Crossroads (2)

Luce. Ga-yoon had a stubborn streak.

It wasn't as if anything was wrong with my left leg. I'd just fallen once.

And yet she insisted on dragging me all the way back to the clinic's treatment room to handle it herself.

Something soft and damp as cotton touched my skin.

I flinched as if a current had run through my body, and a strange little sound slipped out of my mouth.

"Ah—!"

"I'm sorry. Your skin is so delicate, and now it's scraped up like this. It'll sting again for a second."

"I really am fine… ngh!"

People fall. It happens. A few minor scrapes heal just fine if you leave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them alone. But Ga-yoon fretted over me as if something terrible had happened.

The cotton was as cool and damp as before, but not too sharp. She wiped carefully around the wound. She seemed to be sticking something on as well, though I couldn't see it from my angle.

"I'll pack you a spare. Just put a fresh one on after you shower."

"Thank… you."

"Don't mention it. You got hurt because of my kid, after all."

For a moment, Luce's eyes drifted to the nape of my neck.

My bare skin was reflected in those dark pupils.

The weather had been getting warmer lately. Even I couldn't wrap myself up completely anymore, so I'd started wearing clothes that left a little of my neck and collarbones exposed. Luckily, I hadn't left any marks or anything.

Still—she was staring for quite a while.

Sticky, maybe? There was nothing unpleasant in it, nothing like ill intent. But I'd spent a long time alone. Having someone's gaze fixed on me for that long was still a lot to take.

And Luce was someone I looked up to. The way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she seemed to see straight through me left me feeling stripped bare.

"Um… is there something on my neck?"

"Ah! Sorry. I was just thinking how lovely your neckline is. And your skin is so clear."

"Thank you…"

As if Luce herself didn't have excellent skin. She wore her makeup light, and somehow that only made her look cleaner—the kind of complexion that came from years of careful upkeep.

Anyway, the treatment was done. Time to head back.

I reached for the backpack I'd brought, and something clinked inside.

An uneasy premonition flickered through my mind. Good thoughts always miss the mark; bad ones land with perfect accuracy.

I opened the bag, and the accident I'd already braced for was waiting.

"Ah."

"What is it?"

"The… the glass bottle broke."

It was the glass bottle I'd picked up at the convenience store. It must have shattered inside the bag when I fell. Shards of glass and a few leftover drops of milk had made a complete mess of it.

Losing a little keepsake like that left me feeling oddly down.

As for the bag… I could at least shake the pieces out here. Once I got home and cleaned it properly, it'd be usable again.

I took out my wallet, the important papers, and the prescribed medication, then turned the bag upside down. I wasn't the type to haul a mountain of stuff around, so there wasn't much to empty. Over the trash can I shook it hard—tap-tap-tap-tap—until glittering glass dust poured out.

Luce, who had been quietly helping me clean up, suddenly went still.

"Clonazepam?"

"Ah… I don't take it regularly. I just got it prescribed this time."

"I see. You're going to keep getting better, Daeun. I'll be rooting for you."

Being cheered on felt good, of course. I was going to do everything I could to become someone like her.

"Come to think of it… this glass bottle. You really like Infinity Black, don't you?"

"Yeah. It's fun. And congratulations on winning the opening match."

"Thanks. What class are you playing, by the way?"

"Ah, um. Mage. I'm running a Flamecaster."

The lie pricked at my conscience. Still, answering "Assassin" was never an option. If I went that far, Luce might start overlaying me with Gawol.

My build and Gawol's matched almost perfectly, and so did our voices. If the mic on my connector didn't have that slight reverb to it—or if the hardware itself weren't so solid—I would have been found out ages ago.

Honestly… part of me almost didn't care if she found out. But Luce was such a straightforward person that the thought still scared me a little. If that kind face ever looked at me with contempt, it would hurt too much.

"Actually—thank you so much for the gift last time. I already said it over text, but I really wanted to thank you again in person."

"Heh. I worried I might've sent it too out of the blue. I'm glad it helped!"

"You can pretend you didn't hear this, but… once my body gets a little better. And once the league wraps up and you have some free time…"

Meeting her eyes was suddenly too embarrassing. Conveniently, the email had just come in, so I fussed with my phone. Dropping my head a little made it feel like my real thoughts were safely hidden.

It was probably just an ad. Or one of those endless notices about personal data handling. Most personal information belonging to Korean citizens wasn't worth much anyway. Names and resident registration numbers got traded by the hundreds of thousands—sometimes millions—for next to nothing. I figured I'd glance at it and shut the screen.

That was the plan, at least.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing."

My grip went slack. The phone slipped from my hand. I barely managed to pick it up again and kill the display.

"…?"

"I, uh—something urgent came up. Would it be all right if I headed back now?"

"I'll give you a ride. Where are you going?"

"I'm fine. Really, I'm fine… I want to go home alone today."

It felt like my breath had been cut off at the throat.

At the empty bus stop, I kept tilting my phone screen this way and that for no good reason. The message was full of difficult language, but in my head it all collapsed into a single sentence.

I might not be able to play on my connector anymore.

The part about the logs was fine. I'd only used a machine that hadn't been commercialized. I had never once run a shameful hack. Unless there was some problem I didn't know about, that side of things would be all right.

The real issue was the Sensory Synchronization Rate—pushing close to seventy percent.

Some people believed Sensory Synchronization Rate was tied to reaction speed, but that was wrong. If a character and a brain communicate through electrical signals, Sensory Synchronization Rate is closer to the strength of the signal. Reaction speed belongs to the domain of time—how long the signal takes to arrive. Tap your knee lightly and your leg moves; as long as a certain threshold of strength is met, reaction speed itself barely changes.

A high-sync connector wasn't a special tool so much as… a rack built to punish me.

So the moment the conversation shifted to "safety," things got ugly.

The first day I died, I was in so much ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pain outside the connector that I ended up in the hospital—even though I'd died cleanly at a low level. I even got stuck with an embarrassing misunderstanding for my trouble.

Common sense said a machine like this couldn't be safe. What if one day I slipped up and took a hit to my left leg? I couldn't even promise myself I'd hold out.

It was also why brainwave-based connectors had been abandoned in the current market.

But… what choice did I have? It wasn't like I used this thing because I wanted to. Because this damned leg wouldn't move. Because this was the only way I could fully execute every motion I wanted to make.

"Is anyone… is anyone there?"

As if possessed, I flipped through my phone. At some point I'd hysterically wiped my contacts clean, so only a handful of names remained.

Mom. Dad. Master. Luce. BoozeBread. MountainBird. Elderin. Gokturk.

Not Luce. I didn't want to dump this kind of worry on my idol. I wanted to stand in front of her only when I could stand tall.

For similar reasons, Master was out too. I didn't want to pile more weight on someone who had already sacrificed enough for me.

My already short list of candidates had just lost two. There weren't many people left. BoozeBread was busy, and Gokturk and MountainBird both had work.

My head skipped past judgment and dialed Elderin.

"Uh, unnie. I'm sorry to call out of nowhere. It's just… I didn't have anyone else to call."

"Could you… meet me right now? I know it's sudden, but… I mean—ugh. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll just hang—"