Chapter 175: Choice (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 175: Choice (3)
In Hansu's room was a double-sized bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a computer.
I turned the computer on first and entered the chat room.
[Long Live Korea's independence - 0 people are online.]
This was the same guy who thought I was dead just for logging in a few minutes late.
And we only have an hour together too.
Since something rather big had happened recently, I planned on getting as much information out of Baekho as possible.
I got here first today.
Before I could even sit down on the sofa in the spacious room full of antique furniture, Baekho logged in after me. Nothing out of the ordinary up to that point. "Bro!" But what was this? Just one look at his face and I could tell he was in a hurry. "I'm in battle right now, so I have to leave right away."
"What?"
"I don't have time to explain."
"Wait—"
"You heard about the war of conquest, right? Don't join it under any circumstances, even in the future. I'm just here to tell you that."
"What do you m—"
"See you next month!"
That was the end of our conversation. After only a few seconds of showing his face, Baekho disappeared in a flash.
"What the...?" For a moment, my mind went blank. But if I sat down and thought this through... He was in battle?
One hour in the community was one second in reality. If he felt he had to leave in such a hurry, that meant that he must be fighting a strong enemy. One second in here would only be 0.02 seconds out there, which indicated that he felt he couldn't waste even a short moment like that.
What the hell is he fighting against?
I didn't know. Just one thing was for certain—that he was closely related to the conquest of Noark.
This punk, is he in the underground city?
It was late at night and we were not in the labyrinth, but he was fighting an enemy? No other possible explanations came to mind. It was only yesterday that the Rafdonian army had headed off to war. From the alliance between the king's army and the adventurers to the battalion of paladins sent by the temple, the sight of them entering the sewers in formation had been quite a spectacle.
And his last words... must mean he believes the conquest will fail?
He told me not to join under any circumstances. I took this to mean that he thought that the first conquest would fail and a second army would be formed.
Ugh, this is so frustrating...
I wouldn't get anything out of being here so I went back to my room. There were three hours left until the Watchers of the Round Table opened. With nothing to do, I started surfing the web. First, I checked the Exchange, then poked around the chat rooms that had no entry restrictions. They were all the same. Everyone was talking about the conquest of Noark.
...It's already chaos down there.
The number of players who were participating in the takeover was many.
"I'm in the back so I can't really tell but things aren't looking good at all. I keep hearing explosions at the front but the fucking commander won't tell us anything..."
"Why are there so few soldiers today? Are they all dead?"
Based on what they were saying, it seemed that even at this moment, a fierce battle was unfolding underground. I honestly couldn't even imagine how intense things were there, especially after reading the posts on the community bulletin board.
[I'm about to die. Taking questions.]
I was stabbed in the neck, but when I opened my eyes, I was here. I'll be alive for twelve seconds, right? Fuck this.
EdwardBless77: I hope this isn't an eternal dream. I hope you wake up in your home.
└OP: I really hope so.
godFLEXyou: You did well. Get some rest.
└OP: Thanks for your compassion.
StevenCastle: I guess you were with a frontline unit. I heard it's a living hell there right now. Have you run into anyone from Orcules?
└OP: I don't know. I heard someone shout that something arrived but I don't remember. Maybe they saw wrong. We couldn't see a yard ahead of us thanks to those fucking dark wizards.
Teckmonkey: What do you want to do most?
└OP: Breed.
└Teckmonkey: Oh, um... I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.
Tunaboot: Where are you from?
└OP: I don't know where you're asking about. On Earth, Canada. Here, Aribeten Clan. I was executive level.
└Tunaboot: Of course I meant hometown. But Aribeten executive? You were a big man.
└OP: Doesn't matter now that I'm about to die. Goodbye.
└Ionboii: Wow, if you're revealing this much information, I guess you're not a troll. I sincerely hope you rest in peace. Good work. And just ignore the idiots saying garbage above.
There were dozens more under that too. Even as the comments piled up, the original poster answered each one. As if in a trance, I read through all the comments and made one myself.
Elfnunna: Why are you giving up already? You should be trying to log out and live out this moment.
As long as you didn't give up, there was still a chance. Although the possibility may be infinitely small, it still wasn't zero yet. I was proof of that. But after posting that, I realized it might sound rude, so I added an explanation.
└Elfnunna: I've been stabbed in the neck, too, and entered a countdown state like in the game. But my body still moved. I finally killed my opponent and just barely survived. So why don't you try that too?
With my experience in the Land of the Dead and Bloody Citadel, I wanted to give this stranger hope.
└OP: I know what you mean. But I'm an archer. I won't be able to use the method you mentioned.
The answer that came back was one of complete resignation.
└Elfnunna: Can you give it a try, though?
I commented in that same trance. The answer came back quickly.
└OP: Sorry, if I have to die anyway, I want to die as myself. Not in this cursed body, but as my parents' child.
My mind went blank as soon as I saw that. I took my hands off the keyboard. What could I possibly say here? That even if that were the case, this wasn't his real body? That it was just a manifestation of his inner self? Well, no one could question the poster's decision. They shouldn't, either.
