The biting wind of Ebonveil Highlands swirled in chaotic gusts as Joon-ho stood on the snowy plateau, his heart racing with the weight of his decision. Somewhere out here, Jin-ho was waiting—and Director Hye-su and Hae-won were about to join the hunt. The plan was simple: use Joon-ho to lead them to Jin-ho, corner him in the game, and finally confront him.
But as the voices crackled through Joon-ho's comm, he realized just how little time he had.
"We're logging in now," Hye-su's voice came through, sharp and determined.
"Be ready, Joon-ho," Hae-won added.
This was it. His window was closing.
Without hesitation, Joon-ho reached up and muted his voice comm, severing their connection. He knew he only had a few precious seconds before they materialized into the game. His legs moved instinctively—he sprinted across the plateau, the crunch of snow under his boots barely audible over the storm.
"Jin-ho!" Joon-ho shouted, his voice cutting through the icy winds as he charged toward the shadowy figure.
Jin-ho turned, a familiar grin spreading across his face when he recognized Joon-ho.
"Hey, you actually made it!" he called, looking relaxed. "So, how did things go with Director Hye—"
"There's no time!" Joon-ho shouted, skidding to a halt in front of him. "Log out now! You need to go—immediately!"
Jin-ho frowned, clearly puzzled.
"What? Why?" he asked, glancing around as if expecting to find some threat nearby. "What's going on? I just jailbroke the system, no one can—"
"This isn't about you breaking in!" Joon-ho interrupted, panic edging into his voice. "They're coming. Director Hye-su and Hae-won. They're logging in right now—to find you."
Jin-ho's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief.
"Wait… what?" he murmured, still processing the sudden urgency.
Just then, the air next to Joon-ho began to ripple, and black pixels swirled like dark mist, coalescing into the forms of two women—Director Hye-su and Hae-won. The storm around them seemed to still momentarily as their avatars materialized, both clad in sleek, armoured gear, weapons shimmering on their backs.
Hye-su's piercing gaze scanned the area the moment she gained control, her hand already resting on the hilt of her sword. Beside her, Hae-won adjusted her staff, her eyes flickering with anticipation as she oriented herself. They were ready.
Except…
Jin-ho was gone.
There was no one standing beside Joon-ho. The plateau was empty, save for the three of them—Joon-ho, Hye-su, and Hae-won.
"Where is he?" Hye-su asked, her voice low and sharp, suspicion curling around every word.
Joon-ho swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral, even as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest.
"He was just here..."
The silence that followed Jin-ho's disappearance was deafening, broken only by the bitter howl of the wind sweeping across Ebonveil Highlands. Director Hye-su's face twisted into a scowl as the realization sank in—Jin-ho had slipped through their fingers.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. "We were this close. Just this fucking close."
Her voice carried a dangerous edge, sharp enough to cut through steel. She turned toward Hae-won, her irritation bubbling over.
"Hae-won! Check the goddamn log. I want every detail. I don't care if you have to comb through every frame—find out what happened!"
Hae-won was already hard at work, her expression cool and focused.
"I'm on it," she murmured, her hands moving swiftly as she brought up the game's developer interface, bypassing the usual restrictions with the ease of someone intimately familiar with the system's inner workings. A translucent console appeared before her, streams of data flashing across it. She narrowed her eyes, rapidly flipping through logs and timestamps, hunting for any sign of Jin-ho's presence.
Hye-su paced angrily beside her, her frustration palpable.
"This shouldn't have happened!" she snapped. "We had him! If we'd been a second faster—just one goddamn second—we could have tagged him, restricted his logout, something! Anything!"
Her words echoed with barely contained anger.
"We're the fucking founders of this place! Do you realize how absurd it is that someone—him, of all people—can just slip away from us?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "We could've locked him here, goddammit! Tracked him, restrained his avatar, anything. But no, we played nice. We followed our own stupid fucking rules—because what? 'Trust is important'?"
She scoffed, frustration bleeding into every word.
"And look where that got us!"
Hae-won remained focused, eyes darting over the data scrolling across the screen. She didn't react to Hye-su's rant; she was used to these outbursts.
"Relax, I'll find something," she said calmly, her voice soothing, yet firm. Years of partnership had taught her that when Hye-su exploded, the best course of action was to keep steady and let the storm pass.
"Relax?" Hye-su shot her a glare but kept pacing. "I swear if he thinks he can keep playing us like this—"
Joon-ho stood there, silent, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep in his chest. He had warned Jin-ho—he knew that much—but he wasn't sure if what he did was right. Was it a betrayal to help an old friend? Or had he simply bought Jin-ho some time that he desperately needed?
