Meanwhile, Zack glanced at the clock— 9 PM. He was just about to log back into the game when his apartment bell rang.
He frowned, noting with unease that no appointments were on his schedule and his apartment security system didn't allow strangers from entering easily.
Stepping out of his capsule, he cracked the door hatch open just enough to see outside who was outside. Two men stood at the gates, clad in bodyguard uniforms and equipped with earpieces, clearly to communicate with others.
Keeping the latch firmly in place, Zack tightened his grip on the door's edge and asked who they were.
The man in the middle; tall, composed, clearly the superior, locked eyes with him and asked, "Are you Zack?"
Zack hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
The man's expression remained unreadable beneath his black suit as he said, "Our boss wants to meet you. You can refuse if you like but he told us to tell you that he knows your past."
Zack froze, his heart pounding. Part of him burned with anticipation, this could be the person who held answers about his past but a cold twinge of unease crept through him, warning him that something wasn't right.
He swallowed hard, then forced himself to speak. "Give me a few minutes."
He hurried back to the living room, grabbed a sticky note, writing quickly: "Rin, some guy who may know my past wants to meet me. If I disappear, call the police or your family."
As he wrote, Zack couldn't shake the thought that Rin's background was far from simple. He didn't know the full truth but from what he'd seen, Rin was more powerful and influential than most realized.
He didn't want to put Rin in any danger, yet he figured a brief heads-up was harmless and he needed some measure of safety, however small, before stepping outside.
Zack didn't know who awaited him but he knew enough to sense the danger and power in the person's presence.
Leaving the note on the fridge for safety, he drew a deep breath and stepped outside.
***
The Serene Sky Lounge, one of the top five restaurants in the country, floated above the night skyline like a glass palace.
Soft jazz hummed in the background, chandeliers cascading warm light over polished marble.
Zack sat stiffly in his chair, palms cold, back straight.
Across from him, in a velvet seat by the floor-to-ceiling window, a blond Asian man in a tailored tuxedo watched him with quiet amusement; like he was observing a curious animal rather than a person. He hadn't spoken a word since Zack arrived.
Zack didn't know where to start.
The man finally lifted his wine, swirled it and took a slow, savoring sip. When he set the glass down, his voice drifted out; soft, thoughtful, almost to himself.
"So you're his champion, huh."
Zack blinked…His Champion?
Before he could ask, the man shifted his gaze directly onto him, the smile still lingering.
"Tell me, Zack. You entered the game?"
Taken aback by the sudden question, Zack cleared his throat. "Yeah… I did."
The man regarded him for a few seconds. Then he smiled wider.
"No need to be so tense. If you've got questions, go ahead and ask. I don't bite."
Zack's eyes flicked toward the two bodyguards posted near the entrance; silent, alert, visibly trained. The blond man followed Zack's gaze and chuckled.
"Right, right. That won't help."
He waved his hand lazily.
"You two, out."
The bodyguards bowed and left the private suite, closing the heavy door behind them.
Now it was just the two of them.
Zack inhaled slowly, gathering whatever scraps of courage he had left.
"First… who are you?" he asked. "And second, tell me the truth about my past. If you know anything about who I really am… I want to hear it."
For a moment, the man simply stared at him.
Then a soft laugh escaped him, low and amused.
"Well, I can at least assure you of one thing," he said. "I wasn't the one who altered your records before you were dropped at the orphanage."
The man tilted his head slightly, noticing Zack's reaction.
As for who he was… the blond man only chuckled again, offering no answer.
Zack's stomach tightened. He had been hoping desperately, that this was the man behind it. That he could get answers. Confront him.
Instead, all this meant was that the blond man wanted something from him. Zack gaze sharpened.
"You're wondering if I know your past," he said. "The truth is… yes and no."
Zack frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means," the man said, leaning back, "I knew your parents. But we weren't exactly on friendly terms."
Every nerve in Zack's body tightened. A prickle of instinct crawled down his spine—danger.
The man laughed again, waving his hand as if swatting away Zack's fear.
"Oh relax. We had our differences, but I wasn't behind their deaths."
He raised his glass, took another appreciative sip, savoring the taste.
"Murder conspiracies are for people without imagination."
Zack forced himself to stay calm. If this man wanted to kill him, he wouldn't be sitting here playing philosopher.
So Zack asked the next question burning in his chest.
"Did you send the letter? And why the game? How does any of that help me find the truth?"
The blond man blinked, as if surprised. Then:
"I never sent you any letter."
A cold sweat broke across Zack's neck.
The man watched him with interest, clearly entertained by the anxiety building in Zack's face.
"Don't worry," he said lightly. "Whoever put you in the orphanage likely handled that. They've always been… resourceful."
Then the man leaned forward, elbows on the table, expression darkening.
"As for the game…"
He paused, choosing his next words carefully.
"Your past is tied to it. Especially your parent's deaths."
Zack's breath caught.
The game? Immortal's Conflict…?
