fossil some kind of monster?!"

Those records piled up by players so rotten they'd turned to oil were being toppled one after another by some no-name newbie.

Thus, every top spot across all the retro games in THE V-BOX fell to a user who hadn't even bothered naming themselves. As retro gamers clustered in the VR lobby, debating just who this mystery fossil could be...

"Whew."

"Your face looks brighter, ma'am. Did you enjoy the games?"

"Yeah. They were fun. Helped me sort out my thoughts, too."

"Sort out your thoughts?"

The 'fossil' behind those monstrous feats flashed a grin at her bodyguard, who was eyeing her with clear bewilderment.

"I just figured out what I'm gonna do from here on out."

David Kim had been leisurely savoring a vaping liquid that nailed the nutty richness of peanut butter slathered on toast from some New York brunch spot that opened early for lunch. A sudden bang bang bang jolted him upright, and he flung open the door.

"...Ma'am Seongwon?"

There stood a petite girl.

No—his employer, owner of assets in the trillions.

Seongwon gazed up at him with eyes like a cold blade under a new moon sky and stated matter-of-factly,

"Got something to talk about. Mind if I come in?"

"Uh, y-yes?"

As if she had no intention of waiting for an answer, she moved to slip right past him. David Kim couldn't quite hide his fluster.

Setting aside her arrogant single-mindedness, the room was currently a haze of vape smoke!

"W-wait just a sec. I've been vaping indoors, so the fog might bother you if you..."

"You doing drugs in here? Coke? Meth?"

Why'd her mind jump there?

At this point, his senses sharpened instead. Recalling that the girl before him was his employer, David Kim swiftly regained his composure and shook his head.

"Absolutely not. Nothing of the sort."

"Then it doesn't matter, right? Move aside."

With that, she darted past him. David Kim stared in disbelief at her audacity.

So as long as it's not drugs, she doesn't care...?

A dumb groan escaped him, but what could he do if his boss said it was fine?

More importantly, employer-employee relationship or not, did she have zero qualms barging into a guy's room? Especially one twenty years her senior?

...Who knows.

Better for his mental health not to dwell. With a queasy expression, David Kim shuffled toward the table.

"Oh, this room's pretty nice too. Got art on the walls and everything?"

There she was, appraising his room like a critic. Staying in the priciest penthouse suite of a five-star hotel, why eye a $750 room? He couldn't fathom it.

Didn't her suite have genuine modern art masterpieces? This was just generic graphic print.

Can't figure her out at all.

David Kim swallowed dryly as he watched Seongwon snap photos of the picture, giggling away.

David Kim was Korean-American.

As a second-generation immigrant, both his parents were Korean, so he'd absorbed Korean culture from childhood, knowingly or not. He prided himself on knowing it well.

But Seongwon defied any framework he could apply.

Neither through the Korean values drilled into him young, nor through an American lens.

She's like... from another world.

Spending days up close as her attendant, he'd gotten a rough read on this bizarre employer.

This girl was, well...

...royalty. Like royalty.

He'd felt something similar facing oil princes from Middle Eastern kingdoms back in the day. Those cheat-code holders of real-world oil power had carried themselves just like this.

No, even more so.

Sky-high pride without end.

Confidence overflowing enough to sway those around her.

And from the depths of her chest, an infinite wellspring of self-assurance so arrogant it bordered on the divine!

How she managed it, he couldn't say. As far as he knew, she was just some lucky lottery winner.

She might hail from Korean nobility, but given her grasp of economics, that seemed unlikely.

...Then again, that doesn't explain her rock-bottom life skills.

Who knew. He knew nothing.

Every time like this, David Kim couldn't help suspecting some predetermined fate at play—despite his utter disdain for determinism.

He let out a low sigh.

Lifting his head, he found his petite employer staring at him with eyes sparkling like the cosmos. David Kim hastily straightened up.

"S-sorry. I must've zoned out from fatigue and missed what you said. What was that again?"

"Nothing much? You didn't say anything. I could just tell your mind was off wandering somewhere."

Grateful for her tact, David Kim bowed with cold sweat beading. He'd been too distracted.

"I-is that so? My apologies."

But 'tell'? What does that mean?

"First off, status check. How's the secretary search going?"

Before the question could linger, Seongwon's query flew in. David Kim shoved aside stray thoughts and rattled off a mechanical reply.

"We're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trying a different approach for recruitment."

"Different how?"

"Yes. Piecing together what you've said, ma'am, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it seems you want someone handling secretarial duties plus overall life management—a sort of chief steward."

"Oh... chief steward."

Seongwon's eyes lit up at the word.

"So, I reached out to the Netherlands International Butler Academy and got a recommendation for a capable candidate."

"Ooh, International Butler Academy."

Her positive reaction to a perfectly ordinary answer eased his tension somehow, filling him with a subtle sense of accomplishment. David Kim continued more relaxedly.

"Since you mentioned planning to reside in Korea going forward, ma'am, I've arranged for the candidate to head there. You can interview in Korea. Personnel details are in this file here."

"Perfect. Stewards. Love it."

Seongwon plucked the documents from the envelope David handed her, folded them neatly without a glance, and stuffed them into the pocket of her Hawaiian shirt.

"I'll check these later and let you know. For now, the thing I came to talk about. I need a favor."

"A request, hm? Anything at all, just say the word."

Seongwon thrust her smartphone at him.

The screen showed a photo of a virtual reality pod—custom-tuned, judging by the non-standard design.

What now? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Just tossing a pic at me? But David Kim, Yale grad with a razor-sharp mind, grasped the context instantly.

Ah...

Anticipating unstated needs was a core skill for private bankers. As a pro, David Kim nodded.

"Got it. I'll line up a specialist VR tuning firm right away. This design work?"

"Pardon?"

Seongwon's brow furrowed. Naturally, a bead of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sweat formed on David Kim's forehead.

Wh-what? Did I misread?

The conversation had clearly been about VR tuning! Had elite financier that he was missed some nuance?

Just to check, David Kim ventured,

"...You mean acquire the tuning company, perhaps?"

Seongwon scowled and chided him.

"What are you on about? I need to buy this machine. Don't know how, so go get it for me."

"Ah."

Only then did David Kim remember.

His employer possessed life skills so catastrophically inept, 'ruinous' was the only word.

"...Understood. I'll order a high-end VR pod. Customization will require hands-on testing, so ship to Korea?"

"Yep. And since I need a new place in Korea anyway, handle that too. Oh, top-tier streaming gear, a team for broadcast advice..."

"Pardon? St-streaming? What do you...?"

David Kim's eyes widened at this fresh curveball as he stared at his employer.

She flashed a confident grin.

"I'm gonna be the world's top streamer."

What in the world...?

David Kim gave up thinking altogether.