As the weight of the revelations settled in, Joon-ho grappled with the implications of everything Jin-ho had shared. This mysterious man, with his near-omnipotent ring and deep ties to NexaRealm, was no ordinary player—he was a living anomaly, a relic from a past that the game's developers had tried to bury. The ring on Jin-ho's finger, Nova Reverie, was an item that should have never existed in the current version of the game, yet here it was, wielded by a man who defied every rule.
Still trying to process everything, Joon-ho asked the question lingering in his mind.
"Is it possible for you to take off the ring?"
Jin-ho looked at Joon-ho with a slight smirk, as if amused by the question's simplicity.
"Yeah, I can take it off," he replied casually. "But I'd rather not."
"Why not? What would happen if you did?" Joon-ho frowned, sensing there was more to it.
"If I take off the ring, it'll affect the system. Nova Reverie isn't just a powerful item—it's a keystone in how I've managed to slip in and out of NexaRealm without crashing the servers again. The first time I entered, without the proper safeguards, I caused chaos. This ring allows me to bypass the usual restrictions, tampering with the system without it realizing what's going on. It's like having an all-access pass to the game's code," Jin-ho's expression grew a bit more serious.
Joon-ho's mind raced as he absorbed this new information. The ring was more than just a powerful artefact; it was the key to Jin-ho's ability to break into the game undetected. Without it, the system would recognize his presence as an anomaly and react accordingly—likely with another catastrophic shutdown.
"Nova Reverie is what lets me play the game like I used to, even though I'm technically not supposed to be here. It's like having a god-mode cheat in a game, but instead of just giving me powers, it lets me exist outside the system's rules," Jin-ho continued.
Joon-ho felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just about bending the rules; Jin-ho was essentially rewriting them in real time. The realization that this man was playing a completely different game than anyone else was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Just as Jin-ho finished explaining the power of Nova Reverie, he glanced at the time displayed in his UI. For a brief moment, a look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by a calm demeanour. He turned to Joon-ho, his expression serious.
"I need to go," Jin-ho said abruptly. "I've been in the game for quite some time now, and I don't want to push my luck. The longer I stay, the higher the chance the system's firewall might detect me."
Joon-ho felt a pang of urgency as Jin-ho spoke. He couldn't let this opportunity slip away; he had to make sure he could meet this mysterious man again. There was too much at stake. Not just the secrets Jin-ho held, but also the looming pressure from Director Hye-su. Joon-ho was the only one who had come into contact with this anomaly, and that made him the prime candidate for questioning—or worse.
"Will I see you again?" Joon-ho blurted out, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.
Jin-ho paused, considering the question. He hadn't thought about it. After all, his priority had always been to stay under the radar, to play NexaRealm without drawing any attention. Sharing contact details or setting up a future meeting could jeopardize everything he'd worked to maintain.
"I don't know," Jin-ho admitted. "I don't aim to share contact information—it's too risky. For me, obviously. I can't even be sure when I'll come back. I have to randomize my visits to keep the system from catching on."
Joon-ho felt a sinking feeling in his chest, but he knew he couldn't let Jin-ho disappear without a trace.
"I'll wait," he said firmly. "I don't care how long it takes. As long as I can see you again, it's a step forward. A step closer to… well, to cracking this case."
"Cracking the case?" Jin-ho raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Joon-ho hesitated, realizing how much he was revealing through that slip-up, but he pressed on.
"Look, I'm not just asking for myself. I have friends, and teammates, who got caught up in all this. We were disqualified, stripped of everything because of… well, because of a lot of things. I need to get them back in the game. They didn't deserve what happened."
Jin-ho studied Joon-ho for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said finally. "Trying to trade information like this. It's unfair and cheating, to use me as a bargaining chip. But I get it. Responsibility can weigh heavy."
Joon-ho nodded, feeling the weight of those words. Jin-kyong, Baek-hyeon, and especially Soo-jin—his childhood friend who had always dreamed of being the best—were counting on him. They had been stripped of their future because of his and Min-jae's antics, and this might be his only chance to set things right.
"Just… don't do anything reckless," Jin-ho added, as he began to prepare for his departure. "I'll be around. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I'll be back. And when I am, we'll talk again."
With that, Jin-ho gave a final nod and began to fade from sight, his form dissolving into the digital ether of NexaRealm. Joon-ho watched as the man vanished, leaving behind more questions than answers, but with a promise—however vague—that their paths would cross again.
As Jin-ho's presence faded into the digital mist of NexaRealm, Joon-ho was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of the recent conversation pressing down on him. He sat there, staring at the spot where Jin-ho had just been, his mind racing.
The first thought that hit him was the obvious one: he now had critical information about the most sought-after mysterious man in NexaRealm. Information that could change everything, not just for him, but for his entire team. If he took this to Director Hye-su, she could very well use it to secure Team 2's spot among the chosen 15 players to represent Korea in the World NexaRealm Championship. It would be a game-changer, a way to redeem himself and his team after everything that had gone wrong.
But then, another thought cut through the thrill of that idea—a pang of guilt. Jin-ho had saved him, helped him, and even opened up to him in a way that Joon-ho had never expected. Jin-ho had shown him trust, something rare and precious in this unforgiving digital world. To betray that trust, to use Jin-ho's secrets as a bargaining chip, felt deeply wrong.
Joon-ho's thoughts spiralled as he argued with himself. On one hand, he couldn't shake the responsibility he felt towards his team. Jin-kyong, Baek-hyeon, and Soo-jin—especially Soo-jin—were counting on him. They'd all been stripped of their chance because of the mess he and Min-jae had caused. If he could fix this if he could get them back into the game, didn't he owe it to them to do whatever it took?
But then, on the other hand. Jin-ho had been nothing but kind to him. He had revealed parts of himself, his motivations, and even his vulnerabilities. It wasn't just about the ring or the secrets of the system—Jin-ho had trusted him. To exploit that, to use it for personal gain, felt like the lowest thing Joon-ho could do. It would be cheating, plain and simple. A betrayal of someone who had, in his way, become an ally.
The conflict within Joon-ho's mind grew louder, overshadowing even his usual self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. Those thoughts that had driven him to this desolate corner of NexaRealm, the need to prove he was strong, capable, and worthy, suddenly seemed less important. This wasn't just about proving himself anymore—it was about doing the right thing. But what was the right thing?
He could play this out in two ways. He could go to Director Hye-su, relay everything he knew about Jin-ho, and secure his team's place in the championship. But that would come at a cost—a cost that Jin-ho, who had already sacrificed so much, would have to pay. The idea of using Jin-ho like that made Joon-ho's stomach turn.
Or he could keep Jin-ho's secrets, hold onto the trust that had been placed in him, and try to find another way to get his team back on track. It would be harder, and riskier, and there were no guarantees it would work. But it would be honest. It would be fair. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the kind of thing that Joon-ho could live with, that he could be proud of.
As these thoughts warred within him, Joon-ho realized just how much was at stake. Not just the championship or his team's future, but his integrity. The person he wanted to be. The kind of player, the kind of friend, the kind of man he wanted to become.
He sighed deeply, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. No matter what he chose, there would be consequences. But for now, all he could do was sit in this moment of indecision, hoping that, when the time came, he would have the strength to make the right choice—whatever that might be.