Proxima Centauri Ort Cloud (1)
I felt the chilly air. It was a crisp coolness that felt just right, but it left me desperately missing the blanket from my own bed. Unable to shake off the nagging discomfort, I slowly opened my eyes.
Right before I'd closed them, I'd been in my narrow but cozy studio apartment—dirty, sure, but with its own sense of order. A cramped one-room packed with a bed, wardrobe, desk, and computer. Deposit of ten million won, monthly rent of 750,000 including management fees.
But what stretched out before me now was a frosted, fogged-up glass pane radiating cold. Beyond the slightly hazy surface lay a night sky unlike any I'd seen—not quite a night sky at all, but a glittering swarm of stars. No matter where I looked, it resembled the heavens, yet it was definitely not.
Am I dreaming? It was the kind of scene you'd only catch in those space documentaries I binged when insomnia hit. I pinched my cheek experimentally.
It hurt. But before the pain even registered, my face felt impossibly soft. My skin, washed with nothing but cheap soap, had no business being this smooth. And there wasn't a hint of stubble—my fingertips registered an eerie, flawless silkiness.
My brain couldn't process it. Every shred of logic screamed that this couldn't be real.
I reached out and touched the frosted glass. The chill was bone-deep, indistinguishable from reality—like pressing against a window in the dead of a brutal winter cold snap, or worse, grabbing a glass forgotten in the freezer.
"What the hell is this...?"
The words slipped out unbidden. But my voice sounded all wrong—high-pitched and strained, like a bad cold had wrecked my throat. I coughed to clear it.
"Welcome back, Captain. Or should I say Admiral now?"
Before I could finish, a mechanical voice—clipped, emotionless, businesslike—emanated from above my head. I tilted my gaze upward in a daze. It came from what looked like a speaker grille.
Suddenly, the glass wall in front of me lit up with data overlays. Precise holographic projections laid bare every detail. It felt like I'd nodded off and woken up abducted by aliens.
But why would aliens treat me like the boss?
"Where am I?"
Another reflexive question. Silence hung from the speaker for a beat.
Has to be a dream.
"If you're asking about your current location, this is the bridge of UNSS Covenant, the last battleship of the UNSC under the UNDF. If you're asking about the ship's position, it's at standard galactic coordinates -1.539, -1.178, -3.751—in the Proxima Centauri Ort Cloud on the outskirts of the Proxima Centauri system."
The speaker rattled it off instantly, as if crunching numbers on the fly.
Hold up. UNSS? UNDF? Why's it dumping all this unfamiliar crap on me? What kind of world is this?
"...I imagine you're disoriented, Admiral. But we don't have the luxury for that right now—the situation is dire."
A faint hiss of static, and the glass wall slid upward. A misty haze billowed from the floor like dry ice hitting water. The door had barely opened when nausea surged up my throat.
I dropped to the deck without hesitation, hacking and dry-heaving. My body felt heavy—especially my chest, weighed down like lead. My arms seemed unnaturally slender, and there was nothing familiar in my groin. No, this body was all wrong.
I hadn't noticed earlier amid the shock, but I was stark naked. A woman's body. And silvery-gray hair—nearly white—swayed in my peripheral vision, long enough to annoy.
My own hair had been short and dark. This felt no dream; it was brutally, vividly real.
"What the actual fuck...?"
Confusion crashed over me. I couldn't even grasp the basics of what was happening.
A blue holographic orb—roughly baseball-sized, glowing brightly—floated into view, shaped like a pod.
"Do you know your own name?"
The same voice emanated from it.
My name? That much I knew...
"Kang-hyun. Kim Kang-hyun."
I spat it out plainly. The blue orb hovered silently, then flashed red briefly before reverting to blue.
"Cognitive disorientation confirmed, Admiral. We were warned of potential long-term memory loss or confusion as a side effect of the revival process, but seeing it firsthand is... unusual."
The orb responded flatly, as if it'd anticipated this.
Cognitive disorientation? What the hell does that even mean? None of this made a lick of sense.
Something clattered to the floor in front of me—a dog tag, like the ones issued to soldiers. Crudely stamped metal plate, same as ever.
Navy 38-10043-99
Gray von Mittermeyer
The tag listed my basic info. The name jumped out—familiar. The serial number too.
Gray von Mittermeyer.
Funny story: it was the protagonist's name from that roguelike game I'd played briefly. I'd skimmed the story, remembered zilch, and quit because the difficulty was insane—no clear even attempted. I wasn't some veteran min-maxer who'd scraped every mechanic for optimal strats. Maybe a few hundred light-years off, at best. But the tutorial had stuck, so basics lingered.
Goddamn it. Possessed into that shitty game?
"Admiral?"
The blue orb bobbed in front of my eyes, calling me. The glare stung.
But sitting here zoning out changed nothing. Getting isekai'd into an uncleared game? Reality checks and denial led to one conclusion: some inexplicable phenomenon had dumped me into this game world—or something like it.
Handy for novels, sure, but living it felt profoundly weird.
No point denying forever. Things wouldn't change.
If you can't dodge it, enjoy it, right?
"Hurts my eyes."
I wiped the mystery drool from my mouth, shoved the blue orb away with my hand—it felt solid, not pure hologram—and spoke flatly. The hacking coughs kept coming, and being buck-naked made the air bite even colder.
"Commencing cognitive test, Admiral. What is your name?"
The orb's tone was dry as dust.
I'd never forget the name on that tag.
"Gray. Gray von Mittermeyer. Serial: 38-10043-99. Date of birth..."
...Wait, what's my birthday here?
"July 10, 2515. Correct?"
The orb cut me off mid-thought, dead serious. It felt right—instinct confirmed.
"Yeah."
I answered without hesitation.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral. I am the ship's auxiliary operations AI. No designated name yet—call me whatever's convenient."
The orb darted around playfully before responding.
No name? Just call it Machine?
"How about Cortana?"
I tossed it out half-joking. The orb froze mid-bob, rotated as if eyeing me.
"That's the most ominous name I've heard. I trust you don't want me going yandere on you after devoted service."
It flat-out refused.
Fun. Should've stuck with that game longer—didn't know it had gems like this.
"White, then?"
A word flashed in my mind; I blurted it.
The orb approached, then pulled back slightly, regarding me. Satisfied, it bobbed up and down.
"Ship operations auxiliary AI White, reporting to the Admiral."
It centered itself on the bridge, voice all business. Guess she likes it...?
"Awaiting orders."
The orb hovered expectantly, like it was staring me down.
Perfect. My first order as admiral was crystal clear.
"Get me some clothes. It's freezing."
Simple command to the orb—no, to White. I'm naked here. Clothes. Now. Cold.