Game
I had always loved games.
Back when I was little, the world was simple and games filled every spare moment.
I didn’t just enjoy them. I lived for them.
How many people actually hated games? None that I knew, but I took it to extremes.
In the nicest way possible, I was a gamer. In the harshest way, I was a gamer addict.
Worst case, I was a dopamine junkie.
Games always came with instant rewards.
They were the only thing that made it possible to survive the boring, terrifying reality of everyday life.
In this modern age, games were basically a necessity.
I never stuck to one genre.
RPGs, FPSs, roguelikes, strategy simulations, rhythm games, card games—anything that looked fun, I dove in.
I even reviewed games until the internet started calling me Hong Gil-dong behind my back.
The real problem? I didn’t discriminate against horror games either.
“Damn it… I should have avoided them.”
The sign appeared out of nowhere.
More precisely, I jumped in fright and slammed my forehead against the edge of the desk.
I should have known better than to mess around with a VR horror game. I had no idea it would be this bad.
The last thought before I died was one and only:
Ah, right. I have to delete that yagam.
***
I was reincarnated into a medieval era.
A fantasy world where swords and magic ruled.
In stark contrast, the environment pretended games only existed as chess and people getting killed.
“Making games? What’s that?”
“That’s why I’m alive.”
“…What?”
It was the way a thirsty man digs a well.