Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Doubts About Khan
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“Please wait just a moment.”
“Ah, yes.”
As the man in the suit turned away, Ha-joon nodded with a face full of tension.
‘Phew... I want to go home.’
Every time he glanced around, Ha-joon felt like he’d ended up in a place that didn’t suit him at all.
This was the headquarters of The Phase, the developers of Evil Tail—the tallest building in the world.
Gulp.
The top of the suffocatingly high 183rd floor.
When he looked out the window, the unimaginable height made Ha-joon’s legs feel weak.
“Pretty high, huh?”
It was then.
The door to the executive office opened, and a woman walked toward him.
“It’s a bit over the top, but a lot of the board thinks the building’s height proves how popular Evil Tail is—the game we made.”
She flashed a bright smile at Ha-joon.
“I put a ton of effort into this one. What do you think? I know you’re not big on stuff like this.”
“It’s impressive. Sis... No, Director Han.”
“Forget that. Be casual with me. Between us, I mean. Manager Ji, I told you before, right? He’s like a little brother to me—we go way back.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, but could you give us the room for a bit?”
“Understood.”
The man shot Ha-joon a quick glance before bowing his head.
His sharp gaze still seemed to view him with suspicion.
‘Is something wrong?’
Even the oblivious Ha-joon could tell the manager’s attitude was off.
“Cut him some slack. There was an unfortunate incident recently.”
“What happened?”
“Some board members died.”
“...What?!”
Ha-joon let out an involuntary yelp at her completely unexpected words.
“It happened on the way back from a board meeting. Looks like a simple traffic accident... but with so many people against virtual reality these days.”
After Evil Tail was released, capsule-style virtual reality exploded in popularity.
Similar VR games followed, and now more than half the world’s population owned capsules.
It was unprecedented success, but plenty of people were worried about the trend.
Virtual reality was starting to take priority over the real world.
There were more people holed up in capsules than wandering the streets.
“You mean it might’ve been murder, not just an accident?”
“Well, now that it’s happened, we should play it safe.”
“...”
Ha-joon’s expression soured at her words.
He’d only created it to make gaming more fun...
Why did it feel like things were drifting further from the dream he’d envisioned?
“So, why’d you want to see me?”
“You’re the one who assigned me to the management team, right, sis?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? The reason I stayed with the company wasn’t to spy on someone.”
“Does it feel like spying?”
“Huh?”
“That player, right? The one who kicked up a fuss in Moretti Square about not being able to log out.”
Ha-joon nodded.
“How is he now?”
“...That player triggered the Dragon Lord quest.”
One of the directors gave a peculiar smile at his response.
“It shouldn’t be possible to trigger it at this stage... The Dragon Lord shows up in the third scenario.”
“Who knows. Ethan splitting the scenarios into turns doesn’t necessarily mean strict order.”
“One wrong move, and it could shatter the balance. We’ve only unlocked one of the twelve unique classes so far, and now something even higher up?”
“So, what’s your take?”
“...”
Ha-joon stared at her wordlessly.
‘Stupid me, getting all worked up alone.’
He’d known her for so long that no one understood her better than he did.
‘If it was a problem, she would’ve handled it already.’
That meant it was all within the planned scope.
“Fine, the class aside. But he didn’t just clear Dark Forest’s three great dungeons—he conquered the newly generated Ice Cavern and even the uncharted Black Mist region.”
Ha-joon asked cautiously.
“He’s one impressive guy.”
“Yeah. Impressive enough that it’s weird. Casually pulling off feats even Keruga couldn’t manage.”
“Wouldn’t it be weirder to say no one else can do what Keruga couldn’t?”
Director Han told him.
“Well...”
“If there was an issue, Ethan would’ve reported it by now. And any balance problems get patched in real time.”
“Patched? You still haven’t recovered the user data lost after Blackout.”
At Ha-joon’s words, Director Han’s face hardened for the first time.
“That did happen, but that’s separate. Everything that player said turned out to be lies. We’ve even finished all real-world investigations.”
“What if the AI is lying?”
“...What?”
“User data with personal info got wiped, and character info is managed by Ethan under regulations.”
Ha-joon pressed on.
“Even as an admin, there’s nothing we can learn about him. We’re stuck trusting what Ethan tells us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. An AI wouldn’t lie.”
She hadn’t changed a bit.
Ha-joon regretted coming to her.
“You said you saw him fighting in the Alchemist’s Lab, right? Do the rest of his achievements seem impossible?”
“No. They seem possible.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that it feels engineered to seem possible.”
He said to Director Han.
“That player’s strength is abnormal.”
