“Sixty more days of forced labor….”
Jung Da-hoon just couldn’t find any joy in playing the game these days. Even when he disconnected and furiously vented on the forums, nobody paid attention anymore. All he got were downvotes. Feeling like he’d taken a beating in a blizzard, he headed over to the Yeo Woo-rim gallery. Only then did it feel like he could finally breathe again.
– – –
Title: The Gallery God did it again (17)
The article dropped—skipped another public appearance. This is the third time. At this point, shouldn’t someone check if something’s actually wrong?
└ Don’t tell me something actually happened
└ Shouldn’t the agency check this out?
└ No team affiliation right now, can’t confirm
└ He has an agency though
– – –
Title: Allegedly staying overseas (11)
A friend dropped the info, semi-official
└ That’s a relief
└ Such a goddamn celebrity, seriously
└ You show-off, jeezㅡㅡ
– – –
Jung Da-hoon’s expression twisted further as he scrolled through the community posts. Something felt off. The only so-called “proof” of Yeo Woo-rim being overseas was one half-assed Instagram Story from some acquaintance.
‘I heard he’s going on a trip abroad. Please don’t ask any more questions??’
Even that sounded irritated, like the person was annoyed by the barrage of questions—hardly enough to be taken as semi-official. Besides, as far as Jung Da-hoon knew, that acquaintance was a hardcore otaku who had recently fallen into a newly aired anime and basically lived in a niche subcommunity.
Jung Da-hoon mulled over Yeo Woo-rim’s last known whereabouts. He’d mentioned spending the summer as an alpha tester for Last Shadow. That’s why Jung Da-hoon had written out a long-winded application and managed to get into the alpha testing as well. But even inside the game, everyone looked the same, so finding Yeo Woo-rim wasn’t easy.
Half uncertain, Jung Da-hoon reached out to an employee from the company he’d gotten close to back then.
“Hey, is it possible to check Yeo Woo-rim’s activity logs from Alpha1?”
— “Hold on… yeah, he was Tester #334. Sorry, but that kind of thing’s technically confidential.”
“I’m not trying to invade his privacy. I just want to make sure he’s okay… even just the most recent part. Show me and I’ll buy you that limited-edition Neo Retro game console set next week.”
— “Extracting the data’s too risky. Just come to the office. That, I can do.”
“I’m stuck doing forced labor right now… If I leave, I gotta do double the time…”
— “You’re nuts. Come or don’t, whatever.”
He whined, but Jung Da-hoon did end up taking the day off. Eventually, he got access to Tester #334’s data.
“You gotta leave before lunch break ends.”
“Yeah, got it.”
The records from the previous alpha test. A top-down view showed the player believed to be Yeo Woo-rim. As he gently cradled and petted an egg, Jung Da-hoon narrowed his eyes. Then something suspicious caught his attention.
“Looks like he scored a pet.”
“Can we check what pet it is?”
“You just have to click on the pet info… Ah, damn, it’s randomized.”
List of Obtainable Pets:
—Deep Sea Snakehead
—White-Furred Arctic Fox
—Golden Skull
—Corner Chick
—Green Moon Catfish
—Ghost Whale
One item in that bizarre list stood out like a sore thumb—White-Furred Arctic Fox.
“Haerang, hey… Is it possible for someone to get trapped inside a game?”
“What, now you’re roleplaying? Physically impossible, obviously.”
“…But if they were trapped, how would you get them out?”
“They’re probably deep in immersion, so you’d have to beat the shit out of them to snap them out of it.”
With a doubtful look, Jung Da-hoon went back home. The long night passed, and yet another day of forced labor began.
***
‘Why the hell are they being so cautious?’
I felt like I was going to explode from frustration.
I’d tried lingering around those two users clearly intending to breed me, but it was completely useless.
“Fox, it’s so nice to see you again. You’re as beautiful as ever today.”
“Adorable little thing. Look at that swaying tail. Behold, I too have a tail just like yours on my butt. See? We’re friends now.”
Even as they fed me sweet words, they kept whispering to each other behind my back, and the frustration was building.
The rapport was already established—just hurry up and feed me the damn drugs.
“How much is the growth serum?”
“Gotta do at least five more days of grind at the forced labor camp to afford it… But hey, don’t we also need the heat inducer?”
“That thing’s pricey as hell… Ugh, is there no way to get a big chunk of cash quick?”
