I Won a 100x EXP Server

When you're a jobless bum at thirty, people start giving you looks.

"Ahem. Go wash up. Shave that face. How long are you going to sit in your room playing games?"

"Dad. When you're born with a silver spoon and your parents are still around to support you, that's exactly when you should be padding your resume. Your son's working hard so he can make it big someday — please believe in me and keep the support coming."

"That's bullshit, Dad. Just kick him out. This guy's a lost cause, if you ask me."

"Yerin. Don't talk to your brother like that."

"Mom's the real problem here. You baby him every single day, so he never gets his act together and just leeches off this family."

They owned a 1,400-square-foot apartment right in the heart of Seoul. A capable father who was a corporate executive, diligently pulling in stable returns from stock investments on top of his salary. A mother who was pretty, domestic, and kind to boot. The household's only real defect was an eight-years-younger little sister whose personality was so foul she'd never get married — and I'd managed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hang on in this house for a very long time.

Mom was still stuck on as long as he's healthy, but Dad's assaults were getting more brutal by the day, and my sister's needling was fanning those flames higher and higher.

When Dad said he'd do something, he did it.

Even so, he'd given me a chance through my early twenties, promising he'd wait until I turned thirty — a generous, gold-standard promise from a well-earning father, a man whose word was worth its weight in gold. I'd hung on and hung on, but now I could feel the real deadline closing in.

"I'll let it slide until your birthday, since I already said I would. After that, no mercy. Move out. Pay rent like Yerin does."

"That's right, that's right. He who does not work, neither shall he eat!"

"…"

That rotten little bitch.

I wanted to pinch that smug mouth of hers right then and there, but this was the time to keep my head down.

"Yes, Father. Thank you for giving birth to me in December."

"Aigoo."

I'd look for every opening I could get. The thought that I only had a few months left suddenly killed my appetite.

"You still managed to wolf down everything even while getting an earful?"

"Thanks for the meal."

I let Kim Yerin's snide remarks — my eight-years-younger little sister with absolutely zero manners — go in one ear and out the other, scooped up the last spoonful, and stood from the table. Then I casually started massaging Dad's shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Father. With only a few months left, your son wants to make one last attempt before going independent. If you could spare a little allowance…"

"…"

"You're shameless. So shameless."

"Take it. Just take it. Empty the wallet if you want."

"Thank you."

December's problems were a problem for December. Naturally, I had no intention of getting kicked out this helplessly. For now, I had to cling on with everything I had.

I pulled four 50,000-won bills from Dad's wallet sitting next to the TV and went back to my room.

"Hah. Yeah. I can't keep living like a parasite in this house forever."

Of course, what I'd told Dad wasn't entirely a lie. I wanted to live a life where I spent my own money like water, flexing on everyone around me. The opportunity just hadn't come my way.

I wasn't even asking to wake up from a nap, awaken, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and reverse my entire life with some lucky, overpowered ability. If I could just be on Kim Yerin's level — she'd awakened a C-class exploration skill as a twentieth birthday present, joined a major guild, and was already raking in tens of millions of won.

"Just give me one decent ability. I'll grind like a dog, I swear."

I made the same resolution I always did and lay down on the bed. A full stomach and a horizontal position — sleep came easily. I closed my eyes without resistance and surrendered to the drowsiness washing over me.

And when I opened them again.

My birthday was still a ways off, but a present had already arrived.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Fingers trembling with a tightness in my chest that felt like I might stop breathing, I rushed to post on the Hunter Gallery.

A small part of me worried that even among the endless garbage posts I dumped on there every day, this one might get me identified and dragged off somewhere — but I didn't have a choice.

"No status window, either. This is weird."

The golden rule of confirming an awakening — the incantation of shouting Status Window! — was already a bust.