“But there are no issues on the system side.”
“I’m not talking about the system. The system can miss things. Sis, didn’t you move me to management because you sensed something off too?”
Ha-joon cried out in a trembling voice.
“I created Evil Tail! No one knows the game’s systems better than I do!”
“True. But that was just because of the Blackout incident. I’ll get reports if anything goes wrong in-game.”
“...You trust Ethan way too much.”
“You’ve never trusted Ethan, even from the start.”
“Ever since you brought in Ethan, you’ve changed. An AI isn’t a god. No program is perfect, no matter how sophisticated.”
Thud.
He pulled an envelope from his pocket and set it down in front of her.
“You’re still the same, sis.”
“...What are you doing?”
“This isn’t something a mere deputy director should say to you... But as a colleague who built this game together, I wanted to say goodbye.”
Director Han frowned at the word “resignation letter” written on the envelope as she stared at him.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I figured we can’t know everything just by staring at monitors.”
“You... You’re not thinking of jumping into the game yourself, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“You’re a developer—you know all the unpublished source code. What’s to stop you from abusing it? That’s exactly what would wreck the game’s balance.”
“Sis!! Do I look like the type who’d do that?”
“Who knows.”
Her final response was ice-cold.
“Pretend this never happened and go back to your desk.”
Grip—
Ha-joon tightened his fist at her words.
“...Where exactly is my desk?”
Director Han gave no reply.
Bang!!!
In a rare fit of irritation unlike him, Ha-joon slammed the executive office door shut as he stormed out.
“Phew...”
After he left, Director Han let out a weary sigh and tore up the resignation letter on her desk before tossing it in the trash.
“That’s him, right? The genius developer who was all over the news. They say he built Evil Tail’s core systems all by himself?”
“Yeah. A total genius when it comes to system architecture.”
“Why’d you have him investigate that guy named Khan? He’s the hottest topic in the boardroom right now.”
“I figured my kid might be able to uncover something.”
None of the personal details matched up, and with user data wiped by Blackout, they had no way to verify anything.
“Whether this player Khan is a real person...”
Director Han’s eyes sharpened.
“Or a program created by the AI.”
“If... it turns out to be a program?”
“Then it’d mean Ethan might be lying, just like he said.”
“That’s kinda scary.”
“Here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that.”
Director Han murmured softly, gazing at the shredded resignation letter.
“Hup...!!!”
His sword stance was perfectly stable.
His footwork was precise, and the arc of his swing flawless enough to draw admiration even from someone ignorant of swordsmanship.
Boom!!
The swing unleashed an explosion with a deafening roar.
[Kr... krruk...]
The massive body crumpled to the ground.
“I... I did it!!”
Karan clenched his fist in delight and looked at Woojin.
“Well done. How does it feel?”
“It’s completely different. Back then, even using swordsmanship felt stuffy somehow... but now the blade moves exactly as I intend.”
“It’s your body—it should move as you will. You’re not lacking in skill. You were just too held back before.”
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. Thanks to you, I got to witness the Sword Emperor’s techniques.”
Woojin eyed the fallen ogre corpse.
‘What an odd skill. A sword slash causing an explosion.’
The final day of their seven-day journey.
Woojin had finally permitted Karan to use his swordsmanship.
And sure enough, he was a different beast with his skills active.
He could handle up to five Ice Trolls at once, and even two Ogres without much trouble.
“Hunting went faster thanks to you. I owe you one.”
It wasn’t empty praise.
Thanks to Karan’s frenzied hunting starting from day three, Woojin had reached level 49 before he knew it.
“There it is.”
As the ogre’s body dissolved into ash, the dimensional gate deep in the forest finally came into view.
A massive door shaped like a mirror, rippling with white mist inside.
“Come with me. As promised, I’ll introduce you to my father.”
“But can we actually pass through that gate?”
“No problem. Members of families and guilds recognized by the Central Continent can authorize passage for Dark Forest residents too.”
Karan said as he pulled a small nameplate from his pocket.
“Neat feature.”
“Yes. But I haven’t heard of any outsiders receiving one yet.”
“Really?”
It was surprising.
Top players were already conquering Labyrinth Towers and inventing new spells... deeply embedded in Central Continent politics.
‘Well, it does leave room for abuse.’
It seemed Ethan had locked it for players from the start.
Click—
Karan slotted the nameplate into the groove beside the gate.
Whoosh!!
The gate began to glow with pure white light.
“Wow...”
Luen let out an awed gasp at the sight.
Gazing at the rippling portal, even Woojin felt a fresh surge of emotion.
This was where Evil Tail truly began.