Chwiwharu

I'd read a few web novels about people getting sucked into games, but living it myself was a first.

Even for an indie title, a complete absence of reviews and a zero rating should have set off alarm bells. Now I knew why. Everyone else had booted the game without a second thought, just like me — and wound up dragged in here.

"...?"

Hold on. How long was I supposed to keep playing? If this really was a game, there had to be a clear condition somewhere.

Then I remembered the text that had floated in front of my eyes just a little while ago.

So that was it. Simply surviving in this world was the condition for the ending. On the surface, a straightforward equation for victory.

Then why had no one managed to leave a review or a rating? Unless... no one had survived at all...

A shiver ran through me. Even that sensation was so crushingly real it hammered home, once again, that this was no ordinary VR game.

Thud!

Just to be sure, I drove my fist into the wall. A raw, blinding pain shot up my arm and sent a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chill down my spine.

Everything was real. The reddening skin. The searing agony.

For all I knew, a Game Over here linked straight to actual death in the real world.

But I forced myself to stay calm. I was something of an expert — more than a decade spent playing nothing but Three Kingdoms games.

As I'd seen on the stat window earlier, this place was a liminal space where reality and the digital bled into each other with uncanny precision. Which meant that with enough game knowledge, a one-turn clear without ever seeing a Game Over was entirely possible.

The problem was that I'd blindly selected Expert difficulty, locking my total ability score at one hundred.

I'd seen people run that kind of concept play in officer-mode games before. But behind the scenes, they must have been hammering save and load like madmen.

No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find a way to save or load. There wasn't even a Tutorial, so I had no real sense of what kind of game I was dealing with.

The one mercy was that the [?] markers let me piece together a rough idea of how things worked. The ability stats in this world, for instance, functioned like this:

True to its nature as a bargain-bin knockoff of Koei's Three Kingdoms, the uses for Leadership, Might, Intelligence, Politics, and Charisma were almost identical. At the same time, it occurred to me that being a White-Haired Failure wasn't quite as abysmal as it sounded.

According to the historian Wang Yongmin, the population of this era was roughly thirty-eight million. A thousand people notable enough to appear in the game put you in the top 0.00002 percent — genuine super-elites.

Liu Shan and Sun Hao had been emperors. Huang Hao and Cen Hun had been powerful ministers who twisted entire kingdoms around their fingers. Han Xuan and Yang Song looked like jokes in the games, but each had been the top dog in his own domain.

That was only true in isolation, of course. Specializing in one direction was still better. Even with a total under a hundred, you needed something usable — Charisma, like Liu Shan — or you were dead weight.

I couldn't deny that, as a prisoner of war, I'd be the kind of trash you behead on the spot to save on salary. But if a weak faction was desperate enough for officers, they might grit their teeth and take you on once or twice.

The good news was the timing: Guangxi Year One — the exact moment the age of chaos began.

Emperor Ling had only just died, and Emperor Shao had barely taken the throne. Even Cao Cao and Yuan Shao, the future titans of the era, had no proper territories yet.

So there was only one thing I needed to do. Find a lord, swear loyalty, and take office. Even a pure freeloader playstyle would keep me clear of a Game Over.

But whose banner should I serve under? As I'd already said, my stats were so bad that the moment I was captured, they'd execute me just to stop wasting the stipend. I needed someone who could contend for the realm without walking me into constant crises.

That left Cao Cao, and only Cao Cao. He hit a few rough patches, sure, but he was fundamentally the man who would conquer the land. In officer mode, the easiest path had always been to crawl under Cao Cao's wing and cling for dear life.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you happen to know anything about a man named Cao Cao?"

"Cao Cao? You mean that iron-faced magistrate who beat an uncle of Jian Shuo to death a few years back for barging through a gate? Is there anyone in Luoyang who doesn't know him?"

I grabbed a passing middle-aged man and asked. Cao Cao was already something of a celebrity. That would make things faster.

"I'd like to work under Lord Cao Cao. Where would I go to meet him?"

"A man like Lord Cao, meeting a vagrant like you? The Son of Heaven just passed, they're scrambling to install a new one — what nonsense are you spouting?"

"Th-then is there another way? What do I need to do to enter official service?"

"Getting recommended as Filial and Incorrupt is the easiest route. What's your father do?"

"Uh... I don't think he's around here..."

"Then do you know anyone at court? Or do you at least have enough money to buy a post from the Ten Eunuchs?"

I dug through my pockets and found ten copper Wuzhu coins. I still had no idea what they were worth, but it was easy enough to tell they wouldn't buy me a government office.

"Then there's nothing for it. Get yourself a Yuedanping and use that to advertise who you are."

A Yuedanping — the Month Evaluation — was a one-line character assessment used as a measure of talent before the civil service exams existed. The most famous of them was Xu Shao's verdict on Cao Cao: A capable minister in times of peace, a cunning hero in times of chaos.

In modern terms, it was like a letter of recommendation for a job, or a certified professional license. Did that mean I needed to seek out Zheng Xuan or Xu Shao?

