The World Became Real

When Namgung Woo lost consciousness inside the game and opened his eyes again, the world had become reality.

Namgung Woo couldn't process the words he'd just heard. He stared blankly for a moment, turning the meaning over in his mind, then looked at the person in front of him as if to confirm that those words had truly come from her.

She seemed to understand the intent behind his gaze and gave a bitter smile, as if she too felt regret.

"Ah, no. It's... understandable."

Though he said it was fine, anyone could see how devastated Namgung Woo was.

"We've been playing for a long time, after all."

Quitting. In the game, that word meant exactly what it said—leaving the game behind.

Chukrok Murim. It was a game with considerable history, one that had existed since the very early days when virtual reality first became mainstream and countless concept-driven games rose and fell like mushrooms after rain. As its name suggested, Chukrok Murim was built on a wuxia worldview. At launch, its sensational open world and detailed martial arts implementation had drawn massive attention, but five years later it had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠long since become an outdated relic.

So quitting wasn't strange at all. There were plenty of other virtual reality wuxia games available now. Still, the fact that she had stayed until now meant this decision wasn't for that reason. If it had been, she would have left long ago.

Namgung Woo asked with lingering attachment, "But why are you quitting, Mae?"

He had asked with a faint hope that perhaps there was something he could do to help her stay. But that hope shattered completely with her answer.

"Ah..."

There was nothing more he could say. A sigh of melancholy rose in Namgung Woo's throat.

Many acquaintances he had known in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game had quit and left before, but this time it hurt especially badly. Every single in-game connection had been precious to him. Some people might dismiss them as nothing more than strangers whose real names and faces he didn't even know. But Namgung Woo had never thought of them as any different from friends he had made in real life.

And among them, Mae was especially special.

Namgung Woo had been a latecomer. He started playing Chukrok Murim when the game had already been open for three years and most players had already reached the Transcendent Realm. It was right around the time when poor management had slowed new player influx and even veteran users were leaving one by one.

As a new player, adapting had been difficult. The person who had helped him then was her.

She had approached him because they shared the Namgung surname in their usernames and taught him everything about Chukrok Murim with endless kindness. Where to hunt for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the fastest growth, which events were most efficient, what items were good, which martial arts offered the best synergy—she had given him nearly ninety percent of all his knowledge about the game.

Their relationship hadn't stopped at that initial help. Namgung Woo had grown rapidly thanks to her guidance, and since Namgung Mae preferred to play casually, their realms soon became similar. After that, the two of them had stuck together like a pair of inseparable companions.

Even within the guild called Namgung Family—made up only of users whose usernames contained "Namgung"—the two of them stood out for how much time they spent together. All the dungeon time attacks they had challenged as a duo, the early mornings spent chatting while admiring beautiful scenery, the brutal sparring sessions where she had beaten him black and blue while teaching him how to fight... every memory was precious and dear.

The reason Namgung Woo had risen to become one of the top rankers despite joining late was entirely because he wanted to repay Namgung Mae for her help. To him, she had been both the driving force and the very reason he played Chukrok Murim.

Thinking that she would no longer be there made something deep inside his chest ache.

"It's going to feel lonely."

But he couldn't hold her back. It would have been far too selfish to keep her from pursuing her dreams and focusing on real life just for his own enjoyment.

Perhaps he looked too pitiful. Namgung Mae smiled bitterly and spoke in a soothing tone.

"A year?"

Namgung Woo knew her age. If she was going abroad for a master's program, would it really only take a year?

"I see."

"I'm already running a bus right now."

"Whenever you come back, I'll carry you. You will come back, right?"

"Who knows? As long as the game doesn't shut down."

Namgung Mae spoke with genuine worry. Even now, the number of concurrent users was dropping sharply, making large-scale raids practically impossible. Back when Namgung Woo had started, it hadn't been uncommon for beginners to grow with help from veterans. There had been plenty of veterans leveling alternate characters. But now even those veterans were leaving, and new players couldn't even get started properly before quitting.

"Still, it should last at least a year. There's still a lot of unreleased content."

"You think so?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm the Family Head, after all. I'll wait here until you come back—even if it means until the game shuts down."

He meant it. If he had never met Namgung Mae, Namgung Woo probably wouldn't have played Chukrok Murim this seriously. Feeling embarrassed by his own words, he quickly changed the subject.

"By the way, have you talked to Pung yet?"

Although Namgung Woo and Namgung Mae were closest, the three of them—including Namgung Pung—had traveled together far more often. They had even been somewhat famous as the Namgung Trio, but that was now a thing of the past.

Namgung Mae cracked a joke the way she always did when they were close, trying to lighten the somber mood. Seeing her like that, Namgung Woo couldn't stay downcast any longer.

"Then since this might be the last time, shall we do one last patrol?"

After Namgung Mae left, saying she had things to prepare for her study abroad, Namgung Woo remained alone. He stared at the empty guild management window with a heavy heart.

"The game is really dying."

The guild had a full roster of fifty members, yet only he was online. Namgung Woo let out a hollow murmur. The reason he had taken on the position of guild master—what they called Family Head within the Namgung Family—was painfully obvious.

"Guess I'll run the Primal Tower."

The Honwon Tower. It was a typical endgame achievement content. The tower was filled with absurdly powerful monsters, and the simple yet compelling challenge of seeing how many floors one could clear had made it popular. Even now, no one had ever surpassed the tenth floor.

Namgung Woo's own record was ninth floor. But for some reason, he felt like he might be able to break through to the tenth floor today.

If he could reach the tenth floor that no one had ever touched, Mae would surely be amazed. As a parting gift, he would show her an unknown realm of Chukrok Murim that no one else knew about. Just thinking about it brought a little vitality back to his gloomy heart.

They said once you've thought of something, you should act on it. Following ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the principle of unity of mind and body, Namgung Woo put the idea into practice immediately.

Buffs and potions don't work in the Honwon Tower anyway, so let's go straight there.

The Honwon Tower was a special map accessible from any village as long as you had an entry ticket. Namgung Woo used his ticket right away and began his ascent.

Youkai, demonic beasts, masters of previous generations... as he cleared floor after floor filled with varied enemies, the vague feeling Namgung Woo had sensed gradually turned into certainty.

Today was different. Perhaps it was because his sense of purpose was firmer than ever. It really seemed possible to conquer the ninth floor—the one said to have never been defeated by anyone in Chukrok Murim.

The moment he defeated the ninth floor's ruler, the Blood Controller, Namgung Woo felt overwhelming joy and immediately rushed up to the tenth floor.

And the instant his foot touched the previously unconquered tenth floor—

A voice that resonated not in his ears but in his very soul shook Namgung Woo's consciousness.

It was strange. Chukrok Murim had mystical voice transmission techniques like Sound Transmission and Heart-to-Heart Illumination. But even those could not transcend the limits of hearing. Yet the voice reaching Namgung Woo right now had truly gone beyond that boundary.

The moment he sensed the abnormality, Namgung Woo's consciousness was dyed black.

Within his fading, sinking awareness, the last thought that crossed his mind was the same as always.

I still have to go see her off....