“Twist it… if you wish to kill me.”
The sword impaling the man’s heart trembled. Even at the precipice of death, he demanded his own end with a chilling arrogance.
With a firm grip and a silent resolve, the woman twisted the blade.
His chest cavity contorted, and blood fountained from the wound, yet not a single moan escaped his lips.
“You remain as beautiful and unattainable as ever…”
The man’s fingers rose slowly, trailing streaks of blood across her cheek as he touched her.
Her expression was a placid mask, her heart as cold and unyielding as ice—the very qualities that had captivated him, drawing him to this end. A beauty worthy of taking his life.
A faint smile touched the man’s lips.
His final words came on a cough of blood.
“Damn you…” he muttered.
"Phew. It's not glitching anymore."
I sighed in relief, the game screen now stable, and checked the character’s settings one more time.
[Maximilian von Kaiser-Licht]
Magic — Manipulation / Element Properties of Earth, Fire
Maximilian. He was a named villain, a mid-boss in this game. His role was crucial, with a wide variety of branching paths based on player choice, which usually meant a mountain of errors and bugs.
Fortunately for me, however, Maximilian met his demise a mere eleven hours into the playthrough, killed by his fiancée. And cleanly, too, without a single bug.
Just as I was about to continue, a familiar voice called my name.
“Ah, yes. Seo-yeon,” I said, turning in my chair.
Even without makeup, her eyes seemed impossibly large, and her long hair held a natural sheen. Choi Seo-yeon had the kind of extraordinary beauty you’d expect from an actress. She was my team leader, and I had once dated her—or rather, she had graciously dated me.
“Is the testing going well?”
“Yes, I’m on it,” I said, shrugging out of habit.
Choi Seo-yeon gave a silent nod. My eyes drifted to a new accessory around her neck, and my lips twitched.
“Seems like your dating life is going well lately?”
“Huh? Oh… well, I guess?”
Choi Seo-yeon shrugged, too. It was a gesture we’d picked up from each other.
“It seems to be going well.”
I scrolled aimlessly up and down the screen. I’d heard the rumors, but hearing it from her directly still left a bitter taste.
“What do you mean, why?”
Our breakup six months ago wasn’t anyone’s fault. We’d simply grown apart. I was naturally laid-back; she was a born workaholic. Her ambition had pushed me to become someone who could make a comfortable living, but in the end, she couldn’t accept my nature, and I couldn’t change who I was.
“I’m just hoping you make it to marriage,” I said, the sarcasm dripping.
“Oops. Was that petty?”
I arched an eyebrow mockingly, but she was too smart to rise to such obvious provocations.
“Just get back to work. There are some changes in the settings, so you might need to update the modeling.”
“Again? What’s with the writer always changing things?” I groaned.
Sighing, I glanced at the clock. It was already 9 p.m. Night had fallen, but I was nowhere near clocking out.
“Ah, you were looking at Maximilian?” Choi Seo-yeon chuckled, peering at my monitor.
“Yeah, he died in just eleven hours. But you know, with a little trick, you could probably kill him right at the start. Is he really a mid-boss?”
“That’s the charm of our game. The longer you leave Maximilian unchecked, the more villainous he becomes, so it’s easier to take him out early. The difficulty changes based on the player’s choices.”
“…Right,” I said, nodding.
I’d participated in the company-wide playtests four times myself; collectively, the game had been run through about a thousand times. In all but one of those instances, this mid-boss, Maximilian, had died.
“Did you know? Some people said this character model is based on you,” Choi Seo-yeon asked.
“Yes. That’s why I kill him off right at the start.”
The words “Damn you—” still flickered on the screen.
“Hehe. You didn’t notice? He looks similar to you,” she chuckled.
“But… I’ve only met the writer twice?”
“She must’ve seen you around the company. Anyway, look. Even the personality is similar.”
“…The personality is similar? But his last words were ‘Damn you—’?” I asked.
“Tsk, that’s why I dumped you,” I retorted, my voice laced with sarcasm again.
Choi Seo-yeon’s expression hardened. I threw my hands up in mock surrender.
“Oops, sorry. Was that petty too?”
Being called petty only makes a man pettier; there was no helping it now. Finally, she took the bait.
“…You really are petty,” Choi Seo-yeon responded.
“You only think I'm petty because you feel attacked. You’ve got some paranoia going on. I’m the only one who could tolerate you.”
“Just watch the game and stay quiet. How’s the test going?”
I let her change the subject. My focus returned to the monitor.
“The game itself is fun.”
The setting was a fantasy world with a cultural aesthetic spanning from the 14th to the 20th centuries. It was a large-scale RPG, but its core was storytelling.
“But the problem is, if this fails, the company fails,” I continued.
NEX had emerged like a revelation in the barren console game market of Daehan, gaining worldwide recognition after a string of successes. Now, this AAA-class game was their all-in bet, funded by every bit of profit and investment they had.
If this flopped, we’d be screwed. Seriously.
“Don’t worry, it won’t fail. Haven’t you seen how the gameplay videos took the world by storm?” Seo-yeon replied.
The gameplay videos had indeed gone viral. The game’s storyline and difficulty could be altered by player action, not to mention the highly advanced AI that controlled the named characters. Though a single-player experience, this fresh approach, combined with NEX’s reputation, had already positioned our game as a strong contender for Game of the Year.