"If you're a nobody, they won't even see you. Do you have any idea how many people across the realm go begging those gentlemen for a Yuedanping?"

But as I'd seen on the stat window earlier, my fame was zero and I didn't even have an alias. With that, I'd be turned away at the gate. I needed to build a reputation first — something that matched the evaluation I wanted.

"Sir? Is there any kind of job you could give me? Something that, if I pulled it off, would make it impossible for people around here not to know my name?"

"Well... can you fight? I've heard Black Mountain Bandits have been showing up near Mengjin Port lately. Clear them out and you'd make quite a name for yourself."

"..."

Impossible. My Leadership and Might were stuck at twenty, and even if this was a game, the realism put VR to shame. I had zero desire to go anywhere near a battlefield.

"Something that uses the head, maybe..."

"Colonel Kong Rong has been searching for a pearl necklace that vanished from the imperial palace. He's been investigating for days with nothing to show for it. Solve that and your name would spread overnight."

"..."

Kong Rong was infamous as one of the weakest lords in the game, but his Intelligence was at least seventy. A man like that had been grinding for days ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— what was a twenty-stat nobody supposed to contribute?

Intelligence did cover basic judgment, so I might scrape by somehow. But unless it involved Three Kingdoms lore I already knew, playing detective out of nowhere would just waste time.

"Is there anything I could win through sheer diligence? And ideally earn a little money along the way?"

"Then go be a waiter, you brain-dead idiot!"

"..."

Then or now, the only place an incompetent job-seeker ended up was part-time work. Swallowing my tears, I set out to find a tavern.

It was a building on the main thoroughfare of the commercial district, a place called Chwiwharu. The Yellow Turban Rebellion had left the realm in ruins, but Luoyang still flaunted its vitality — and this tavern was large and magnificent enough to prove it.

"Welcome! Fancy some meat broth and dumplings? For wine, the houzhu — said to be brewed by monkeys — is excellent!"

The moment I stepped inside, a waiter with a huge mole on his face greeted me at full volume. The dumplings and broth did sound tempting, but I had business first.

"No. I saw the hiring notice outside for waiters, so I came about that."

"You're here for a job? Then say so from the start, you idiot!"

His face flipped in an instant, as if he'd already decided he was my senior. Even as a White-Haired Failure, I wasn't about to take that from the likes of—

"Yu Bi! We've got a new hire. Train him."

"Ah—! Yes, right away!"

The waiter must have held something like a manager's rank, because he immediately summoned a subordinate. She was a slender young woman of average height, delicate in build.

The strange part was that her entire face was wrapped in bandages, leaving only her eyes and lips exposed. A sudden Egyptian mummy in the late Eastern Han, and no one batted an eye?

"Please, follow me this way."

"Sure. Yu Bi... was it? Why are you wearing bandages on your face?"

"Ah—... The truth is, I suffered a plague as a child and was left with many unsightly scars. Chwiwharu is such a fine establishment that I couldn't bear to show guests ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anything so ugly, so I cover my face like this."

So she was a woman with a pitiful past. The little ah— she kept tacking onto the start of her sentences, the flustered way she carried herself — life had clearly thrown her around.

Her voice, though, was genuinely lovely. Calling it rolling jade beads might have been a stretch, but her pronunciation was clear and soft, and a quiet kindness ran through it that was pleasant on the ear.

And the eyes peeking out between the bandages were large and clear as flawless crystal. Her lips, too, were a vivid, glossy crimson.

If she hadn't caught that plague, she might have grown into a real beauty.

There were a fair number of lunch customers, but I was told Chwiwharu's true face only came out after dark. Since it was a relatively quiet stretch, Yu Bi led me around and taught me the work of the tavern.

"Come to think of it, Lord Do Yeop — where are you staying?"

"I don't actually have a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place. I only just arrived in Luoyang."

"Hup—... Then you'll have to sleep in the stables. What do I do... what do I do..."

"Why are you so flustered?"

"Good grief... The truth is, I only recently came to Luoyang myself, and I've been sleeping in the stables too. But men and women are not to share a space past the age of seven — how could I possibly lie down in the same place as an unrelated man..."

Yu Bi pressed both hands to her burning cheeks, as if the mere thought of sleeping in the same stable was too mortifying to bear.

What did this woman take me for, saying something like that? Sure, I was a healthy man with four working limbs, and yes, I got the urge every day like anyone else.

But I'd come from a world overflowing with idol girls and streamers. What possible reason would I have to lust after someone with pockmarks?

"Don't worry. I'm a gentleman — I would never harm a woman."

"A... gentleman? What is that?"

"It means someone very courteous and self-disciplined... But how did you end up coming all the way to Luoyang, Yu Bi?"

"Oh dear... There are all sorts of circumstances involved. But I truly cannot speak of them..."

"...?"

As she said it, Yu Bi began glancing nervously around us. In fact, since I'd arrived, she had barely met my eyes at all.

I could tell she was the bashful type. Her speech was soft and polite, but her behavior right now couldn't be explained that simply.

This woman was afraid of something.