Without thinking, I turned to stare at the armoire. Or, to be more precise, at the mirror hanging next to it. I saw Hansu Lee.
Type, type.
[I'm about to die. Taking questions.]
I was stabbed in the neck, but when I opened my eyes, I was here. I'll be alive for twelve seconds, right? Fuck this.
EdwardBless77: I hope this isn't an eternal dream. I hope you wake up in your home.
└OP: I really hope so.
godFLEXyou: You did well. Get some rest.
└OP: Thanks for your compassion.
StevenCastle: I guess you were with a frontline unit. I heard it's a living hell there right now. Have you run into anyone from Orcules?
└OP: I don't know. I heard someone shout that something arrived but I don't remember. Maybe they saw wrong. We couldn't see a yard ahead of us thanks to those fucking dark wizards.
Teckmonkey: What do you want to do most?
└OP: Breed.
└Teckmonkey: Oh, um... I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.
Tunaboot: Where are you from?
└OP: I don't know where you're asking about. On Earth, Canada. Here, Aribeten Clan. I was executive level.
└Tunaboot: Of course I meant hometown. But Aribeten executive? You were a big man.
└OP: Doesn't matter now that I'm about to die. Goodbye.
└Ionboii: Wow, if you're revealing this much information, I guess you're not a troll. I sincerely hope you rest in peace. Good work. And just ignore the idiots saying garbage above.
There were dozens more under that too. Even as the comments piled up, the original poster answered each one. As if in a trance, I read through all the comments and made one myself.
Elfnunna: Why are you giving up already? You should be trying to log out and live out this moment.
As long as you didn't give up, there was still a chance. Although the possibility may be infinitely small, it still wasn't zero yet. I was proof of that. But after posting that, I realized it might sound rude, so I added an explanation.
└Elfnunna: I've been stabbed in the neck, too, and entered a countdown state like in the game. But my body still moved. I finally killed my opponent and just barely survived. So why don't you try that too?
With my experience in the Land of the Dead and Bloody Citadel, I wanted to give this stranger hope.
└OP: I know what you mean. But I'm an archer. I won't be able to use the method you mentioned.
The answer that came back was one of complete resignation.
└Elfnunna: Can you give it a try, though?
I commented in that same trance. The answer came back quickly.
└OP: Sorry, if I have to die anyway, I want to die as myself. Not in this cursed body, but as my parents' child.
My mind went blank as soon as I saw that. I took my hands off the keyboard. What could I possibly say here? That even if that were the case, this wasn't his real body? That it was just a manifestation of his inner self? Well, no one could question the poster's decision. They shouldn't, either.
Without thinking, I turned to stare at the armoire. Or, to be more precise, at the mirror hanging next to it. I saw Hansu Lee.
Type, type.
I began typing again. I hope you rest in peace and I hope you wake up in the real world—I typed and deleted consolations like these repeatedly but I couldn't bring myself to press Enter.
Type, type.
Even while I was slamming on the keyboard, unable to send anything, players continued to add comments and the OP answered each one.
Branbran_Helmet: Fucking garbage flop game.
└OP: Ikr, this fucking garbage flop game!
After that comment, there were no more. I hit refresh. Before I knew it, the OP's nickname at the top went blurry. That meant he was dead.
I didn't know why. I didn't know his face, and I'd never talked to him in person, but my heart beat wildly.
Thump, thump.
I'd seen death countless times since waking up in this world. The weight of it felt heavier today, though. Why was that?
Drag.
As if in search of the answer, I scrolled up and read it all over again from the top. Thanks to all the people who had asked about his real self, it was possible to get a glimpse into this person's life.
Drag.
He was from Canada. Born into a family of farmers, his real name was Mac Davis. His first kiss had been at seventeen... with his girlfriend's best friend? He seemed like an oddball, but he hadn't done anything in his life worth getting killed over.
Drag.
His dream had been to be a veterinarian. Seeing his childhood dog choke on its vomit had been the catalyst for that. But because he didn't have the brains for it, he failed. He ended up helping his parents with their farm work and occasionally played games.
Drag.
Yes, he was a normal person, moderately nice, but occasionally remembered as a bad person to some... an ordinary human being no matter how you looked at it.
Drag.
Soon, I stopped scrolling at one particular spot. I saw that there was a new comment below mine.
└OP: I keep thinking about what you said. Somehow, I get the sense that you're a strong person. I hope you can clear this game and return home. Of course, that's your choice, though.
He had left words of encouragement for me while I was repeatedly typing out and erasing those few sentences of condolence. I could feel how thoughtful this person was by his use of the word "choice."
Type, type.
I typed out a new comment on the keyboard, although he wouldn't be able to see it now.
└Elfnunna: If I go back, I'll be sure to write a letter to the address you wrote above.
└Elfnunna: You worked hard.
Leaving behind meaningless comments, I left the post. Then I lay in bed for a while and let my mind wander in a daze. Time seemed to slip by.