“If we cement our reputation with this console release, we can rake in the money with an online version later. We’re definitely going to succeed,” Seo-yeon continued, her voice brimming with optimism.
The game truly featured a host of appealing characters and classes. Knight, mage, demon, demon hunter, bureaucrat, adventurer, mercenary, king, noble… players could be anyone they chose.
“Yeah. That’d be great for me too. Means a bonus,” I said with a brief smile, turning toward the window. “…Ah, there he is.”
My desk was positioned by the window, offering a view of the street and our company’s entrance. A sleek foreign car gleamed under a streetlight, waiting for her.
“Is that guy less petty than me?” I asked, pointing outside, the joke finally feeling lighter.
“…He’s a good person, in a different way,” she said with a soft smile.
That was enough for me—hearing that I was a good person, too. Even if she didn’t mean it that way, I chose to take it as such.
“Really? What a relief,” I replied.
Of course, a knot of unease remained, but it was looser than before. The man in that car was a good person, she said. If he’d been a jerk, I probably would have been angrier.
“Yeah… uh, there’s also something else…” Choi Seo-yeon hesitated.
I knew her habits. In a moment, she’d turn and dismiss it as nothing. But I knew exactly what she wanted to say in these moments.
“Seo-yeon. We first met three years ago, right? What was it you were going to say?” I coaxed gently.
Office relationships were a secret. Though we’d been dating before we both joined the company, it had become a covert workplace romance.
“…Right. What was I going to say…”
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
The brief silence was amplified by the wall clock. In these awkward pauses, it was always Choi Seo-yeon who broke first.
“Well, Min-jun. I’m heading out.”
“Alright. Take care,” I replied.
“Yes. You too.”
Her high heels clicked away down the hall. Her silhouette was perfect, but her inner beauty surpassed it. She was a truly wonderful person, the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was the first one to convince me that people could change others.
The words that would never reach her were spoken only to myself. Feeling pathetic, I let out a sigh and refocused on the monitor.
“But really, the writer is too much.”
Seeing the now-dead character, Maximilian, still blew my mind.
This scumbag is supposed to be me? Ridiculous… although he does resemble me.
He definitely looked like he was based on me. I’d been wondering who he reminded me of while I was modeling him, and it turned out to be myself?
“Better upgrade the looks.”
Officially, the game had gone gold, but the company—and the writer—still had ambitions. So, they gave me master access to do some final modeling tweaks. No one would complain if a character looked more handsome.
Even if he was a villain, I ought to spruce him up if he was based on me. After all, I’d never been told I was ugly.
After quickly finishing the adjustments, I noticed the character’s Unique Aspects.
In this game, a character’s individuality was defined by two types of traits: Attributes, which directly impacted stats, and Personality Traits, which had a more indirect influence. Named characters, especially, had a long list of both.
[Attributes: Intimidation, Dignity, Prodigy, Average Mage]
Maximilian’s attributes included those six. Prodigy and Average Mage. A truly terrible combination.
[Personality Traits: Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Pretense, Composure, Strong Mental Fortitude, Elitism, Authoritative]
And numerous others.
“The personality traits are quite bad.”
Maximilian might be based on me, but I didn’t have traits like Elitism, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, or Pretense. Nor did I have any right to be Authoritative. I stared irritably at the monitor, my eyes catching the codes sprawled next to the attributes and personality traits.
Alone in the office, I sneakily browsed the codes for other traits. I wasn’t planning any real mischief, just scrolling for fun… then I found one.
“At least you shouldn’t be petty like me.”
[Comprehension]
It was probably similar to empathy. Classified as an attribute rather than a personality trait, but whatever.
I added Comprehension to Maximilian’s list. Next was Wealthy Magnate… he might as well be rich. I playfully added several other unique aspects: Midas Touch, Sharp Eyesight, Unyielding Physique…
“…What am I even doing?”
As I added a few more attributes that wouldn’t be too noticeable, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I took my hand off the mouse and leaned back in my chair.
“…Oh, boy. It’s been seven years,” I let out a rueful laugh.
Seven years was too long a time for us. Too long for something to end so abruptly. Or maybe I was the only one who felt it was abrupt. You, on the other hand, had simply grown tired, slowly preparing for the end. I just didn’t realize you had changed.
A loud notification sound nearly made me fall out of my chair.
<Haneul: Min-jun, are you still working?>
It was the company messenger. The sender was Haneul, the game’s writer and head of the AI department.
<Min-jun: Yes, I am. If there’s anything you want to change in the modeling, just let me know. I’ll fix it right away.>
My mouse hovered over the delete key, ready to erase the attributes I had just added.
<Haneul: No… it’s not that. I’m just waiting to watch.>
Watch what? Was she watching me?
I looked around the empty office. No one was there.
<Min-jun: What are you watching? Me?>
I blinked at the monitor. A reply came back quickly, with a smiling emoticon.
<Haneul: No~ Look outside! ^-^>
Without much thought, I turned to look out the window.
Through the clear glass, a flash tore across the sky. A bolt of lightning descended, illuminating the heavens with a pattern etched in the air like human veins.
A powerful lightning strike.
My eyes widened as the intense beam of light surged toward me. A massive shock rocked the world. The burst of light plunged the office into darkness, and a moment later, thunder drummed in my ears.
I remember nothing after that.