A Goblin's Duty

Humanity was no longer the protagonist of Earth.

"But we have to make them feel like, 'Aha, I really am the protagonist!' That's our job."

The senior goblin, wielding a longsword half his height, spoke.

"The key is tension. What do the users want from us? A simple punching bag? No. They want the realism and sense of accomplishment that comes from winning a fight for survival. We trade a few blows, make them think, Wait, could I actually lose this? and then gracefully bite the dust right when they start to sweat. That is the duty of our Customer Satisfaction Team—the Goblins. Got it?"

Another senior goblin, holding a hand axe, chimed in.

"Yes, sir!"

I answered with vigor, repeatedly crouching and standing up.

I wanted to nod, but the dagger-wielding goblin avatar I was using didn't have a nodding animation.

It had been constructed with the bare minimum amount of data to reduce server load.

The senior goblins were in the same boat, rapidly crouching and standing in response. Even though it was the exact same movement, it felt strangely satisfying.

Upon seeing the notice, we scattered into the forest.

Intra-Maetan.

It was the closed intranet network of Maetan, the company I worked for, and a virtual world created by repurposing data from a VR game that had been popular before the war.

Its defining feature was its overwhelming realism.

The virtual reality, generated by data flowing directly into the cranial nerves and utilizing human senses, was indistinguishable from the real world.

The clouds in the sky, the wind brushing against one's cheek, the majestic cityscapes, and even the most trivial utensils inside buildings—everything was modeled precisely after reality.

It was, without a doubt, humanity's final masterpiece.

However, as a virtual world, Intra-Maetan possessed a fatal flaw: it had no inhabitants.

There were no autonomously functioning characters—no shopkeepers, guides, or background extras to flesh out the towns, all of which would normally exist in a standard game.

In Intra-Maetan, every single one of those roles had to be manually controlled by a human.

Some worked in restaurants, some in clothing stores, and others swept the streets.

Everyone was physically working to keep the virtual world of Intra-Maetan running.

The people who worked to keep Intra-Maetan 'functioning' in this manner were called NPCs.

And I was one of those NPCs.

A dagger-wielding goblin.

An NPC whose sole purpose was to 'provide a moderate amount of tension, then bite the dust in a spectacular fashion.'

"Oh? A dagger goblin? Is it an elite mob?"

Before long, I encountered a man wielding a greatsword that easily exceeded two meters in length. The gruesome corpses of other goblins lay scattered at his feet.

"Perfect. I came here to test my weapon's performance, but everyone was so weak it was getting boring. Come on, bring it. I'll show you the power of my Genocide Blade."

A sinister black aura flared from the greatsword the man held.

He didn't seem like the kind of user who belonged in a tutorial zone.

This place, the Goblin's Forest, was a tutorial zone where users logging into Intra-Maetan learned how to fight.

In other words, there was no reason for an experienced user to ever set foot here.

I held my dagger out in front of me and faced the warrior.

The key is tension.

Recalling my senior's advice, I swung my dagger.

...

...

A short while later.

The man, now sprawled on the ground, muttered:

"Fuck, what a trash game."

"What?! A dagger goblin beat a B-Grade Player?"

Department Head Han of the Customer Satisfaction Team shouted, stubbing out his cigarette.

This was the smoking room inside Intra-Maetan.

It was one of the few virtual spaces where one could experience 'smoking,' a habit that had been completely wiped out in reality.

It was also a place ruled by the absurd corporate hierarchy that banned anyone below the rank of Assistant Manager from entering.

Manager Kim, who had rushed to the smoking room to report, bowed his head and spoke.

"Ye... yes. Surprisingly, it's true."

"It wasn't a suicide or someone just leaving their character idle?"

"Not according to the logs. We investigated the possibility of a bug, but everything was normal."

"...Then what, a B-Grade Player fought seriously against a dagger goblin and lost?"

Players.

They were the select few authorized to dive into the 'Internet'—which was now occupied by rogue, insane AIs—and possessed formidable combat capabilities to carry out dangerous missions.

On the other hand, a dagger goblin?

That was just a mob. A basic avatar designed to occupy the absolute minimum amount of data and bandwidth.

Its only available actions were Roll and stab.

It was an opponent that even someone logging into Intra-Maetan for the very first time today could defeat with just a little effort.

"Does that make any sense? There has to be a bug we missed. Unbelievable. Who was the goblin pilot? Is he completely devoid of common sense? He was supposed to put up a decent fight and then lose. Why the hell did he fight so tooth and nail to win?"

