The university hall buzzed with nervous energy as rows of students lined up, their faces a mix of tension and excitement. It was the day of the final year project presentations, and the weight of their academic future hung heavily on their shoulders. In front of the hall, a long table was set up with professors and guests seated, prepared to judge each group's work with critical eyes. Some of the students shuffled their feet anxiously, while others whispered last-minute revisions to their teammates.
Among them, two figures stood out—Hye-su and Hae-won. Both of them were part of the same group, but their reactions couldn't have been more different.
Hae-won, pale and trembling, clutched her project folder like a lifeline. Her lips moved silently, as though she were rehearsing lines over and over in her head, trying to keep herself calm. Her hands shook slightly, and she kept glancing at the front of the hall, where the judges sat, waiting for their group's turn.
"We're going to fail. We're going to fail so badly," she whispered, barely able to keep the panic out of her voice. "I knew it, Hye-su. I knew something would go wrong. We're not ready. We—"
Hye-su, standing beside her, had a very different reaction. Her face was set in a mask of quiet fury, her eyes glaring toward the empty spot where Jin-ho should have been. Her jaw was clenched tightly, arms crossed over her chest as she muttered curses under her breath.
"Where is he? Where the hell is he? This is exactly why I said we couldn't trust him," she spat out, barely keeping her voice low enough not to draw attention. "Of all the days to be late, of all the times to pull this stunt, he picks today. The one day we need him."
"What if… what if he doesn't show up? We can't be present without him. He's the only one who knows the final edits. I—I don't know if we can wing it…" Hae-won's wide, terrified eyes darted toward Hye-su.
"Don't even say that," Hye-su snapped, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "He's going to show up. He has to. He wouldn't screw us over this badly. Would he?"
Hae-won bit her lip, clearly not sharing the same confidence. Her gaze flickered nervously around the room, taking in the other groups, some of whom were already presenting. They seemed so composed, so prepared—while their group was on the verge of collapse, all because of one missing member.
The weight of the situation pressed down on them like a physical burden. The project they had spent months working on was incomplete without Jin-ho's final touch. He had the last-minute revisions, the coding adjustments, and the tweaks that brought everything together. Without him, their presentation was nothing more than a half-finished mess.
But where was he?
Hye-su had known Jin-ho long enough to predict his patterns. He was smart, undeniably so, but he also had an infuriating habit of disappearing when they needed him most. He never took things as seriously as she did, and yet, somehow, he always managed to scrape by. This time, though, Hye-su wasn't sure if his luck would hold.
Her foot tapped impatiently against the floor, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. Their turn was coming up soon, too soon, and Jin-ho was nowhere in sight.
Hae-won let out a small whimper, clutching the folder even tighter.
"I can't do this, Hye-su. I can't—what if he doesn't come? What are we going to do?"
"We'll figure it out," Hye-su muttered through gritted teeth, though the knot of anxiety in her stomach was growing larger by the second. "He'll be here. He has to be."
But deep down, she wasn't sure if she believed her own words. Jin-ho had let them down before, but never on this scale. If he didn't show up, everything they had worked for would fall apart in front of their professors, their peers, and the guests. Failure wasn't just a possibility—it was almost certain without him.
Suddenly, the door at the back of the hall creaked open, and both Hye-su and Hae-won turned in unison, hope flickering briefly in their eyes. But it wasn't Jin-ho. Just another group of students filing in to watch the presentations.
Hye-su cursed under her breath again, her anger now boiling just beneath the surface. She couldn't believe Jin-ho was doing this to them. After everything they'd been through, all the projects they'd worked on, he was going to leave them hanging on the most important day of their academic career.
"I swear, if he doesn't show up in the next five minutes, I'm going to kill him," Hye-su growled.
"You… you don't think he's ditching us, do you?" Hae-won's eyes widened in alarm.
"I don't know what to think anymore," Hye-su admitted, her voice tight with frustration. "But if he doesn't show up soon, we're screwed. And I'll never forgive him for it."
Their names were called, signalling the next group's turn to present.
"Oh no… oh no, it's us. Hye-su, what do we do?" Hae-won looked like she was going to faint, her knuckles white as she clutched the folder.
Hye-su took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay composed, even though her nerves were shot.
"We stall. We get up there and buy time. He'll come. He has to."
But even as she said it, her heart sank. Because there was no sign of Jin-ho, and their time was running out.