They watched me perform tricks and act cute, growing increasingly impatient with each passing moment.
It looked like they had plans but no money for the items. And since they needed both the growth serum and the aphrodisiac, the total cost had basically doubled.
‘I need to get the buffs from those bastards and become a fully grown fox ASAP if I want to secure my personal safety.’
People would probably lose interest in me too. As long as I looked this soft and cuddly, moving around like a fox had way too many limitations.
“What’s a Baby Fox doing here! No! Go back!”
Meow meow!
As I hovered near the labor camp to pick a rare flower needed to seduce a ghost, every single laborer who spotted me freaked out and kept picking me up and carrying me far away.
…Maybe I should try entering in my human form? If they think I’m a worker, at least they won’t kick me out.
It was nighttime, after another long day at the labor camp. The air still reeked of sweat from the workers.
Activating the Ingredient Analysis skill—unique to the Perfumery Fox—I initiated my transformation into human form. Here’s a neat trick I’d recently picked up—if I activated a skill before transforming, it would stay active until I manually deactivated it from the skill window.
Still, finding that flower was no easy task. The scattered wood debris kept tripping me up, and even under the moonlight I nearly fell several times.
“Not a single one in sight…”
“Yeo Woo-rim.”
“AAAH!!”
Right as I was grumbling to myself, Jung Da-hoon suddenly called out to me, silently approaching without a hint of presence.
As expected from someone in the Murderer Class. I was so startled I fell right on my butt. Still sitting on the ground, heart pounding, I quickly yanked my contract scroll out of my inventory and held it tight. If he tried anything shady, I was ready to activate the contract that held his life in collateral.
I stared up at him warily. Pinned to the left side of his chest was a shiny, freshly polished badge—my fan badge.
“Are you really Yeo Woo-rim?”
“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
“I’m asking if you’re really the Yeo Woo-rim from Poksup.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He hadn’t even batted an eye at me before, and now here he was in the dead of night—why now?
“If you’re truly Yeo Woo-rim, then tell me—what did you do during your last session in the alpha test? Don’t tell me you don’t remember that.”
“I bought a cash item. Scored the Arctic Fox.”
“Ha, fuck.”
Jung Da-hoon cursed under his breath, almost like a sigh.
“It’s you.”
He extended a hand. I grabbed it and stood up to face him.
“So you finally believe me?”
“Yeah. You said you’re trapped in the game, right? Where exactly are you right now? I’ll come get you.”
“If you mean my real-world location… I don’t know. My last memory is cracking eggs while half-asleep and taking a nap.”
“You’re not at home.”
“You went to check?”
“Yeah. I made a scene and even filed a report. But it’s like you vanished into thin air—without a trace. I even checked the CCTV footage, and there’s no sign of you leaving.”
He explained everything with a grim face. Strangely enough, instead of panicking, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Finally, finally… Someone recognized me. I was honestly happy.
“So, how did you find out?”
“At some point… I started having doubts.”
“Doubts?”
“That time you brought me food. It reminded me of the Poksup I know. Instead of getting angry in a frustrating situation, you were already thinking of how to survive…”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Yeah, that’s my personality—people often say I don’t show much emotion, that I come off a little dull.
“And you missed three awards ceremonies.”
That’s when he started digging through every possible lead on my whereabouts.
He visited the game company, tracked down my home address.
He even filed a false police report to create a scene and got arrested for it.
“So my whereabouts are completely unknown?”
“Exactly.”
“If it were just my mind trapped, I’d have starved to death by now. I think my whole body was digitized and transmitted into the game.”
“Haah… yeah.”
“I’ve searched around, but I haven’t seen anyone else like me. I should tell the developers, but if I say something rash and they roll back the server, I might just disappear altogether. Everything’s a variable now.”
As for what comes next—
“So for now… my goal is to become the last one standing, and officially escape through the system here in Shadow Castle. If I’m still trapped after winning, then you can go tell the game company.”
Jung Da-hoon still looked like he couldn’t fully believe it.
“…How… did I not recognize you?”
“It happens.”
“I was a complete idiot…”
“It’s enough that you recognize me now. Thank you. Seriously—it’s such a relief.”
And I meant it. Finally having someone believe me—it felt like I could breathe again.
“So… can you help me accomplish my goal? If I can just get out, I’ll repay you however you want.”
“I’ve been on your side from the beginning.”
When I reached out my hand first, he grabbed it tightly, as if he’d made up his mind.