"The pilot is Associate Yoon Juhyuk..."

"Yoon Juhyuk? The rookie?"

Department Head Han furrowed his brow, searching his memory for Yoon Juhyuk.

Was he twenty-seven? He was quick on his feet, but Han recalled a pair of strangely vacant, unfocused eyes.

His disastrous E-GradeComputation Grade had left a strong impression. In Intra-Maetan, where one's Computation Grade was directly equated to capability, an E-Grade was rarely assigned to virtual tasks, usually being relegated to manual labor in reality. He must have pushed incredibly hard to get this job.

"...I knew there was something off about him, like he was bound to cause trouble. What did the Player say?"

Department Head Han figured the Player was unlikely to lodge a formal complaint over this.

A Player losing to a goblin?

It wasn't just embarrassing.

It could lead to talks of suspending their Player rank.

"Well... there's a problem."

"What is it?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"The Player was live-streaming."

Department Head Han felt his mind go blank.

"Why the hell would anyone stream in a tutorial zone? What is there to even show?"

"He didn't have many viewers, but clips are already circulating. They're calling him 'the B-class who got wrecked by a goblin.'"

"Ah... fuck..."

If it had just been the Player alone, they could have blamed it on a bug, apologized, and smoothed things over.

But there was no way to salvage a Player's reputation once it had plummeted into the abyss.

Department Head Han fell into deep thought over how to compensate him.

If only it wasn't a bug, and the goblin had actually won through sheer skill...

If that were the case, the incident would blow up, but the blame would shift to the Player rather than their department.

After all, a Player losing to a goblin was utterly preposterous.

"Sir, that's not the main issue."

"...I'm starting to get scared. Can I just not hear it?"

"...The B-Grade Player is an executive's grandson."

Department Head Han's vision swam!

If it were just a regular Player, they might have had some room to negotiate, but it was a completely different story when the higher-ups were involved.

This is out of my hands now.

Department Head Han took a deep drag of his remaining ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cigarette.

Department Head Han opened the notification window floating before his eyes and sighed.

"Hey. Bring that bastard in."

"Why are you still in that getup?"

"I was ordered not to log out of the goblin avatar until the investigation is complete."

The green goblin, standing rigidly at attention, replied.

Laughter erupted from the people inside the smoking room at the sight.

The smoking room was packed to the brim with onlookers.

Rumors of the valiant goblin who defeated a B-class Player had already spread like wildfire throughout the company.

Everyone who heard the rumor had the exact same question in mind.

How do you take down a B-class with a goblin?

Seeing the culprit in person made the story seem even more unbelievable.

A goblin.

Short stature, puny limbs, and a pitifully weak body.

The lowest of the low-tier monsters.

It was literally a creature designed to be slaughtered.

Yet, he had defeated a B-class with a trash mob like that. Just what kind of god-tier micro-control had he displayed?

Of course, most of the employees assumed he had exploited some kind of bug.

Department Head Han sighed and spoke.

"Fine, just listen in that state."

If he had him switch back to his personal avatar here, the other employees would see Yoon Juhyuk's face.

While anyone could easily look up his profile on the company server, there was no need to give the onlookers a new face to gossip about.

It was also for Yoon Juhyuk's own good.

"Associate Yoon Juhyuk. You were controlling the elite mob, the dagger goblin, in the Goblin's Forest when you encountered a Player. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"You engaged him in combat... fought for 48 minutes and 15 seconds... and killed the Player. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you use any exploits, bugs, or unauthorized programs during the engagement?"

The onlookers' eyes locked onto the goblin's mouth.

"No, sir. I did not."

Gasps and murmurs erupted from the crowd.

"...The company's investigation also showed no signs of foul play or anomalies. It appears you didn't violate any company regulations."

The crowd began to buzz.

He had really taken down a B-class with a goblin.

Furthermore, if he hadn't broken any rules, there was no logical reason to discipline him.

"However, there is such a thing as professional ethics. You learned about the core objective of our Customer Satisfaction Team during training, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"State it."

"To ensure the users experience the tension of combat and a sense of accomplishment."

"Exactly. Accomplishment. Losing gracefully is part of our job. While you didn't violate company policy, your actions resulted in the user having an experience that was the exact opposite of our objective."

Department Head Han stared at the goblin standing before him.

Because of its low data footprint, the goblin avatar had almost no facial expressions. It only had a smiling face and an angry face.

