Ian stared at his phone screen, still displaying Minho's contact. His finger hovered over the CALL button for several seconds before he finally took a deep breath and pressed the green button.
CALL.
The dial tone rang. Ian waited, holding his breath.
"The number you have dialed is currently unable to receive calls. Please..."
Ian ended the call quickly. No answer.
He stared at the screen blankly.
Ian pressed CALL again. Up to seven times, and still no answer.
Ian threw his phone onto the bed in frustration. Why won't he pick up?!
He stood and paced back and forth in his cramped room. Maybe he already knows? Maybe he saw the news, then thought about Ian suddenly grinding in the game, then suddenly someone steals the egg...
Ian shook his head quickly. Impossible. Minho's not that quick.
But why isn't he answering?
Ian slumped to the floor, his back against the bed. His hands covered his face.
I'm alone. I'm truly alone in this mess.
Elsewhere, in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, Minho sat in front of his laptop with headphones on. His monitor screen was filled with the editing timeline of a video for one of his clients, a mid-tier streamer who'd requested highlight clips from yesterday's stream.
Minho scrolled through the timeline quickly, cutting unnecessary parts, adding zoom on good kills, speeding up boring sections. His fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard and mouse while his phone lay beside the keyboard, its screen lighting up repeatedly with incoming notifications that went unnoticed because his noise-canceling headphones were playing lo-fi music to help him focus.
An hour passed. Minho finally leaned back in his chair, stretching his stiff neck, then removed his headphones and pressed EXPORT.
"Finally done," he muttered while yawning.
The laptop screen displayed a progress bar: Rendering... 15%
Minho grabbed his phone while waiting. The screen lit up.
7 Missed Calls - Ian
Minho froze, eyebrows raised. Ian? Called seven times?
He scrolled through the notifications. All within a half-hour span. That's unusual. Ian rarely calls, especially not this late at night.
Minho opened his browser while waiting for the render to finish, scrolled through his Twitter timeline, and immediately got his answer. His feed was full of trending hashtags: #AtlasFallCrisis #MythLevelEgg #SaveAtlasFall.
Minho scrolled quickly, his eyes scanning tweet after tweet.
"Oh shit," he muttered softly. "So this is what all the fuss was about."
He opened Reddit. r/AtlasFallOnline. Megathread pinned at the top. Tens of thousands of comments.
Minho skimmed through it. Krios Dragon egg stolen. 180 days. Half the world could be destroyed. Massive bounties.
"Insane," he said, whistling softly. "This is gonna be huge content."
But then he paused. His eyes fixed on the 7 Missed Calls from Ian.
Don't tell me...
Minho shook his head quickly. No way. Ian just started playing. There's no way he's the one who...
His phone vibrated with a notification: Tomorrow's alarm - 07:00 AM
Minho reflexively opened the alarm app to reset it, and that's when he noticed again: 7 Missed Calls.
"Shit."
Minho immediately pressed Ian's name and CALL.
Ian was still sitting on his bedroom floor when his phone suddenly vibrated and rang loudly with MINHO (CRAZY BEST FRIEND) - INCOMING CALL appearing on the screen.
Ian flinched, grabbed the phone quickly, and pressed ACCEPT without thinking.
"Hello?!"
"Ian! Sorry, just checked my phone," Minho's voice sounded slightly breathless. "I was editing, had my headphones on so I didn't hear. What's up? It's unusual for you to call at this hour. Seven times, too."
Ian fell silent for a moment. Where do I even start?
"I need to talk."
"Talk? Now? Over the phone?"
"No. In person. Can you?"
Silence on the other end. "...seriously? At midnight?"
"Yeah."
Another silence, longer this time.
Then Minho answered in a more serious tone. "Okay. The usual park? I'll bring snacks."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Fifteen minutes. I'm leaving now."
The call ended.
Ian stared at his phone for a moment, then stood and left his room with quick but careful steps, trying not to make noise so he wouldn't wake Hana or his mother.
The small park was deserted at midnight, with dim park lights illuminating the worn wooden bench. Beside Ian, three empty coffee cans lay on the bench. He'd been waiting ten minutes. Couldn't stay in his room, it felt too suffocating, so he left early, bought coffee from a vending machine, drank while waiting, but still couldn't calm down.
The sound of a motorcycle came from the distance.
Ian looked up. Minho got off his bike carrying a convenience store plastic bag, parked the bike carelessly, and walked quickly toward Ian.
"Oh, you're already here?" Minho asked as he sat next to Ian, placing the plastic bag between them. It contained two soda bottles and several snack packages. "That's unusual. You're early."
Ian didn't answer, just stared at the empty coffee cans beside him.
Minho noticed, raising an eyebrow. "You already drank three cans of coffee? At this hour?"
"Yeah."
"Bro, you're not gonna be able to sleep until tomorrow afternoon."
"I already can't sleep anyway."
Minho fell silent, looking at Ian with an increasingly serious gaze.
"Okay. Talk. What made you call me seven times in the middle of the night while drinking coffee like a depressed person?"
Ian took a deep breath, his hands clenched on his knees.
"I... I'm the one who..."
He stopped. His voice stuck in his throat.
Minho waited while opening a chip bag. The sound of tearing plastic was loud in the night's silence.