That said, it wasn't like I hadn't awakened at all. Messages — the exclusive domain of hunters — were writing themselves in midair, so I had definitely awakened. The easiest and most reliable way to confirm it would have been to open the door and find a hunter, but I decided to ask the gallery instead. A little more trustworthy, in its own way.

A site with hundreds, even thousands of unique visitors. Comments landed on my post almost immediately.

"…Fucking bastards."

I knew half of them were losers rotting in envy and jealousy, but the other half — the ones just there to mock and pile on — managed to get under even my skin, and I was a twenty-year gallery veteran. I almost typed out a reply without thinking. I caught myself mid-keystroke, about to plead that it was real, that what I was looking at was actually happening, and yanked my hands off the keyboard.

Nothing wasted a life on a community faster than burning emotional calories on faceless strangers. I was already one of the thirty-year-olds who'd wasted his life doing absolutely nothing — but the emptiness that came after, I'd already lived through in my twenties. A battle-hardened gallery veteran, through and through.

It wasn't like I'd posted expecting a good answer anyway. I'd just hoped, maybe, that one comment might soothe this restless feeling in my chest.

I carefully reached out and tapped the only entry on the server list — the 100x EXP Server.

Fear of stepping into a server I didn't understand, a vague unease — those things made me hesitate. But curiosity drowned them all out for one simple reason.

"It looks like a game."

Thirty years of being a NEET. The only things I'd done in this room were play games and lurk on forums. If someone asked what I was good at, I could say games with my chest out. If someone asked my hobby, I'd say games every time — at least for the sake of sounding socially functional. UI like this, words like these, were painfully familiar to me.

If I'd turned on my computer and seen messages like this, I would have logged in without a second thought, just to find out what they were. So no matter how long I sat there worrying, there was only one answer.

"Connect."

It's not like I'll actually die, right? I thought, calling on the single word that has killed more men than any other, and closed my eyes as the world went dark.

I was shaking. What kind of change was coming? Would my body float, the way it did when you entered a dungeon? I waited and waited, tense with a thousand worries, but I didn't feel anything change.

Had I just been making a fuss over nothing? I carefully opened my eyes.

"…Huh?"

And then I saw it.

"Huuh?"

Gone was my tiny room — the bed, the computer, the blackout curtains, the wardrobe, the single dresser. In its place stretched the interior of a small wooden cabin. A sink along one wall. A tiny bathroom. A living area. A wooden cabin of maybe 280 square feet, with a single window beside the only door, offering a narrow glimpse of the outside.

The messages I'd seen earlier came pouring down without end, and the sudden change of scenery finally hit me for real. So many things had been multiplied by a hundred that I couldn't check them all, but even a glance told me it was packed with good stuff.

"Did I… actually connect?"

A reality that felt like a dream. A situation that felt like a game. The environment had changed, but I was at a complete loss. Where was I even supposed to start?

Fortunately, a quest popped up for my crashing brain. For someone who was already thinking of this as a game, it was perfect. This kind of guidance was familiar.

I carefully opened the cabin door. Right beside it sat a weathered rectangular box. I lifted the lid and found a handful of worn tools inside — a sickle, an axe, a pickaxe. The starter kit you'd see in any survival or farming game. I picked up the sickle.

"It's so rusty. Can this even cut anything?"

The situation was nothing but negatives, but I had to try something. Starting a game with garbage gear was tradition, wasn't it?

Three steps away, weeds stood as tall as I was. I grabbed a stalk around the middle and brought the sickle down. It was too thick to slice, and the blade was too dull — maybe I needed to think of this as crushing rather than cutting.

Crunch!

Turns out my judgment was right. I didn't pull it out by the root, but the stem that had shot up from the ground snapped and split halfway through, and I finished it off by stomping it until it broke. Not a perfect clear, but my first real step. Joy surged through me — and with it, something else welled up from inside my body. Energy filled my limbs. My body felt lighter.

"…Huh?"

A hundred cards bloomed into existence, filling every inch of my vision — which, until that moment, had been nothing but weeds.