Its default state was a grin, so the goblin Yoon Juhyuk was currently piloting maintained a wide, goofy smile.

Han actually found that to be a relief.

It was never pleasant to look at a subordinate's face while disciplining them.

"Therefore, the company has decided to take disciplinary action against you. You are dismissed for the day. And starting tomorrow, you don't need to report here."

Department Head Han attached the official order to a message and sent it to Yoon Juhyuk.

Seeing the goblin's eyes drift upward, it was clear he had received it.

"Associate Yoon Juhyuk, you are being assigned to field duty. Your target data collection is two gigabytes."

A collective shudder ran through the room.

The moment the words 'field duty' left Han's mouth, the atmosphere in the smoking room shifted instantly.

The people who had been chatting amiably or snickering at the scolded little goblin grew pale, casting looks of pity toward him instead.

Department Head Han couldn't hide his bitter feelings.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠survival rate of a low-ranking employee sent on field duty was barely sixty percent.

He felt a pang of guilt for failing to protect a subordinate who hadn't even clearly broken any rules.

Yet, whether the goblin in front of him sensed Han's inner turmoil or not, he replied calmly.

"Order received. Thank you for your hard work, sir."

"Right. You're dismissed."

Just as the goblin was about to leave the smoking room, Department Head Han stopped him.

"Oh, before you go, there's one thing I want to ask..."

Han glanced around at the onlookers.

He figured it was better to clear the air here rather than let wild rumors fester.

"How did you win?"

"Pardon?"

"A dagger goblin only has two combat actions: Roll and stab. But you beat a Player—not just some average user, but a B-class wielding a unique item. You would have died in a single hit. How did you pull off a win?"

It was a question Han himself was genuinely dying to know the answer to.

Just what kind of miraculous skill had he displayed?

Or did he possess some new technique that bypassed the system's rules?

But the answer he received was surprisingly simple.

"I rolled, and I stabbed."

"What?"

"I dodged every single attack, and I stabbed him until he died."

"Does that make any sense?! You beat him without getting hit even once?"

Department Head Han raised his voice without realizing it.

Evading every single one of a Player's attacks for forty-eight minutes while chipping away at his health with a dagger's pathetic damage until he died.

It was easy to say, but it was not something a person in a normal state of mind could actually pull off.

Especially not a rookie with a mere three months of experience in Intra-Maetan.

"...Let me ask you one last thing. Why did you fight so desperately?"

"I was taught that we must provide the Players with a moderate amount of tension."

"Yes, that! You only needed to give him a moderate amount of tension. Why did you fight so desperately to the point of killing him?"

The goblin replied in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

"How can anyone feel tension if they aren't in actual danger of dying?"

That day, the company bulletin board erupted over the appearance of a psychopathic goblin.

A message announcing the termination of the connection floated before my eyes.

The office scenery dissolved, replaced by the sight of my room, which had been provided as company housing.

Thick pipes ran across the ceiling alongside a web of tangled cables.

Water dripped slowly from the joints, feeding the patches of mold growing beneath them.

It was a cramped, dark, ten-square-meter space with no furniture to speak of—a place meant solely for bare survival.

The logout text still lingered in the air, but it vanished the moment I unplugged the USB cable from the Neck-Hub implanted in the back of my neck.

I got up from the bed and stood before the sink in the corner of the room.

My reflection stared back from the dusty, clouded mirror.

It was not a green-skinned goblin, but a battle-scarred man missing his left arm below the elbow.

My face was a mess of tears and snot.

"Ugh...!"

No, they were starting to spill over again.

I turned on the tap and washed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my face with my right hand.

The metallic, rusty water washed away my tears.

"I didn't get fired..."

To be honest, my tears hadn't stopped since the moment I was summoned to the smoking room.

I was absolutely certain I was going to be fired.

Thank god the goblin avatar didn't have a crying animation.

"I'm so glad it just ended with field duty..."

Drying my face with a threadbare towel full of holes, I looked out the window.

A towering wall loomed in the distance, enclosing the city like a prison.

In the sky, a violet aurora shimmered—the product of the magnetic field trapping what remained of humanity.

Street orphans fled with stolen scraps of food, and muggers lurked in every dark alleyway.

Smog billowed from various quarters, and the sounds of endless brawls and disputes echoed through the streets.

Yet, to my eyes, all of it looked beautiful.

Because it meant I would still be able to feed myself tomorrow.