The air in the hall grew heavier as Hye-su and Hae-won's names were called. The time had come. With no sign of Jin-ho, they had no choice but to step forward and begin their presentation. The weight of his absence gnawed at them both, but they couldn't let that show—not to the professors, not to the guests, and certainly not to their peers who sat watching, awaiting their turn.
Hye-su inhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders as she exchanged a glance with Hae-won. Hae-won's face was pale, her eyes wide with nervousness, but Hye-su couldn't afford to falter now. If they were going to get through this, they had to hold it together. For now, the judges didn't know Jin-ho was missing. They had no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. That, at least, worked in their favour.
They approached the front of the hall, standing before the judges' table. Behind them, the large projection screen lit up with the first slide of their presentation—a polished title screen that read: The Realm Device: Unlocking New Worlds.
"Good morning, professors, honoured guests," Hye-su began, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her. "We're here to present our final year project, a concept that we believe has the potential to revolutionize the future of gaming and virtual reality: the Realm Device."
Hae-won stood beside her, trying to compose herself as she prepared to take over the next portion of their script.
"The Realm Device is a prototype EEG-based system that allows users to enter fully immersive virtual worlds by translating their brain signals into in-game actions. This device represents the next evolution in virtual reality technology, creating an entirely new way for players to experience a game world."
As Hae-won spoke, Hye-su advanced the slide, revealing the technical aspects of their work. The screen displayed complex diagrams of the Realm Device's interface, how it mapped the brain's electrical activity, and how it processed those signals to allow for seamless integration with a virtual environment.
"The core concept behind the Realm Device," Hye-su continued. "Is rooted in understanding how the brain's neurons fire and communicate during gameplay. Using EEG technology, we can interpret these brainwaves and, in real time, map them to specific actions within the game world. For example, a player thinking about running will trigger the avatar in the game to run, without the need for any traditional controls."
The judges leaned in, intrigued, as the idea began to unfold. It wasn't a new concept in the broadest sense—other virtual reality systems had been created—but none with the sophistication or seamlessness that the Realm Device promised. The professors exchanged glances, clearly interested, but Hye-su couldn't relax just yet. This was just the introduction. This part was easy because it was based on the work she and Hae-won had done. The real challenge would come when it was time to dive into the finer details of the project—the code, the hardware synchronization, and the neural mapping—Jin-ho's specialities.
Where was he?
Hye-su swallowed the knot of anxiety building in her throat and kept going.
"Our team was inspired to create the Realm Device after brainstorming ways to overcome the limitations of traditional gaming. We wanted to offer a fully immersive experience, one that doesn't rely on controllers or keyboards, but instead connects directly to the player's mind."
"Imagine," Hae-won added, her voice more confident now as she stepped into her role. "A world where you can enter a game as if stepping into another reality. A world where your thoughts and desires shape the gameplay, and where the boundaries between the virtual and the real are blurred."
The professors were hooked now. They leaned forward in their seats, some scribbling notes while others whispered among themselves. It was a testament to the strength of their work—well, their work and, of course, Jin-ho's genius that tied it all together.
But as the slides progressed, as they delved deeper into the functionality of the Realm Device, Hye-su's heart began to race. They were nearing the point where Jin-ho's presence was crucial. His revisions, his coding genius, the final implementation that had made the device work—it was all his.
Hye-su felt the seconds tick by like hours as they neared the end of their section. They had done their part, but they couldn't carry the rest of the presentation on their own. Without Jin-ho's final touch, they had nothing concrete to demonstrate. The device wasn't fully operational without the adjustments he had made in the code.
Hae-won shot Hye-su a worried glance, and Hye-su could see the panic starting to set in again. She couldn't blame her. Without Jin-ho, they were teetering on the edge of disaster.
"As we've mentioned, the Realm Device taps into brain signals to create a virtual reality experience like no other," Hye-su said, her voice tight with urgency. "We've worked extensively to bring this idea to life, but there's still more to come in terms of demonstrating its full capabilities. We just—"
The door at the back of the hall creaked open.
Hye-su's heart skipped a beat. She turned, and there he was. Jin-ho, walked in casually as though he hadn't just put their entire project at risk.
He flashed them a grin, the kind that said he knew he was late but didn't care. It was maddening and reassuring all at once. Hye-su wanted to strangle him and thank him in the same breath.
He slipped into the front row, laptop in hand, and nodded toward the judges as if nothing had been amiss.
Without missing a beat, he took control.
"Good afternoon, professors. I apologize for my tardiness. Getting myself ready for demonstration took the time. Now, let me show you what we've been working on."
And just like that, the demonstration of the Realm Device began.