Hyun-soo stood in the darkness. The air around him was cold yet oddly comforting, like a blanket shielding him from the outside world. Slowly, white letters appeared, glowing softly and breaking the void.
[Connecting to character creation screen...]
The text vanished, replaced by a light that grew brighter and brighter. In an instant, the darkness evaporated, and Hyun-soo found himself in a room radiating magical splendor. Before him stood an enormous mirror encased in an ornate golden frame, intricate carvings spiraling along its edges—something that belonged in a forgotten castle lost to time.
He froze. His breath caught in his throat.
The mirror didn't merely reflect his image; it revealed a version of himself he hadn't seen in years.
There stood Hyun-soo. No faint scar curling along his left cheek. No patch of missing eyebrows from an accident long past. The burns that once marred his hands, a testament to his years as a blacksmith, were gone—his skin now smooth, unblemished. Even his right arm, which trembled uncontrollably at times, was steady as if forged from tempered steel.
Tentatively, he raised his hand, afraid the mirror might shatter if he moved too quickly. His heart pounded wildly. This was him—or rather, an idealized version of him, unburdened by the marks of his past.
[Customizing character appearance...]
A notification appeared, floating before the mirror like a magical parchment.
"Skip," he said quickly, almost without thought. He didn't want to change anything. The reflection before him was perfect.
[Choose a nickname for your character...]
Without hesitation, he typed: Hyun-soo.
"My real name is enough," he murmured. To him, no other name would fit.
A cascade of memories washed over him, unbidden. A conversation with his father echoed in his mind, as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday.
---
"Father, why do you always speak so highly of blacksmithing? It's such an old-fashioned trade."
His father chuckled, his voice carrying the warmth of an autumn breeze. "Because it's fulfilling."
Fresh from graduating from a prestigious university, Hyun-soo shook his head in mild disbelief.
"You should've been born in the Joseon Dynasty. These days, people value technology, not handcrafted goods."
His father, undeterred, gave his son a playful pat on the head—a gesture that had become a tradition between them.
"And you? Why did you choose this path? You had everything you needed for a stable office job. Yet here you are, following the same trade."
Hyun-soo offered a faint smile, lowering his gaze to his calloused hands. "Because it's fulfilling."
His father laughed heartily, but his expression soon turned serious, a quiet pride glowing in his eyes. "Are you happy?"
The simple question hit like an arrow. Hyun-soo paused, reflecting, before he answered
"Yes, I'm happy."
His father nodded, satisfaction softening his features.
"That's all that matters. No matter what anyone says, as long as you're happy with what you do, the world becomes a more beautiful place."
In that moment, Hyun-soo understood something profound. He didn't just want to be a blacksmith. He harbored a dream—a small, persistent ember he'd kept hidden for years.
"Father," he began, his voice wavering slightly.
"I want to make something people truly need. Something that brings them happiness."
His father studied him for a long moment before replying, "You're a craftsman to the core, my son. But if that's your dream, chase it. The world could always use more happiness."
---
Back in the mirror room, Hyun-soo exhaled slowly. His father's words lingered, wrapping around him like an embrace in the middle of a storm.
[Establishing connection...]
The words materialized again, floating in mid-air. Once more, the world around him shifted. The gentle glow of the mirror began to fade, replaced by a cascade of stars that filled the room. Hyun-soo knew this was the beginning of something new.
He had chosen to embark on The Orion, a virtual world promising boundless freedom. But to Hyun-soo, it wasn't just a game. It was a blank canvas—a place where he could craft something truly his own.
Hyun-soo awoke slowly, the gentle chirping of birds weaving its way into his ears like a soft whisper, pulling him back into reality—or perhaps something far from it.
A sharp light pierced through his half-closed eyelids, forcing him to squint against the sudden brightness. As his vision adjusted and he opened his eyes fully, what he saw left him speechless.
Cobblestone streets stretched before him, bustling with NPCs clad in heavy, medieval-style armor. Their expressions were eerily lifelike, almost too real for mere constructs. Among them wandered a scattering of new players, their presence betrayed by their plain, tattered clothing. They moved with a mixture of awe and confusion, much like him.
Hyun-soo looked down at his hands. They were steady—strong, even—devoid of the tremors and pain that plagued him in the real world.
Crack.
He clenched his fists, the soft pop of his knuckles reverberating in his ears. He opened and closed them a few more times, as if testing the reality of his situation.
"No pain," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid to break the fragile spell.
In the real world, his right hand had been his constant source of worry. An injury that refused to heal had left him cautious, always fearful of worsening his condition. Yet here, in this strange new realm, his hand felt perfect. No pain. No fear.
A faint smile touched his lips as his gaze shifted to a distant training ground. Wooden dummies stood like silent sentinels at its center, surrounded by the muffled sounds of eager players testing their newfound abilities.
"That's it," he muttered to himself.
"The place where they said you can win a capsule worth 50 million won."
Hyun-soo had no means to afford a capsule of his own. His only chance lay in proving himself here, against these wooden dummies.
But the growing crowd of players reminded him he wasn't the only one chasing the same prize.
"Hey, look! Another one going for the capsule!" someone called out, drawing scattered laughter.
"Oh, isn't that where 2.5 billion players failed to beat that demon dummy?"
Hyun-soo smirked faintly at their chatter. SamYoung Inc., the developers of this game, were masters of intrigue. What player wouldn't be tempted by a near-impossible challenge, even knowing the odds of success were slim to none?
Determined, Hyun-soo began making his way toward the training ground, weaving through the throng of players. His focus remained sharp. Before crafting better weapons, he needed to prove himself here.
When he reached the training ground, a row of stoic instructors stood watch, observing as players struck at the dummies. One of them, a burly man with a voice as solid as granite, stepped forward to address him.
"Pick one of the wooden swords over there," the instructor instructed firmly.
"Hit the dummy fifty times."
A notification blinked into existence before Hyun-soo's eyes.
---
[Quest: Strike the Wooden Dummy 30 Times]
Difficulty: Easy (Tutorial)
Restrictions: New players only
Reward: 10 silver coins
Punishment: Unable to progress further
---
"Any sword?" Hyun-soo asked for confirmation.
The instructor gave a curt nod.
Walking over to a long table laden with wooden swords, Hyun-soo paused. There must have been at least five hundred swords laid out—a testament to the sheer number of players attempting this quest every day.
For a moment, he hesitated, scanning the choices before reaching out to grasp one. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, a strange sensation washed over him.
"Huh?" he muttered, his brow furrowing.
There was something oddly familiar about the sword. The weight, the texture—it felt as though his hand knew this weapon intimately, like he'd wielded it countless times before.
And he had.
Long ago, as a child, Hyun-soo had helped his father craft wooden swords for a living. It was a grueling, repetitive task, but it had kept them afloat. The memory, bittersweet, resurfaced with startling clarity.
But something else caught his attention. Examining the wood more closely, his expression shifted.
"Wait a minute," he said quietly to himself.
The material wasn't ordinary. He recognized this particular type of wood—its density, its grain. The sword he held wasn't just any training weapon; it had potential. It could be more than what it seemed.
His gaze moved to the stationary wooden dummy in the distance. This task wasn't merely about striking the target fifty times; it was the opening chapter of a long and arduous journey, one that promised challenges and mysteries at every turn.
With the wooden sword in hand and a resolute spark in his eye, Hyun-soo stepped forward. The wooden dummy might have defeated billions of players before him, but he was determined to be the exception.
"Alright," he said softly, but his voice carried an unyielding conviction.
"Let's begin."