PS3554.I3 D57 1969b

To describe the history of the Durolinth kingdom, one has to travel back the river of time a distance of 232 years ago when a great war was taking place between the small nations situated on the territory that is Durolinth now. Aside from the main continent, the East continent of the Jiugal Royal Family and the Western continent belonging to the Royal Family of Epharil with various characteristics differentiate their people from one another. All shares the same story at around that time.

The war against the dungeon outbreaks and monster was devastating with casualties figures enough to fill a lake with dead man's blood, to fill a valley with the skeletal remains of those who perished. At that time, the survival time of a newly formed government could only be counted in years by two hands and constant uprising, rebellion, assassination filled the land. One notable difference, however, when compared to our modern version of war was the disregard for peasants and knights. At the time, all nations when going to war would preserve the land and the farmers on that land so as to procure food and stable resting places. Ancient scriptures have even describe the situation as 'a peasant can belong to more than 10 nations at a time'. Famine was not something happening on the regular basis then as those with agricultural and production skills were highly appreciated and rewarded. In fact, the predecessor of the Rhea Academy was the multi-trade school employing craftsmen with high skill, scholars wanting to share their knowledge and knights wanting to train the future generations. The school name was Ouranis as written by the scriptures and it was the first step toward universal peace.

That changed with the appearance of space anomalies, opening up gates and combining with the environment to make portals to another world. As the ...

" Fuck! Again... Let's stop for the day, my brain is already fried from overwork."

A man in his mid thirty stands up from his crucible, the only one amongany that is still working. The clock has already gone passed 9 PM, his shift is supposed to end at around 4 in the afternoon. Wiping clean the food pieces that fell from his lunch, throwing away the cans of energy drink on his desk and shutting down his computer before standing up, the man is meticulous with his hygiene, as a sick day will probably send him into debt. He picks up his grey coat and dons it over his shoulders, he steps out and bids the colleagues goodbye. He still has the setting for the game " Dawn of Arlem" to complete but that's deadline is still three days later, so now he is not as pushed as those in the character and art department to produce another cash cow for the higher-ups.

The game, now he looks back at his brain child after two years, is a masterpiece of modern AR technology. A gacha game situated on the Arlem island inside the academy of Rhea with various factions expansions on the way to expand the lore behind the world. With the intention of gaining a large player base, the initial launch was a big letdown for them as only a few thousands users participated in the launch period. But he and the boys did not give up and worked continuously to foster the right elements: captivating storylines, handsome man and beautiful women as playable characters mixed with the dating sim system mixed with some smut at the end, great graphics, etc.

The man can only chuckle at himself before angrily extinguishing his lit cigarette in his mouth, the aftertaste bitter and soul-wrenching, just like his effort spent on the game. The game, not his little studio's game, has already been corrupted by the capitalistic world, now merely a fat pig waiting to be slaughtered by the company that purchased it. He has insider knowledge, a deal is being negotiated between his company and another larger player in the game market.

As the ember dies under his cheap sole, the bus arrives at the bus stop where he is waiting. Hopping onto the transportation, he can see the thing is desolate, leaving him and another woman on the thing. Seating himself in a corner, he searches up an article about his game.

" BREAKING RECORD! Dawn of Arlem has reached 20 billions dollars worldwide with the Korean market earning around one tenth of the reported global number!"

He scrolls down with his trembling finger, his eyes squinting as if wanting to deny the reality he is in now. The article details the proportions of the pie the game is making, its value as a mere investment and future updates. His dream is not to make a splash in the global market but to craft an RPG experience rivaling the old ones like Dragon Dogma 4 and Half-life 3. Watching his brain child evolving in this way and with his hands in it no less, the man wishes so much for the game to only exist on his mind and not manifesting into this world. His artistic side and his creativity cannot watch how they butchered his dear child to drain a few dollars off the pocket's of people, to see his creation altered in such way and him being warned and later demoted when he rose the issue at the meeting.

" Do you want to change your game?"

The man looks up, his eyes widening at the woman who was sitting at the front of the autonomous bus. Her eyes as black as the night, devouring all the colors of this world. It is the same way he has imagined one of his version of a side character that is scrapped.

" What are you talking!? An... And why are you so close?!"

The woman only laughs before giving him a USB , a red one with the word " God" on it. Her soft, slender fingers touch the center of his outstretch palm and sending shivers up his spinal cord. The warmth of a living being is not there; rather, what remains is a coldness of metal. His eyes snap back to the woman's face, a beautiful face adorned with a gorgeous smile but seemingly so distant.

