The moment I opened my eyes, my stomach churned.
The nauseous feeling, as if I might vomit at any second, made me hurry to sit up.
I didn't even have time to register the soft texture of the blanket in my hands. I stumbled out of bed but collapsed to the floor after just a few steps, my legs giving out. I desperately pushed myself up from the ground, but the queasiness showed no signs of letting up.
"Hah!"
I should just let it out instead of holding it back.
With that thought, I retched, but all that came were tears and drool—nothing else. To make matters worse, a high-pitched ringing started in my ears, and a chilling shiver swept over me, making my body tremble uncontrollably. The anxiety that I might die right then and there was overwhelming, but I told myself, It's okay, it's okay. Fortunately, after some time passed, my condition began to improve bit by bit. What a relief.
"Haa! Haa..."
As I exhaled roughly, the ringing faded, and the nausea subsided significantly.
I could finally grasp the situation.
'Where am I?'
I scanned my surroundings through tear-blurred vision, but no matter how I looked at it, this wasn't my home.
The place was filled with wooden houses and furniture, with not a single machine in sight, even if I searched with fresh eyes.
Amid it all, there was one stand emitting light on its own.
I crawled toward it and reached out a hand.
It felt warm, but there was no bulb, and no power cord either. What principle or power source made this light?
'...'
It was too vivid to be a dream.
I glanced at the drool I'd left on the floor, then stood up and sat back on the bed, lost in thought.
Figuring out where this was could wait.
What mattered was why I was here—and how.
I slowly started retracing my memories.
'I was definitely on the computer...'
More precisely, playing a game. An RPG I'd made myself.
There wasn't any special reason I started making an RPG.
I just had nothing to play, so I created and played one that satisfied me.
As science advanced, countless games flooded the market, but players wanted more than what the progressing games offered.
Naturally, game companies couldn't keep up with those demands.
Even with highly anticipated releases, shady players would hunt for bugs and exploit them, and companies faced unpredictable incidents that blew up.
While many players grew disappointed with games that showed no further progress, news broke multiple times that K Company had finally completed a virtual reality system and was developing a game with it, stirring up a huge buzz. But commercialization would take at least a few years.
Anyway, amid all that, one company essentially said, "Fine, then you make one," and released a quarter-view 3D RPG map editor. It was surprisingly well-made.
Of course, it was single-player only, with no online features.
The company had two reasons for releasing the editor.
First, scrapping the game they'd developed this far felt like too much of a waste.
Second, it was to show how tough development really was.
But unexpectedly, it garnered massive acclaim, skyrocketing the company's sales and stock prices.
Players started crafting games their way.
There were plenty of trial and error, but the company shared know-how on their homepage and released new updates.
You could easily customize your character's appearance to your liking—not just yours, but NPCs' looks, skills, stats, everything.
The company periodically updated with new monster and weapon images, and player-designed ones often appeared too.
In the map editor's limited scope, players felt like gods.
And I was no different.
I made a game titled 'Perlnen's Twenty-Four Hearts.'
I built the overall map and set the environments.
Dense forests, deserts, lava fields, oceans, mountains—drawing from all my knowledge and internet cafe resources, I shaped the terrain.
I might have aimed too big, because the map ended up massively larger than expected.
It grew so huge that solo work became overwhelming, and testing later revealed problems.
I'd made it, but it was too vast.
I wondered when I'd ever roam and test it all, but I pushed that worry aside and started detailing from one corner.
I created villages, set up NPCs, assigned dialogue and quests.
I tested each completed NPC right away to check if the triggers—the commands dictating program sequences—were tangled.
It was around the time I'd gone from high schooler to college student, so I had plenty of free time.
Instead of doing assignments and drinking with friends, I made the game.
The game homepage offered blogs and a ranking system for creators.
I set up a blog to post update progress and the latest versions.
People played the maps, left reviews, and some even sent donations, which felt incredibly rewarding.
A month passed, then three.
By around a year in, the file size was so enormous I could hardly believe I'd made it.
The company even featured it on their main page as an impressive example of steady updates, sending encouragement money—real cash.
With a solid number of bookmarks and some income, I didn't need a part-time job. Plus, helpers emerged to assist with updates and bug fixes.
The one downside: I had to enlist in the military midway. Bitterly, I paused updates for it. But many fans remembered and waited, so I kept going.
Finally, four years after starting—factoring in military service and college—the game had all the story areas and quests I'd envisioned fully updated. After that, I only added new dungeons, achievements, or titles based on feedback—no more massive expansions.
Personally, I felt it was complete as is.
It even briefly ranked in the top 10 "must-try indie games" among those in the know.
Then, I got a call from K Company, the ones developing a virtual reality game.
They proposed a contract: turn it into a VR game.
It was the company from recent news, so I jumped at the chance, rushed over, signed, and handed over the setting documents and materials.
It was a satisfying deal. Completion would take 4-10 years minimum.
I understood, no issue. And a huge advance hit my account.
An amount unimaginable for a student.
I jumped for joy, then decided to replay the game from scratch without my save file for old times' sake.
Yeah, that's what happened.
And the moment I started the game... that's when my memory cuts off.
Was I kidnapped?
But if so, they wouldn't leave me in such an open place.
As I gnawed my nails, running through hypotheses, something felt off.
My gaze naturally dropped to my legs, dangling off the bed.
'Why are my legs so skinny?'
I looked up. The world seemed tall.
Like a child's viewpoint!
"..."
My God, how had I not noticed until now?
I spat out the chewed nail and looked down at my hands.
"This... isn't my body?"
Even my voice was different! Startled, I shot to my feet.
A mirror—I need a mirror!
I frantically searched the room. The tidy space turned chaotic in seconds, until I found a small hand mirror in the third desk drawer.
The moment I looked, I froze.
A familiar face stared back.
"No way."
This couldn't be. This face—it was definitely one of the characters from the game I made.
Well, since the tools and images were shared, it wasn't exclusively mine, but still.
In my confusion, something flashed before my eyes.
A translucent window with a clean green border.
[Soul Synchronization Complete.]
It blinked a few times and vanished, replaced by new windows in sequence.
[We sincerely welcome Master's participation.]
[All systems are now unlocked.]
[Forcing authority override. Initiating 'Project: Destruction of Fate.']
"Game?"
No way—if virtual reality existed, this is what it'd be.
Did K Company kidnap me as a test subject after our contract?
But I'd handed over the documents less than a day ago.
Turning all that into VR data in such short time was hard to believe.
Yet, I read and memorized every system message blinking in the corner of my vision before they auto-deleted after a set time.
As I dazedly pondered if this was real or a dream, a chill crept up my back.
Turning around, I saw a man sitting in a chair that seemed to come from nowhere. The instant I laid eyes on him, my heart pounded wildly.
This was getting harder to comprehend.
"Huh?"
I stared at the man, whose otherworldly appearance felt detached from reality.
A total stranger, yet astonishingly, I knew his name.
No—the moment our eyes met, the info flooded my mind unbidden.
Impossible.
"...Sian."
I murmured his name in disbelief, in a tone that rejected the impossibility.
He flashed a bright smile.
Handsome beyond words, yet it made him seem not of this world.
"Pleased to meet you. Creator, you even know my name. Indeed. I am the first lord of this world, born second by your hand—'Sian.' After long ages and endless waiting, I finally greet you."
He bowed his head, smiling with his eyes. I was utterly bewildered.
Sian—he was the second lord I'd set after Lord Perlnen in 'Perlnen's Twenty-Four Hearts,' one of the seven lords, the strongest being in this world.