"Brother, you can't do this anymore. You're almost at six hours straight."
Baek Ilwoo's fingers froze on the mouse, his character's spell animation hanging in mid-cast on the glowing monitor.
His elder sister Baek Sena stood in the doorway like a ghost, arms crossed, wearing that particular expression that meant another lecture about 'game addiction' and 'adult responsibilities' was incoming.
"Don't worry, I only need one more hour," Baek Ilwoo mumbled, already moving the mouse cursor back toward the skill bar.
"One hour, my ass. You said that same thing an hour ago."
The cursor stopped. Ilwoo's shoulders sagged as he finally turned around in his gaming chair, the worn leather creaking under his weight.
Sena's reflection caught in his monitor—twenty-six, professional, everything their parents had dreamed their children would become. Well, at least one of them had turned out right.
"Look, I'm in the middle of a crucial raid. The guild is depending on..."
"The guild?" Sena stepped into the room, kicking aside an empty energy drink can.
"Ilwoo, you're twenty-four. Don't you think it's time to depend on something real for once?"
He spun back to face the screen where his guild members were already typing in the chat box.
[DarkSlayer99]: Yo Ilwoo, where'd you go?
[HealMePlease]: We're gonna wipe if our main DPS leaves.
[TankGod]: Just give us 10 more minutes, we're almost got the boss.
"See? They need me." Ilwoo gestured at the screen. "I can't just abandon them in the middle of a fight."
Sena moved closer, close enough that he could smell her expensive perfume mixed with the lingering scent of office coffee.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, but not roughly, but firm enough that he couldn't shrug it off.
"Ilwoo..." Her voice dropped to that tone she used when she was trying to be understanding instead of angry. Somehow, that made it worse.
"When was the last time you left this apartment?"
The question hung in the air like a debuff he couldn't dispel. Ilwoo's eyes darted around the room—empty food containers, blackout curtains, the calendar on his desk still showing last month.
"I went to the convenience store on..."
"That was two weeks ago. For instant ramen."
The raid chat was exploding now. His guild leader had joined in, using those carefully diplomatic phrases that meant 'get your shit together or find a new guild.'
[GuildMaster_Jin]: Ilwoo, we understand if you need to step away. Just let us know so we can find a replacement.
A replacement.
The words hit harder than they should have. In the game, he was a One-of-a-kind Player, the legendary DPS who could pull off combos that made other players record videos just to figure out how he did it.
Out here, in the real world that Sena insisted on bringing up, he was just another unemployed college dropout living off his sister's charity.
"They'll be fine without me for one night," he said, but his fingers didn't move toward the logout button.
"Will they?" Sena sat on the edge of his untidy bed, her work skirt wrinkling.
"Or will they find someone else who can actually show up Relentlessly?"
The cursor hovered over the X button. One click and his character would disappear, leaving his guild to figure out the boss mechanics without their main damage dealer.
They'd probably blame him. Probably replace him with someone who didn't have a sister standing in their room asking uncomfortable questions about daily life.
"You know what Mom said before she passed, right?" Sena's voice was quieter now.
Ilwoo's hand tightened on the mouse. Of course, she'd bring up Mom. Their mother's last coherent words before the cancer took her.
"Take care of each other," her last words echoed in his mind like a ghost since she passed away.
"She didn't mean I should babysit you forever, Ilwoo. She meant we should both become people worth taking care of."
On screen, his guild had given up waiting. The raid was disbanded.
His character stood alone in the empty dungeon, surrounded by the pixel corpses of monsters that would respawn in exactly twelve hours.
"What if I can't?" The words came out smaller than he thought, "What if this is all I'm good at?"
Sena's hand found his shoulder again. This time, he didn't try to pull away.
"Then you figure out how to be good at something else. But first, you have to try."
The monitor's glow painted everything in blues and whites, making the messy room look like some underwater cave where time had stopped.
Ilwoo stared at his character—level 89, legendary gear, skills that had taken two years to perfect. In three months, when the game servers shut down for the sequel, none of it would matter.
His finger moved to the power button.
"Wait." The word escaped before he could stop it. "Just... let me save my progress."
Sena's eyebrows rose. "You can save progress in an online game? Right?"
"No." Ilwoo's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile. "That's kind of the problem, isn't it?"
The logout screen appeared, asking if he was sure he wanted to disconnect.
Below it, a small notification blinked:
[System Message: Server maintenance scheduled for tomorrow. All progress will be preserved.]
All progress will be preserved.
He clicked confirm.
The screen went black, reflecting his face back at him—pale, thin, eyes that looked older than twenty-four. Behind his reflection, Sena was already moving around the room, pulling open curtains he'd forgotten existed.
"Shower first ..." she said, removing the curtain of his room, and actual sunlight began filtering through the windows.
"Then we're going to find a job for you."
"Can I at least—"
"Shower. First."
"Fine!" He mumbled, looking at the window that opened.
The sunlight hurt his eyes, but he didn't close the curtains. Maybe it was time to get used to things that hurt a little if they were supposed to be good for you.
As he stood up, his legs wobbled from sitting too long. When was the last time he'd felt his body existing as something more than just a delivery system for his hands to reach the keyboard?
"Sena?"
She paused in gathering his dirty laundry. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for not giving up on me."
Her smile was small but real. "Mom didn't raise quitters. Either of us."
Ilwoo walked toward the bathroom; each step felt strange. Behind him, his computer's fans wound down into silence for the first time in weeks. The room felt different without the constant electronic hum.
For once, it felt like someone actually lived here.
He turned the shower handle and waited for the water to warm up, watching steam begin to fog the mirror.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he didn't have like her sister he would still be playing games and raids with name-only friends that he never saw their faces and stay in his room for years.
For moment, he grateful that he has a family.