I Fell

The screen glowed with vibrant colors.

Surprisingly, that was the name of the game I was playing. It had launched officially three years ago and had held the undisputed top spot ever since.

If someone asked what kind of game it was, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could only describe it as an academy game where you created characters from a dazzling array of job classes and raised countless avatars.

True to its name, the game was packed with every conceivable profession. Even though I had started late, today I finally maxed out my fifth character. I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh.

“Finally, the fifth one’s max level too!”

It had already been half a year since I started playing, and I had only just reached five max-level characters. Some might call that slow, but I didn’t really care.

The game was something I played to kill time, not a competitive grind.

Of course, since Korean blood ran in my veins, there were nights I stayed up until dawn. But that was beside the point.

“I really worked hard.”

I sat up from my reclined position and gazed at the five brilliantly shining characters on the monitor. Each one proudly displayed the game’s max level—100—above their heads.

They were, in order: my main, the Dual Blade class; my sub, the Qigong Master; followed by the Archer, the Mage, and the Chef.

Naturally, every single one of them was female.

I’m sorry, but that’s just the rule. In MMORPGs, playing a male character was an unspoken taboo. Female characters were the only correct choice.

I clicked through my characters one by one, admiring them, when a sudden thought made me hum.

“How much have I spent on this game already? About ten million won?”

Unlike other games, Colors of the Rainbow wasn’t designed to push microtransactions. Its goal was pure enjoyment for the players. Ten million won was still a hefty sum, but looking at these perfectly raised, sparkling characters, I didn’t feel a single ounce of regret.

After all, with just ten million I had achieved the efficiency of a hundred million spent in other games. There was nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to feel bad about.

But that satisfaction lasted only a moment. My eyes suddenly widened at the new window that popped up in the character selection screen.

“Iriel?”

The name, one I hadn’t heard in a long time, slipped from my lips without thinking.

The Goddess of Choice, Iriel. She was described as the creator deity of the Colors of the Rainbow universe and appeared in the prologue story for every single job class.

She had her own temple in the capital city of Phra Kingdom and was the goddess players would serve if they chose a healer-type class.

It was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠surprising to see a quest from the Goddess Iriel suddenly appear in the character selection screen, but I figured it was probably just a bug from progressing too quickly. I roughly accepted that explanation and turned my attention to the quest details.

“If the goddess is asking for help, does that mean another quest for the clergy class has popped up?”

If so, it was definitely worth accepting. The rewards for clergy-related quests were always quite generous.

Without much thought, I moved the mouse and clicked the accept button. I would only realize a moment later that this had been a terrible mistake.

The instant I pressed accept, the quest window vanished. In its place, messages began scrolling upward at blinding speed, filling the entire screen.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Was the game crashing? Worried that something might be wrong with my brand-new computer, I panicked and reached for the mouse I had let go of. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right before my fingers touched it—

A translucent holographic window appeared not on the monitor, but directly in front of my eyes. It bid me farewell.

The moment I finished reading those words, my vision flickered and went dark.