He didn't know anymore.
The lines between right and wrong were blurring fast. On one hand, Joon-ho knew Director Hye-su's obsession with catching Jin-ho wasn't going to end well. On the other, he needed to keep Team 2 in the championship, and that meant cooperating—at least to some degree.
His mouth felt dry, and he shifted uncomfortably, watching as Hae-won typed commands into the console, searching for anything—a digital footprint, a trace of activity, a mistake in Jin-ho's logout process. But it was looking increasingly bleak, even to Joon-ho's untrained eyes.
"Got anything yet?" Hye-su demanded impatiently, looming over Hae-won's shoulder.
"Not yet," Hae-won replied, fingers flying across the interface. "But there's a slight delay in his logout log… It's weird. Like he did something to mask it."
Hye-su cursed under her breath.
"Of course he did. The sneaky bastard always stays two steps ahead," she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling harshly. "I swear, Hae-won, if we don't nail him soon, I'll lose my goddamn mind."
Joon-ho lowered his gaze, guilt swirling in his chest. He couldn't tell them the truth. Not now. Not ever.
Unbeknownst to Hye-su, Hae-won, or Joon-ho, Jin-ho was still there.
He stood just a few feet away, cloaked in the deceptive embrace of invisibility, observing the frantic search unfolding before him. A sly smile curled on his lips as he listened to Hye-su's expletive-filled rant, every word landing with a hint of nostalgia. It had been a long time since he'd seen these two, even if it wasn't quite face-to-face.
He could leave anytime. Well, almost. Logging out wasn't as simple for him as it was for other players. To jailbreak in and out of NexaRealm, Jin-ho had to follow a series of steps and measurements—the same precise procedures that had allowed him to stay hidden from the system all this time. Pressing a simple logout button? Not an option. The method was meticulous, something he'd perfected over countless hours to ensure no one could trace his movements.
What allowed him to remain invisible—and undetected—was the power of the Nova Reverie, the only tester ring. This ring, forged specifically for Jin-ho during the early phases of NexaRealm's development, gave him absolute control over the game's system. It was designed so he could test, tweak, and fix bugs on the fly, ensuring the game ran smoothly for future players.
But now, he was using it for something far more personal.
The Nova Reverie had granted him the ability to manipulate the system at will, and today, that meant making himself invisible. Not just hidden from sight, but cloaked in a way that the game's UI, logs, and detection algorithms couldn't even register his presence. No trace. No footprint. Just shadows and silence.
He watched as Hae-won sifted through the system logs, her fingers dancing across the console in search of something that would never appear. She was good—always had been—but the Nova Reverie outclassed even her expertise. With this ring, Jin-ho could rewrite the rules of the game on a whim, slipping between layers of code like a phantom.
Jin-ho's smile widened slightly as Hye-su muttered another curse, pacing in frustration. Her fiery temper hadn't changed one bit over the years. It was oddly satisfying, in a way, to see them again, even if they didn't know he was standing right beside them.
The irony wasn't lost on him—how close they had come, only to miss him by inches. Had he not acted fast enough, they could have pinned him down, placed restrictions, and imprisoned him within the game world. The rules that NexaRealm enforced didn't apply to these two women, the founders. But even with their authority, Jin-ho's Nova Reverie was a trump card they hadn't counted on.
As Hye-su's voice rose in frustration— "I swear, if we don't catch him soon—!" —Jin-ho bit back a laugh. Hearing her voice again stirred something within him, a strange blend of amusement and fondness. He knew how much his sudden reappearance must be driving them crazy.
Still, there was no room for sentimentality now. He had to leave—soon.
The logout sequence wasn't a simple command. It required Jin-ho to recalibrate the system manually, using protocols embedded deep within the game's code. If he slipped up, the system might catch on, and the founders wouldn't give him a second chance.
For now, though, he was safe. Invisibility wrapped around him like a second skin, and he remained nothing more than a ghost—unseen, unfelt, unknowable.
Hye-su cursed one last time, pacing in circles. Hae-won continued working, eyes fixed on the console. And Joon-ho stood awkwardly to the side, guilt gnawing away at him, completely unaware that Jin-ho was right there, watching it all.
With a soft smile, Jin-ho took one last glance at the three of them.
"Same old Hye-su. Same old Hae-won," he thought to himself. It felt... strangely comforting.