Ian tried again. "So... yesterday... when I was playing, there was..."
"Ian."
Minho cut him off with a flat tone.
Ian turned.
Minho looked directly at him without smiling, without joking. "You're going in circles."
Ian fell silent, his heart pounding hard.
Minho continued in a softer but firmer tone. "Yeah, I believe you. Everything. If you're really the one who took that egg."
Silence.
Ian felt his chest tighten. Does he believe me? Or is he just saying that to make me confess quickly?
Ian opened his mouth to speak, but Minho had already drunk his soda and leaned back on the bench, staring at the night sky.
"You know," he said while playing with the soda bottle in his hand, "Atlas Fall Online is run by Alice."
Ian furrowed his brow. "...who?"
"An AI." Minho still stared at the sky. "They say, this is just a rumor though, I don't know for sure, this game doesn't just use regular scripts. There's an AI named Alice that manages the game logic. She gives quests, rewards, events, everything 'unexpected' in that game comes from Alice."
Ian fell silent, his brain trying to process this sudden information.
"Supposedly," Minho continued in a softer tone, "she can read player behavior, then give challenges that are, I don't know, appropriate? Ironic? I don't really get it either. But the point is, nothing in Atlas Fall is purely random."
Minho finally turned to Ian. "So if you really got that egg, it might not have been an accident."
Ian stared at Minho blankly. Not an accident? Meaning I was chosen?
Minho shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just talking nonsense to keep you from being too down. Who knows."
He stood and stretched with movements that were slightly too casual for this situation.
"It's late. You should rest. You have work tomorrow, right?"
Ian still sat there, hadn't moved, with his mouth slightly open but no sound coming out.
Minho looked at him for a moment, then patted Ian's shoulder gently.
"Whatever you decide, I'm still here."
Then he walked to his motorcycle with quick steps, started the engine, and left without looking back.
Ian sat alone in that park, staring at the three empty coffee cans beside him and the soda bottle Minho left behind, still half full, not even opened.
Does he believe me or not? Or is he just not wanting to burden me more?
Ian picked up the soda bottle with trembling hands, opened it, then drank. But it tasted bland.
Why didn't he ask more questions? Why did he believe so quickly? Or does he actually not believe me, just didn't want to say it?
Ian closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
I don't know. And maybe that's what makes it heavier.
Ian arrived home at 2:30 AM, entered carefully, removed his shoes without noise, then went into his room and lay on the bed with his eyes open, staring at the cracked ceiling.
His thoughts spun. Minho said it might not be an accident. Alice. An AI that can read players. Give appropriate challenges.
Ian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the thoughts that kept spinning.
But why me? I'm just a trash Explorer class. I even died twenty times trying to kill a slime. Why did I get that egg?
But no answer came. Only more questions.
What am I going to do now? Return the egg? Or should I just throw it away? Or sell it? Or should I pretend to find the "thief" so I won't be blamed?
These thoughts appeared one by one like whispers in the darkness, and Ian didn't immediately reject them.
He lay there until the alarm rang at 5:30 AM, his eyes still open. He hadn't slept a single second.
That morning, Ian worked like a zombie with red eyes and dark circles beneath them, movements slow as if moving through water, nearly falling twice while getting off the truck and once almost hit by a passing forklift.
Old Man Kim noticed, approaching Ian who was sitting on the edge of the truck drinking water with trembling hands.
"Hey, kid, are you okay?"
Ian looked up with a blank stare, his brain taking several seconds to register the question. "I'm fine, sir."
"That's a lie." Old Man Kim sat beside him with slow movements, his old knees creaking slightly. "You've been like someone who hasn't slept in a week. Red eyes, slow movements, nearly had two accidents. What's wrong?"
Ian shook his head slowly with mechanical movements. "Just got a lot on my mind."
Old Man Kim paused for a moment, then smiled slightly while patting Ian's shoulder with his rough hand.
"Don't worry, there are plenty of other girls in this world."
Ian fell silent, then smiled bitterly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, thinking to himself: If only that were the problem, sir.
That afternoon, Ian went home earlier than usual without taking overtime or stopping anywhere. Straight home, showered, ate dinner quickly while Hana talked about her book but Ian didn't listen to a single word, then went into his room.
Hana noticed Ian wasn't talking much, didn't even respond when she asked "Are you even listening?", but she didn't ask further, just looked at her brother with a brief worried glance before returning to her book.
Ian closed the bedroom door and sat in the chair, staring at the Atlas Fall Online ID card lying on the desk. His hand picked up the card slowly, his thumb rubbing the smooth surface of the card.
I have to log in. I have to find a way.
But "a way" to what? A way to return the egg? Or a way to escape responsibility?
Ian stood, left the room, and told Hana in a flat voice: "I'm going out for a bit."
"Where?"
"Capsule rental."
Hana nodded without asking much, but her eyes followed her brother's back until the door closed.
Ian stood in front of capsule number 14, the door open and the green light blinking with a regular rhythm. He entered, sat down, put on the headset, attached the sensor bracelet.
He took a deep breath.
Then whispered softly, whether to himself or to the world waiting for him beyond the screen: "I have to find a way."
But even he didn't know which "way" he was looking for.
He pressed the power button.
The screen lit up.
"Welcome back to Atlas Fall Online."