Click. Click. Clack.
The sound was rhythmic, mechanical, and violent. Like a machine gun firing in a library.
It was the only sound in the room, cutting through the heavy, suffocating silence.
The room itself was a tomb. The blackout curtains were drawn tight, choking out the sun. The only source of illumination came from the dual monitors on the desk, casting a sickly, radioactive blue glow over the figure slumped in the chair.
And the smell?
The air didn't just smell; it had a physical presence. It was a vintage blend of stale sweat, three-day-old pizza crusts, and the metallic tang of cheap energy drinks. If depression had a scent, this was it.
In the center of this biohazard zone sat Kim Woojin.
He looked like a corpse that had been reanimated solely to play video games. His skin was pale as a sheet, his eyes were bloodshot maps of veins, and his dark hair looked like a bird's nest that had survived a hurricane.
Click. Click. SMASH.
"....Fuck!! No!"
Woojin roared, slamming his fist onto the desk. A tower of empty 'Thunder-Rush' cans collapsed, cascading onto the floor with a deafening rattle.
"This is bullshit! Absolute bullshit!"
He grabbed his hair, staring at the screen with eyes that hadn't blinked in feew minutes.
"Who designed this? Which sadistic developer woke up and chose violence? neither mana spells nor aura attacks work on it! It has a hitbox the size of a peanut and an attack range the size of Texas! How is anyone supposed to defeat such a monstrosity?"
He groaned, a long, pathetic sound, and let his head fall back against the headrest.
Kim Woojin.
27 years old.
Occupation: Unemployed.
Status: Existing, but not living.
If you saw him now—a skeleton of a man buried in trash—you wouldn't believe he used to be someone.
He used to be the pride of his family. Top of his class at a prestigious university. A high-paying corporate job lined up before graduation. He had friends. He had a future. He had a life that sparkled.
But life is a glitchy game with no save points.
One rainy night. One slippery road. One truck driver who fell asleep at the wheel.
His parents were gone in an instant.
The funeral passed in a blur of black suits and empty condolences. Woojin stood there, nodding, shaking hands, but inside, something had snapped.
Grief didn't come as a scream. It came as a fog.
He tried to return to his normal life. He really did. But the fog was too thick. Deadlines were missed. Meetings were skipped. He stopped answering calls. Eventually, he was fired.
He didn't fight it. He just… stopped.
He retreated into his apartment, locked the door, and decided that reality was too painful to deal with.
So, he found a new reality.
Video games.
In games, the rules were fair. If you put in the effort, you got the reward. If you died, you respawned. It was logical. It was safe.
And for the last Five years, his entire existence revolved around one specific title.
It started as a generic fantasy RPG. But thanks to its insane difficulty, flashy combat, and infinite content, it had become a global phenomenon.
Millions played it. Streamers screamed over it.
Some characters were "Meta"—overpowered gods that made the game a breeze. Others were "Trash Tier"—joke characters with stats so low that playing them was considered a form of psychological self-harm.
Woojin loved it.
He had climbed the ranks, grinding day and night, until he became one of the top players in the world.
And then, two days ago, the developers dropped a nuclear bomb on the player base.
The Next expansion.
Since the update finished downloading, Woojin hadn't moved. He had been playing for 48 hours straight. His blood was currently 90% caffeine and 10% sugar.
Why the rush?
Because of a single banner on the game's website:
[ To the first 15 players who clear the 'Any Ending' of Part 3: A Special Gift awaits. ]
A special gift.
For a normal person, it meant nothing. But for a shut-in gamer with nothing to lose? It was the Holy Grail.
But Part 3 was different.
It introduced the [ Fate System ].
Unlike previous chapters where the ending was fixed, Part 3 changed based on your choices. And the developers were cruel.
[ Fate is Absolute. ]
Once you picked a route, you were locked in. You couldn't reload a save file. You had to beat the final boss of that route to restart.
Most players—the unlucky 97%—were currently crying tears of blood.
They had all stumbled into the "Demon King Route."
The Demon King was a nightmare. He had four phases, immune to physical damage in phase two, and regenerated health in phase three, fourth phase is unknown. Nobody had beaten him yet. Every top streamer was currently raging, stuck in an endless loop of death.
But Woojin was built different.
Or rather, he was just lucky.
He had found a hidden dialogue option in the second act—something trivial about killing a stray cat—that diverted his path away from the Demon King.
Instead, he was facing the Dragon King.
[ The Monarch of Destruction ]
It was still hard. Insanely hard. But it was 'possible'.
For the past four hours, Woojin had been dancing with death.
He sat up straight, cracking his knuckles. The sound was like dry twigs snapping.
"Focus, Woojin. Do not blink. If you blink, you die."
He placed his hands on the keyboard.
"Round 42. Let's go."
Click.
The battle resumed.
On the screen, the Dragon King—a mass of obsidian scales and purple fire—roared. It breathed a torrent of flames that covered the entire arena.
Woojin's fingers blurred.
Tap. Tap. Roll.
His character, SS- Rank— Shadow Assassin, dove through the Shadows, taking zero damage. A golden text flashed:
[ PERFECT DODGE ].
"Gotcha," Woojin hissed, a manic grin spreading across his face.
He unleashed his combo.
Clack-clack-clack-SMASH.
The Dragon King roared, the speakers shaking the desk. The boss's health bar, which was once the size of a skyscraper, was now a tiny sliver of red.
[ 1% ]
"Die…" Woojin whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Just… die!"