The man continued, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You see, the major families, conglomerates, old-money empires… they're all competing inside the game. All of them seeking the same thing—"
He tapped the table lightly.
"A wish."
Zack swallowed.
He remembered that strange comment he saw when he first logged in.
The blend of amusement and cold intent in the man's expression told Zack everything, this one liked creating problems for his own enjoyment.
"And you want me to be your champion," Zack said quietly.
"Smart boy," the man replied, smirking. "Someone interesting on my board."
Zack thought for a beat. Then his gaze locked onto the man.
"What if I say no?"
The atmosphere in the suite changed instantly. The air seemed to thicken, the vast drop outside the window pressing against the room.
Without breaking eye contact, the blond man reached beneath the cabinet beside him, retrieving a revolver.
He opened the chamber, inspected the rounds, spun the cylinder—once, twice, then rapidly until the metallic clicking filled the room.
Zack's heart hammered against his ribs.
The man pointed the gun at him.
Zack froze.
So this is how it ends?
Before he could react—
CLICK.
Empty.
Zack's eyes snapped shut instinctively. When he opened them again, his pulse was roaring, fury burning through the adrenaline.
The blond man exploded into laughter, unhinged, delighted.
"Relax, relax! Just a little joke!"
Zack stared at him, jaw clenched tight.
The man wiped a tear from his eye, still amused.
"And if you change your mind," he added lightly, "you can always become my champion instead of his."
Zack stiffened.
Again His? Who was "him"?
One thing was clear, the person Zack had hoped to meet wasn't this man.
Zack stood abruptly.
"Even if I become a pawn," he said, voice cold, "it won't be yours."
The blond man threw his head back and laughed again. Then, as his laughter faded, his expression twisted into a rage so raw it was unmistakable.
"…Too bad you're protected as per the game's rule," he muttered under his breath, too quiet for Zack to fully catch.
Suddenly, he looked up, voice deceptively casual.
"Tell me, Zack… do you remember your little sister?"
Zack's heart stopped.
A vague memory, a tiny girl's face flashed across his mind.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
But the man only smirked, reclining comfortably as if the previous threat hadn't existed.
"You're the one asking too many questions," he said lazily. "Why should I entertain someone who won't be my champion?"
Zack's mind raced.
There was no right choice here.
But one thing was certain, he wasn't giving himself to this man.
He turned and walked out.
The blonde man tilted the pistol back toward himself, thumb flicking open the cylinder with a practiced click.
He turned it just enough for the light to catch.
One lone bullet sat in the chamber.
He stared at it for a heartbeat… then exhaled through his nose, almost a sigh.
"Lucky him," he murmured.
With a lazy snap of his wrist, he shut the cylinder again and set the revolver down beside his half-finished wine; calm, unbothered, as if he hadn't just nearly blown Zack's head off.
***
Twenty kilometers from home, Zack spent nearly an hour just trying to hail a cab. By the time he reached his apartment, it was past midnight.
Inside, the sticky note was still on the fridge.
Rin was still gaming, oblivious.
Zack stared at the note for a while, then tore it to pieces and threw it away.
He collapsed onto his bed, replaying everything, the luxury car, the sky-high suite, the threats, the gun's metallic click, the man's twisted smile.
And the letter.
He wasn't even sure if it was okay to talk about whatever the hell was happening, mostly because he didn't understand it himself. Meeting that man had only left him with more questions than answers.
What did he mean by his Champion?
Was he protected all these years? By who?
His thoughts spiraled, his mind a chaotic mess.
Champions. Pawns.
Wish.
He thought of the others out there, crazed enough to believe it… people like that blond lunatic who had just pulled a trigger on him, willing to buy into anything, whether out of faith, desperation or sheer amusement.
Then a darker thought crept in, what if that revolver had been loaded?
The possibility sent a cold shiver down his spine, a delayed fear curled in his gut now that he finally had the space to feel it.
And then— his sister. How did that man even know about her?
Was she even alive?
That memory cut deeper than anything else.
He still didn't know. He hadn't seen her since they were separated, he got dumped into an orphanage at ten and… she disappeared somewhere else.
After he became independent, he tried looking for her, followed whatever scraps of information he could find. None of it led anywhere.
After a while, he'd had to accept the possibilities: maybe she changed her name, maybe she was hiding or maybe… she wasn't around anymore. He never knew.
Was she his champion? Someone else's? Or did he just bring her up to see how Zack would react? Zack wasn't even sure. He didn't even know the man's name.
In the end, Zack pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the only path that still made sense.
Almost everything seemed connected to the Immortals Conflict that much he was certain of. As for the letter… he'd trust it for now, at least until he had a reason not to.
Get stronger.
Dive deeper into the game.
If lunatics wanted to pick fights inside the game, then he'd face them there.
Zack stood, stepped into his VR capsule and let the lid close over him.
He exhaled once.
LOGIN: Immortal's Conflict.