Soon there were only three minutes left until the deadline to enter the Watchers of the Round Table. But what was this?
Creak.
As I rushed in, I found the room was empty. Crescent Moon, Goblin, Fox, Deer, and Clown were not here. I was the only one seated at the round table.
Did they all join the conquest?
No other explanation came to mind. Three hours in the community was only three seconds outside. What could be keeping them from spending those three seconds here?
I didn't think I'd be ditched here too...
After Baekho, I'd been left alone once again. I didn't even have time to be disappointed—my surroundings flashed and when I came to, I was back in my room.
[Minimum number of participants has not been met. This meeting has ended.]
A message floated on the monitor. So this was what happened if the entry deadline passed without enough participants. With that, the value of participating in the community today vanished.
Still, I should look around before I leave.
In the end, I had no choice but to surf the web and read through trivial news. Time passed like that and the time came to log off.
[You have been transported to Rafdonia.]
The familiar room and body of Bjorn felt a little unfamiliar today. Was I just tired?
Just go to sleep.
I cleared my head and lay down on the bed.
Creak.
As always, the bed caved in with a groan. Thus, another day came to an end.
Three days later, the troops that had headed for Noark returned. "Bjorn! C-Come out quickly! The army has returned from underrrground!"
Only about a third of them had survived. Soldiers passed us by on the street silently and with sinking shoulders. That was enough to tell us how things had gone.
It really failed.
Things were getting messy.
I began typing again. I hope you rest in peace and I hope you wake up in the real world—I typed and deleted consolations like these repeatedly but I couldn't bring myself to press Enter.
Type, type.
Even while I was slamming on the keyboard, unable to send anything, players continued to add comments and the OP answered each one.
Branbran_Helmet: Fucking garbage flop game.
└OP: Ikr, this fucking garbage flop game!
After that comment, there were no more. I hit refresh. Before I knew it, the OP's nickname at the top went blurry. That meant he was dead.
I didn't know why. I didn't know his face, and I'd never talked to him in person, but my heart beat wildly.
Thump, thump.
I'd seen death countless times since waking up in this world. The weight of it felt heavier today, though. Why was that?
Drag.
As if in search of the answer, I scrolled up and read it all over again from the top. Thanks to all the people who had asked about his real self, it was possible to get a glimpse into this person's life.
Drag.
He was from Canada. Born into a family of farmers, his real name was Mac Davis. His first kiss had been at seventeen... with his girlfriend's best friend? He seemed like an oddball, but he hadn't done anything in his life worth getting killed over.
Drag.
His dream had been to be a veterinarian. Seeing his childhood dog choke on its vomit had been the catalyst for that. But because he didn't have the brains for it, he failed. He ended up helping his parents with their farm work and occasionally played games.
Drag.
Yes, he was a normal person, moderately nice, but occasionally remembered as a bad person to some... an ordinary human being no matter how you looked at it.
Drag.
Soon, I stopped scrolling at one particular spot. I saw that there was a new comment below mine.
└OP: I keep thinking about what you said. Somehow, I get the sense that you're a strong person. I hope you can clear this game and return home. Of course, that's your choice, though.
He had left words of encouragement for me while I was repeatedly typing out and erasing those few sentences of condolence. I could feel how thoughtful this person was by his use of the word "choice."
Type, type.
I typed out a new comment on the keyboard, although he wouldn't be able to see it now.
└Elfnunna: If I go back, I'll be sure to write a letter to the address you wrote above.
└Elfnunna: You worked hard.
Leaving behind meaningless comments, I left the post. Then I lay in bed for a while and let my mind wander in a daze. Time seemed to slip by.
Soon there were only three minutes left until the deadline to enter the Watchers of the Round Table. But what was this?
Creak.
As I rushed in, I found the room was empty. Crescent Moon, Goblin, Fox, Deer, and Clown were not here. I was the only one seated at the round table.
Did they all join the conquest?
No other explanation came to mind. Three hours in the community was only three seconds outside. What could be keeping them from spending those three seconds here?
I didn't think I'd be ditched here too...
After Baekho, I'd been left alone once again. I didn't even have time to be disappointed—my surroundings flashed and when I came to, I was back in my room.
[Minimum number of participants has not been met. This meeting has ended.]
A message floated on the monitor. So this was what happened if the entry deadline passed without enough participants. With that, the value of participating in the community today vanished.
Still, I should look around before I leave.
In the end, I had no choice but to surf the web and read through trivial news. Time passed like that and the time came to log off.
[You have been transported to Rafdonia.]
The familiar room and body of Bjorn felt a little unfamiliar today. Was I just tired?
Just go to sleep.
I cleared my head and lay down on the bed.
Creak.
As always, the bed caved in with a groan. Thus, another day came to an end.
Three days later, the troops that had headed for Noark returned. "Bjorn! C-Come out quickly! The army has returned from underrrground!"
Only about a third of them had survived. Soldiers passed us by on the street silently and with sinking shoulders. That was enough to tell us how things had gone.
It really failed.
Things were getting messy.