The Dragon reared back for a final attack. If this hit, it was an instant kill. Game over. Start over.
Woojin didn't retreat. He didn't block.
He pressed [ F ].
[ Archetype : Shadow Execution ]
The screen flashed white. The sound of a blade slicing through heavy scales echoed through the room.
The Dragon froze.
Time seemed to stop.
Then, slowly, the massive beast began to disintegrate into particles of light.
[ VICTORY ]
Woojin stared at the screen.
His brain needed a second to process the information.
"...!!"
".... I-It's done!"
"I-I did it!!"
He threw his hands up in victory, nearly knocking over his monitor.
"I DEFEATED THE DRAGON KING!!!"
His voice cracked, sounding like a dying seagull, but he didn't care. He laughed, a breathless, hysterical sound.
"Finally! Take that, you oversized lizard! Humanity wins! I win!"
He slumped back into his chair, the adrenaline crash hitting him instantly. His limbs felt like jelly.
"I can sleep now! Oh god, sweet, sweet sleep."
Ding! ~
A cheerful chime interrupted his celebration.
[ Calculating clear ranking…. ]
Woojin cracked one eye open.
"Right. The ranking. Let's see where I placed. I wasted some time on the puzzle section… but the boss fight was flawless. At least Top 5? Maybe Top 6?"
The text swirled and solidified.
[ Clear Ranking Updated! ]
[ Rank 1st - Heavenly Shit Demon (07:49) ]
Woojin blinked.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
"Heavenly... Shit Demon?"
He let out a snort that turned into a laugh.
"Who the hell names themselves 'Heavenly Shit Demon'? And he cleared it in seven minutes and 49 seconds? What is he, a god of gaming or just a hacker?"
Imagine the history books of this fantasy world. 'And the world was saved by the great hero... Heavenly Shit Demon.'
The NPC villagers must have been so confused.
Woojin shook his head and scanned down the list.
[ Rank 2nd - Patriarch of Chuchu Sect ]
[ Rank 3rd - Legendary Doorkeeper ]
.
.
.
[ Rank 7th - Pudding Maker ]
"Rank 7th..."
Woojin's lips curled into a tired smile.
"Pudding Maker. Hah."
It was a username he had chosen five years ago because he was eating vanilla pudding while creating the account. It wasn't exactly intimidating. It didn't strike fear into the hearts of enemies.
But right now, seeing it on the leaderboard, it looked glorious.
"Rank 7th isn't bad. At least I made the Top 10. That makes me officially one of the elite."
He stretched his arms over his head, his spine popping like a string of firecrackers.
"Finally, I can be footloose and fancy-free."
He didn't even bother turning off the PC. He simply closed his eyes.
The darkness of the room seemed to embrace him. Within seconds, the frantic clicking of the keyboard was replaced by the soft, rhythmic sound of snoring.
———————————————————
Time passed.
The sun rose outside, but the heavy blackout curtains kept the room in eternal twilight.
Woojin woke up to the sound of his own stomach growling. It was a deep, angry sound, like a beast waking from hibernation.
"Ahh... Fuck."
He peeled his face off the sticky leather of the gaming chair. He felt gross. His mouth tasted like sandpaper and regret.
He squinted at the digital clock on the corner of his monitor.
11:34 AM.
"It's 11:34 AM already?"
He had slept for almost nine hours.
"I need food," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Real food. If I eat another instant noodle cup, I think my liver will actually file a lawsuit against me."
He reached for the mouse, intending to close the game and order a pizza.
Ding~
A notification sound chimed.
"Hmm? What now?"
Woojin paused. A new window had appeared over the game's main menu. It pulsed with a soft, golden light, looking very expensive.
"Ahh... right. I forgot about the reward."
He scratched his messy hair, sending a shower of dandruff onto his shoulders. "Top 15 rankers get a gift. I wonder what it is? A 'Congratulations' email? A coupon for 5% off their next game?"
He yawned. He didn't really care. He just wanted to clear the notification so he could close the program.
"Let's just check it and go eat."
He focused on the text box.
[ Thank you for playing
[ We have monitored your journey. Your dedication is impressive. ]
[ We would like to give you a special gift for achieving Rank 7th. ]
[ Would you like to accept the special gift? ]
Below the text, two buttons hovered.
[▷ Yes] [▷ No]
Woojin didn't hesitate.
Why would he? It was free stuff. Even if it was just a digital badge or a cosmetic skin for his character, he earned it.
He moved the cursor.
Click.
He pressed [Yes] .
"...?"
The moment his finger lifted from the mouse button, the atmosphere changed.
It wasn't a sound. It was a feeling.
The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, like the pressure had dropped before a hurricane. The hairs on his arms stood up.
"Huh?"
Then, the world tilted.
A sudden wave of vertigo slammed into him, hitting him harder than the truck that hit his parents. The room began to spin violently.
The blue light from the monitor seemed to stretch, twisting and distorting like liquid. It reached out, swallowing his vision.
"W-What the..."
His body felt weightless. The smell of old pizza and sweat vanished, replaced by the scent of ozone and... blood?
His consciousness began to fade, slipping away like sand through fingers.
"Ahh.... Shit."
Those were the last words he muttered.
"I didn't even get to order my pizza..."
His body went limp, collapsing out of the chair and thudding heavily onto the garbage-strewn floor.
The monitor flickered once.
And then—
Ding—!
[ Are you ready? ]
Then, everything went black.