" Now, just with a single insert, your precious game will change, will developed on its own, and then, may your dream comes true!"

The woman cheerfully says, the distance between her and his nose tips closes down to mere milimeters. The bell on the bus rings, signalling that another stop has been reached.

" The decision is in your hands, choose. And goodbye."

She stands up and walks down the steps. The man quickly chases after her, his face sweating but the bus door closes right at the moment he manages to reach it.

Looking through the glass, she is nowhere to be seen. Turning his head left and right, he can never see anyone on the poorly lighted road at night. His back is getting colder and wetter from the realization that he must have met a ghost. Finally bringing his body back to his seat, his legs shaking from the experience, the man opens up a cheerful song to hear. The lyrics go.

" Tomorrow will be better with you here!"

No it will not, the man thinks as his brain remembers the fire notice plastering the company's information board. Another one has been fired just to be replace with AI, another o e whose hope and only salary has become jobless. He fears for his future as his age is getting bigger and bigger, his efficiency is dropping lower and lower.

" You just need a bright smile akin to the sun"

His face has always been a scowl from the mortgage, the monthly electricity and water bill, the cost of medicine for his son. Oh his precious little treasure, he won't lose him just like the way he lost his wife. Now his scowl has lessened, replaced by a sad expression from remembering her final moments.

" So now, let's smile!"

He tries everyday to maintain a smile and goes to work, his monthly pay barely enough to tale care of the two of them. It is getting harder and harder as the boy's sickness is getting worse despite the doctors saying that he is getting better. ( He never trusts them when they are checking his health but for his boy, doubt must be left aside to make place for trust in their medical knowledge).

The bus reaches his stop, he steps down into the stillness of the night. He walks another 10 minutes before arriving at a two floor houses just like the other two houses in this neighborhood, they are modeled and constructed inside factories to save time and cost. The clicking of the key reverberates in the air, unlocking the door. As he steps inside and turns on the light, he cannot see his little boy anywhere. Just thinking that his son is playing hide and seek, he quickly opens up any locked rooms inside. From the combined bathroom and restroom to his and the boy's bedroom, he walks frantically. He has checked every corner except that small spot where his son is growing a pot of flower, rosemary. As he approaches the balcony, a stinky smell enters his nose. Just thinking that is the neighbor's cooking, he opens up the antics where a glass ceiling is installed to let his son grows his own flowerbed, the stench getting more and more pronounced. He is feeling terrible and that he must not see what's inside, but his fatherly love brings him strength to continue on.

As he reaches for the light switch and push on them, a horrifying scene is in front of his eyes. His boy is lying in between the flowerpots, his pale face terror-stricken. He hastily approaches the lying boy, cold, the boy skin is cold! His breathing, he frantically bring his finger close to the boy's nostrils. Stopped! He quickly calls the ambulance, but the number replies with a textbot telling him to wait and tell its apology. The call goes on for minutes then ends due to the time period. The man can now slump down, his hands making a harsh, bitter sounds on the wooden board. He can only gazes at the boy's face, his mind running on and crafting various situations to explain for his son being like this. He thinks and thinks, watching his son sleeping on the wooden floor. He decides to bring the boy to his bed and turns on the heating elements of the AC, his mind hopping that the heat will jump his boy up.

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A nurse at a nearby hospital answers a man's call, his voice sending shiver down her spine. The content is simple, making an appointment with his familiar doctor to check his son's conditions. She quickly directs the call to that doctor before making a note in her schedule notebook of another appointment.

Hours later, at 8 AM on a Sunday, a man arrives, in his arm a corpse of a young boy seeing from the pale, lifeless complexion and smelling the stench of rotting flesh. Just at that time, the previously mentioned doctor steps out of his office and witnesses the scene. He quickly approaches the man, directing him to his office not before secretly telling the nurse not to call the police unless he says so. The girl can only sit down and continues her job, her mind staying on the image of a man holding his son's corpse.

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He hates his knowledge sometimes, the doctor thinks as he examines what the game developer has carried in. It is his fourth time checking the boy's conditions to see if the man is the culprit. No, he concluds sadly as no injuries can be found on the frail boy's except for the slight bump on his head, that the doctor can overlook as the man has described his son's position when he found him. The boy died from a sudden heart attack, his final moments filled with pain and agony from the burning sensation in his chest and the slow loss of consciousness. Now the doctor needs to break the news and prevent the game developer from hurting himself.

