Five months later—
Gangjin, South Korea — Year 2100
The dingy apartment smelled like rot.
Stale beer cans stacked by the wall. Half-eaten takeout cartons sagged on the counter, their sauces dried to crust. The air purifier in the corner blinked red—filters long dead.
Shin Jin Young lay stretched on the battered couch, one arm draped over his eyes, half-listening to the holoscreen flickering in the dark.
"...global temperature models now confirm a 2.3°C rise since the mid-21st century... coastal cities facing historic floods... scientists warn..."
He barely registered the words.
Instead, his mind repeatedly wandered.
To the sharp sting of the inheritance lawyers' words: All assets transferred to Myra Corp.
To the funeral—public, clinical, watched by media drones.
To the whispers from so-called friends, the pity in their eyes that burned worse than scorn.
In a matter of weeks, Shin Jin Young had gone from the billionaire heir to the son of a scandal—the "tragic orphan," the ruined prodigy, the kid who lost everything.
All he had left was this crumbling apartment and the million-credits in a personal savings account—money he had once planned to invest, maybe launch his own tech startup.
Instead, he spent months drinking it away, rotting in guilt, grief, and fury.
The holoscreen crackled, changing streams.
"Only one week until the global launch of ReLife, the world's most advanced full-immersion VRMMORPG! With Myra Corp's patented 'Opera' AI system, players can experience up to 98% neural sync— indistinguishable from real life. Pre-order your Crash pod now!"
Jin Young's head jerked up slightly.
For the first time in months, something pierced through the fog in his mind.
ReLife.
The project his parents had spent ten years building.
The game that wasn't just a game.
Unlike what his parents believed before their passing, he already knew the truth—the hidden purpose, the apocalyptic clock ticking behind the scenes. While the world treated it as the ultimate entertainment, Jin Young knew ReLife was humanity's lifeboat.
Someone from his previous circle of friends—another tycoon's heir—had exhausted his mouth as he rambled on and on about the supposed secrets of Myra.
Most had dismissed him as a conspiracy theorist. Only Jin Young had felt the puzzle pieces in his head falling in place.
His mother's hesitation, his father's guilt... everytime their eyes darted around at the mention of the game. It was no coincidence.
His heart pounded.
If he could rise to the top inside the game… if he could seize the power his parents had hidden there… maybe he could uncover the truth about their deaths.
Maybe, he thought, I can find the people who took them from me.
The idea sank its claws into him, a sudden, burning clarity.
He shot upright, blinking away the haze.
"I need the best pod."
Two hours later, Jin Young stood under the neon glow of the Myra flagship store.
Inside, rows upon rows of gleaming VR pods filled the showroom. Holographic panels hovered above each one, flashing specs and price tags.
A cheerful sales associate approached, her synthetic smile perfectly tuned.
"Good evening, sir! Looking for a pod today?"
"I want the Crash V3," Jin Young said bluntly.
The woman blinked, just slightly thrown off. "Ah… the premium unit. Are you sure? It's quite an investment. Maybe you'd like to look at our entry-level line first?"
Jin Young nodded, jaw tight. He couldn't blame the woman.
Unkempt hair, an overgrown beard, clothes riddled with stains, the sharp smell of whiskey...
He was lucky she was even talking to him.
"Explain the difference."
She brightened up, shifting smoothly into her pitch.
"Well, we have the basic line, starting at just 8,000 credits — the Spark LX model. It offers 65% neural sync — quite decent for casual players!
But keep in mind, it doesn't have an integrated nutrition system, so your playtime is capped at 6–8 hours before you need to log out for physical rest and feeding."
Jin Young frowned slightly.
"What about the Crash series?"
"Ah, well, that's the top tier. The Crash V3 offers up to 98% sync — nearly full-immersion, near-total sensory mapping, indistinguishable from real life. You can play continuously for up to 100 hours thanks to its in-built nutrient delivery system, hydration, and waste processing.
