**Location:** Seoul — Lakeside Warehouse
**Local Time:** 10:48 AM
**Perspective:** Hakaijin/Ren Daiki
The city's neon lights were slowly fading as morning crept across Seoul's skyline. Through the converted warehouse's grimy windows, I could see the artificial lake's surface reflecting the blue-gray sky like a mirror of forgotten dreams. The water was peaceful, undisturbed by the chaos that constantly churned inside my chest.
I sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, staring at my own reflection captured in the cracked glass of my tablet's black screen. The meditation session had just ended—not out of any traditional practice my father would have approved of, but as a desperate attempt to calm the simmering anger that had been lurking beneath my skin for weeks.
My hoodie lay crumpled beside me, revealing arms still marked from yesterday's kendo session. Purple bruises decorated my forearms like abstract art, each one a reminder of strikes I'd blocked, parried, deflected. The tension in my shoulders felt permanent now, as if my body had forgotten how to relax.
A soft chime broke the silence. My tablet screen flickered to life:
**[Notification – Immersion Pod Ready]**
**➤ Recommended connection time: 4 hours**
**➤ Last save point: Phantom Sword Shrine**
I stared at the notification for a long moment, feeling the familiar pull of digital escape. In the real world, I was Ren Daiki—the heir, the perfect model son, the living embodiment of shame wrapped in silk expectations. But in Genesis...
I moved toward the pod slowly, like entering a dream I'd forbidden myself to live for too long. The cushioned interior welcomed me with its familiar embrace, sensors automatically adjusting to my body temperature and heart rate.
"Here, I am not Daiki the heir," I whispered to the empty warehouse, my voice barely audible above the hum of processing units. "Nor the perfect model. Nor the son of shame."
I closed my eyes as the neural interface activated, feeling the gentle tingling that preceded full immersion.
"Here... I am Hakaijin."
**[Connecting to the ORIAS system...]**
The familiar loading sequence began, reality dissolving into streams of data and possibility. For a brief moment, I existed in the liminal space between worlds—neither fully human nor fully digital, but something in between.
**Welcome, Hakaijin.**
**Spawn Area: Murim — Foothills of the Dark Lake**
**Level: 6**
**Class: Warrior — Broken Blade**
**Status: Element Awakened**
---
The cold seized me immediately as Genesis materialized around me. The damp ground beneath my feet, the low foliage brushing against my legs, the stagnant mist that clung to everything like ghostly fingers—all of it felt more real than the warehouse I'd just left behind.
The scenery had changed since my last login. I was no longer in the ordinary forests of Murim, but on the shores of a black, crystalline lake. Ancient paper lanterns hung from twisted trees, their soft light barely penetrating the perpetual twilight that shrouded this place.
**"Secondary Area Detected — Dark Lake: Forgotten Meditation Site"**
My saber vibrated at my belt, responding to the area's spiritual energy. The weapon had been growing stronger with each fragment I collected, but it still felt incomplete, like a song missing its final verse.
**New quest available: "Inner Fracture"**
I dismissed the alert without reading the details. I wasn't here for XP or loot or the endless progression that drove most players. I was here to breathe. To exist without apology or explanation.
I walked toward a moss-covered stone arch that stood at the water's edge like a forgotten gateway. The structure was ancient even by Genesis standards, carved with symbols that seemed to shift and writhe when I wasn't looking directly at them.
I knelt on the smooth stone, placing my hands on my knees in the meditation posture I'd learned in a dozen different dojos. But here, away from watching eyes and measuring gazes, the position felt natural instead of performed.
For the first time in weeks, I closed my eyes and felt the pain inside begin to ebb.
---
The memory hit me like a physical blow, dragging me back to this morning's confrontation.