Stepping out of the office, the doctor slowly explains the situation to the game developer, his tone patient and caring.

" You must be joking right?! Please tell me you are joking!"

" .... No, I am not."

The man in front of the doctor has turned into a sobbing mess.

" Plea... Please tell me h... he is alive!"

" ..... No, he is not."

" This must be an Ap...April Fool JOKE that has been late!"

" .... No, it is not."

" .... So he .... he is really dead?"

The man asks, his face unrecognizable from the shadows.

" ... Yes... Do you need to know the reason?"

" YES! Tell me please!"

The man begs, he is hoping for someone else to be responsible for his son's death. Denial, it is the stage he is in now.

" ....A heart attack... The boy died from a heart attack on antics and you discovered him last night."

" N... No No NoNo NoNoNoNo No!"

A futile attempt of denial; the doctor can only ask the man to stay back else he will endanger someone on the streets. The doctor guides the man back to the reception area and purchases for him something cold to drink inside a paper cup. He leaves the man there as another patient has arrives, leaving a grieving father behind.

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" My condolences Jinwoo ... My condolences Jinwoo .... My condolences Jinwoo .... My condolences Jinwoo .... My condolences Jinwoo .... My condolences Jinwoo .... My condolences Jinwoo.... My condolences Jinwoo ..." 

Jinwoo, the game developer and story writer, is receiving condolences from his coworkers attending his son's funeral. The droning sound of them does not register in his brain; it has partially shut down from feeling any emotions. Now he stands in front of his son's grave, right beside it is his mother, a beautiful wife he once had but died in a traffic accident, a girlfriend since his college days, his childhood friend during primary and secondary school, his ... . So many memories that are being repressed inside burst out, leaving Jinwoo drowning in melancholy, lost and grief. 

"So when are you returning to work? We need you right now."

His boss says, interrupting his moment of pain. He is shocked by how ruthless and cold the man's request has been. Asking him to go back to work, to slave under the impossible deadlines just to line the pocket of board members and himself, Jinwoo can only stay silent in front of the uncaring question/demand of his boss. The man is now tapping his expensive shoes, awaiting the answer of a broken man; his eyes leers over its fat lids to check how much time he has left.

" Tomorrow, I will return to work tomorrow. "

" Good! Good good!" 

The boss jolly walks away to return from the other managers, possibly telling them about the coming back of a slave. He remembers, the USB, the thing that weird woman gave him on the desolate bus. Now he has two objective to finish.

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"It's good to have you back, Jinwoo! The content management girl is screaming for your help during the week. Can you go and help her?"

The funeral was on a Tuesday right after he discovered his son had been dead since the Sunday noon, now is Wednesday yet the incompetent girl cannot even solve the basic problems!!! His anger at how someone like her can even rise to the spot. Looking back in his memory, he remembers seeing the girl and the boss being particularly close during the company's annual party last year. He understands now, the truth, it hurst more than any blade can cut and any hammer can pulverize. 

In his hand is the USB, the one, he thinks, as he inserts it into his computer and uploads it onto the company's LAN. The files are heavy, with weird names and symbols being read by the machine. Jinwoo can only look at the progress bar, his dead eyes glue to the green racing horse to finish its track. TING! The process is complete; the sound tells him to close the windows. 

Jinwoo finishes his work that day and the day after, gifting his well-connected colleagues with the item he has promised them ages ago ( he doubts they even remember it). Getting back from his company, Jinwoo approaches the ceiling fan in the living room. He has already moved the coffee table away and has practiced it multiple times. The rope he bought yesterday is marked with markers along the length, the plastic chair, light enough to be kicked away, is gifted from his mother-in-law. His hands move just the same way he has practiced hundred of times the day before, a noose quickly enters into existence.

Bringing it up and hanging it on the blade, Jinwoo is ready for the final moment. He has already closed every openings to not disturb the neighbors, has sent in the doctor's note for a week break and has prepared everything after this day. He put his neck into the noose, his feet tipping on their toes to keep him alive. He takes a deep breath before jumping up and kicking the chair away. Gravity does its work and pulls him downward, straining the rope and his under-neck muscles. His breath has stopped, his eyes are getting blurry from the lack of oxygen. And just before he can finally meet his wife, he see the woman on the bus smiling at him, her mouth signing the phrase: "Please rest".

That is the end of a small cog in this society, its value disappears as soon as it reaches its breaking point.