It's designed for competitive players, streamers, and hardcore raiders. But, of course, it comes at a premium — 850,000 credits."
Jin Young exhaled slowly. That was almost everything he had.
But if he wanted to go all in, if he wanted to dominate the game, he couldn't afford to start with a cheap unit. The basic pods' time limits and lagging neural sync would hold him back, cost him precious hours, dull his reactions.
He needed the best.
He needed every possible advantage.
"Crash V3," Jin Young repeated firmly. "Run the purchase."
The sales associate hesitated just a beat before nodding. "Of course, sir."
Delivery scheduled in 48 hours.
Jin Young walked home under the blinking city lights, his heart hammering, mind racing.
He had just gambled almost everything on this.
His savings were gone. His reputation was gone. His family was gone.
All he had left was the game.
I can't fail, he thought grimly. Not this time.
When the delivery bots arrived two days later, the neighbors peeked through cracked doors, murmuring. The delivery crew were stunned at the sight of his poor accommodation.
How did a dirtbag like him manage to afford a game pod that cost nearly a million?
Their shock turned to contemptuous chuckles, as they shot him sideway glances.
"Damn," one of them snickered under his breath, "guess rich kids really do sell their souls for pixels, huh?"
His two teammates muffled their laughter.
Jin Young said nothing.
He watched silently as they installed the pod, signed the confirmation, and left.
When the door closed behind them, he turned to the gleaming silver capsule, heart pounding.
This was it.
Jin Young spent the next two days preparing.
He stocked up on food — noodles, jerky, freeze-dried fruits, water bottles.
He dumped the whiskey bottles into the sink, listening to the glug-glug as golden liquid splashed down the drain. Beer cans followed, clattering into the recycling bin.
He wiped down counters, vacuumed, sprayed the air filters, swapped dead purifiers for fresh ones.
By the second night, his apartment looked half-decent. Clean, fresh, minimal.
Jin Young was somewhat satisfied. Less at the appearance of his living space, and more at the fact that he had managed to accomplish these tasks without giving up.
On the night before launch, Jin Young climbed into the pod, feeling the smooth synthetic lining mold to his body.
The system hummed softly, scanning his vitals, verifying his DNA.
"Welcome, Shin Jin Young."
{ReLife server connection established}
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
A faint chime sounded.
[New Message Received]
Jin Young's brows furrowed.
Sender: Anonymous
Subject: I know who killed your parents.
Do you want revenge?
Will you do anything to get it?
Two glowing options appeared before his eyes: YES / NO
His mouth went dry.
His pulse thundered.
He tried to exit the screen and find the sender's address.
{The person has chosen to remain anonymous. Information can not be extracted}
Jin Young stared at the pop-up, then brushed it aside. His eyes shifted back to the previous message.
Minutes passed, before he finally reacted.
With a trembling breath, Jin Young reached out — and selected YES.
Agony.
Blinding, searing, skull-shattering agony ripped through his mind.
It felt like a tidal wave of data, code, information crashing into his brain: skill trees, hidden mechanics, NPC patterns, quest chains, crafting formulas — knowledge no ordinary player could ever have.
He screamed until his voice broke, thrashing against the pod restraints as the upload continued.
Minutes blurred into hours.
Finally, with a shuddering gasp, the pain receded.
Jin Young collapsed back, soaked in sweat, his chest heaving.
If it weren't for the soundproofing of Crash V3, he might have woken up in a hospital, or the asylum.
Jin Young forced himself to crawl out of the pod, grabbing desperately at the water bottles he'd set aside. He drank three in a row, his throat raw, his body shaking, eyes burning red.
His mind spun wildly, sparks of understanding flashing through his thoughts.
I know the game.
I know how to win.
Even if the technology that had just rewired his brain was beyond any possible logic or comprehension… even if the sender of that message turned out to be an enemy disguised as an ally… none of it mattered right now.
He had been given a weapon.
And he would use it.