*"Ren." My father's voice had cut through the morning silence like a blade. "We need to talk."*
*I'd been preparing for school, adjusting my uniform in the mirror of our family's traditional home. Every surface gleamed with careful maintenance, every object placed with deliberate precision. The house itself was a monument to control.*
*"Yes, Father." I'd turned to face him, automatically straightening my shoulders, smoothing my expression into the mask of respectful attention he expected.*
*He'd stood in the doorway, still wearing his business suit despite the early hour. His graying hair was perfectly styled, his posture rigid with the authority he'd cultivated over decades of corporate warfare.*
*"The Nakamura family has extended an invitation for you to attend their daughter's birthday celebration next week. You will accept."*
*Not a request. Never a request.*
*"Of course, Father."*
*"Furthermore, I've arranged for you to participate in the regional kendo tournament next month. The Daiki name needs to be represented appropriately."*
*Each word had landed like a stone thrown into still water, creating ripples of obligation that spread outward into every corner of my future.*
*"I understand."*
*"Good." He'd paused then, studying my face with the calculating gaze of a man who'd built his fortune on reading people's weaknesses. "You carry more than just your own reputation, Ren. The weight of our family name, our legacy, our honor—all of it rests on your shoulders."*
*I'd smiled then. The perfect smile I'd practiced since childhood, bright and eager and completely hollow.*
*"I won't disappoint you, Father."*
*But deep down, beneath the polished surface of compliance, I'd been screaming. Not at him—I'd never had the courage for that—but at my own inability to say no. At the prison of expectations that had shaped me since birth. At the suffocating weight of a name that felt more like a collar than a gift.*
---
I opened my eyes, returning to the shores of the Dark Lake. The memory faded, but its echo remained, a familiar ache that had driven me to this digital sanctuary in the first place.
I stood slowly, my hand moving to the hilt of my saber. The weapon hummed with latent power, responding to my emotional state. In the real world, I was trapped by tradition, by duty, by the crushing weight of inherited responsibility. But here...
An alert flashed across my vision:
**"Presence of players detected nearby: conflict zone open."**
I smiled—not the practiced expression I wore for my father, but something genuine and sharp. Three figures emerged from the mist, their weapons drawn, their intentions clear. PvP hunters, probably drawn by the rare quest marker that must have appeared when I entered this area.
"Finally," I murmured, drawing my blade in one fluid motion. "I'm ready."
Not for honor. Not for glory. Not for the approval of anyone watching.
But because here, in this digital world where physics bent to will and strength was measured in conviction rather than bloodline, I needed no permission to exist.
The first attacker rushed forward, his heavy sword cleaving through the air where my head had been a moment before. I flowed around his strike like water, my blade finding the gap in his armor with surgical precision. He dissolved into pixels and light, his death notification scrolling past my peripheral vision.
The second player was more cautious, circling me with twin daggers while her companion prepared a spell. I could see the calculation in their movements, the way they positioned themselves to exploit my apparent isolation.
They didn't understand that I wasn't alone. I was complete.
I activated my movement technique, blurring across the ground in a series of rapid strikes. My saber sang as it cut through the air, each swing precise and purposeful. These weren't the hesitant, measured attacks I'd been taught in the dojo. This was pure expression, unfiltered by expectation or judgment.
The fight was over in seconds. The players respawned at their home shrine, probably confused by the intensity of their defeat. I stood alone on the ancient stones, my blade still humming with residual energy.
**"Victory achieved. Experience gained: 450 XP"**
But the numbers didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling—the intoxicating rush of being exactly who I was meant to be, even if that person could only exist in a world of data and dreams.
I sheathed my saber and walked to the water's edge, looking out across the black surface. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. More players, drawn by the commotion. More opportunities to prove that Hakaijin was more than just an escape from Ren Daiki's suffocating reality.
He was the person I became when all the masks were stripped away.
A new notification appeared:
**[Upcoming Event: Heroes' Tournament - Registration Opening Soon]**
**"Face the greatest warriors Genesis has ever seen. Prove your worth among legends."**
I read the message twice, feeling something stir in my chest—not the familiar anger or frustration, but something else. Anticipation. Purpose.
"A tournament," I said to the empty lake. "Perfect."
For the first time in months, I felt truly alive.
In the real world, I was trapped by a name I'd never chosen, bound by expectations I'd never agreed to carry. But in Genesis, I would forge my own legend. I would prove that strength came not from birthright or tradition, but from the courage to be authentically, unapologetically yourself.
The mist began to clear as I made my way back toward the main path. Other players were already gathering, their excited chatter filling the air as news of the tournament spread. They saw me as just another competitor, another obstacle in their path to digital glory.
They had no idea they were looking at someone who had everything to prove and nothing left to lose.
As I walked, I felt the weight of invisible chains begin to loosen. Not break—I wasn't naive enough to think one moment of clarity could shatter years of conditioning. But loosen enough to let me breathe, to let me remember what it felt like to make my own choices.
The tournament couldn't come soon enough.
---
**✦ End of Chapter 19**
**Next: Chapter 20 - First Steps, New Paths**