Chapter 53

Chapter 53
ShutInDarling’s sister… worked at my mother’s company? And my mother’s company was the one that created the initial iteration of this game I was inhabiting, Safety Zone? None of it was easy to digest, but the first question I posed to ShutInDarling was straightforward:
“You ended up inside a game your sister’s enterprise created, and that didn’t seem strange to you at all?”
The mere notion that my mother could be connected had thrown me off balance for a moment. Yet this individual had known from the very beginning that he had been cast into a digital world linked to his own sibling, and he had remained remarkably calm about the entire situation. I simply found it hard to believe.
ShutInDarling responded with his characteristic blank, harmlessly vacant expression.
“My sister’s company only developed the first series, alright? Online Safety Zone is like the fourteenth iteration if you count by the main series.”
The numerical sequence of the series didn’t seem particularly significant…
“Did it never cross your mind that you were transferred here because it was a game your sister’s workplace made?”
“She didn’t create it.”
What was he talking about now?
“You just stated that your sister was employed at Salvation Project.”
“Yeah, she worked there, but she wouldn’t have been involved in development. My sister is a physician.”
“A doctor?”
“I mentioned before that I used to be chronically ill.”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“She became a physician to heal me. Then, completely out of nowhere, she announced she was taking a position at a gaming corporation, which was pretty unusual, yes.”
…This person was going to be entirely unhelpful.
If a physician sister walking into a gaming enterprise only registered as mildly strange, then naturally he had given no further thought to why a game development studio would hire medical personnel.
“Why would a game studio need physicians?”
“I heard she provided medical consulting. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”
I didn’t know much about my mother’s enterprise either, so there was no reason ShutInDarling would possess detailed knowledge regarding his sister’s place of employment.
I deduced that some form of connection had to exist the moment Luna Moon mirrored my mother’s face…
Early on, I had theorized that Safety Zone might be a physical replica of this universe—that someone had constructed a game-like corridor bridging the two realms. And perhaps that architect had been my mother’s company.
In a way, that realization might even bring a sense of relief. If Luna Moon bore Mother’s face not because they were identical individuals, but simply because she mirrored the visage of the game’s creator, I could at least shake off a portion of my unease.
What remained certain was that our transference into this world was far from accidental. At the very minimum, ShutInDarling and I shared profound ties to this simulation. As for the remaining individuals, there was no way of knowing.
I reflected on the matter for a moment before speaking:
“A member of my family was employed at that company as well.”
Telling ShutInDarling directly that it was the corporation founded by my mother felt slightly too hazardous, so I chose instead to claim that one of my relatives was linked to it.
“What? Seriously?”
ShutInDarling startled, and only then did his demeanor shift to one of genuine gravity.
“Then… is our arrival here connected to that organization?”
Indeed, you fool. Now we were finally on the same wavelength.
“It would be an extraordinary coincidence if it weren’t. Exactly how it influenced our transition is something we will need to puzzle out from here onward.”
“How do you plan on figuring that out?”
“We have Taejeong, and I need to question the other players too—to see if any of them have ever heard of Salvation Project.”
“Ah right, you mentioned you have access to the messaging network.”
How many of them would actually recognize Salvation Project? Certain participants, much like myself, might recognize the title without linking it to the game world. The majority were gaming enthusiasts who likely didn’t even know where their own relatives worked. There would certainly be oblivious types like ShutInDarling among them as well. And perhaps—just perhaps—the system-unlocked players I was linked to, the ones I had already identified, represented only a tiny fraction of the transferred individuals.
“If there is an intersection among the participants… we might be able to determine why we were brought here. Perhaps even discover a way to return.”
I had included the detail about returning simply to offer him a touch of motivation, but ShutInDarling’s expression remained somber.
“A method… to go back?”
“Why? Is that problematic?”
“To be completely frank, I don’t really have a desire to return.”
“What?”
Now that I reflected on it, when I had previously hinted that perishing might send him home, he had hesitated briefly before dropping the subject entirely. He hadn’t been worried that something would malfunction—he had been debating whether he even wished to go back.
He had mentioned previously that he was sickly. That much I could comprehend. I had spent my own reality as a chronic dopamine-depleted wreck, meaning I wasn’t particularly homesick either. Taejeong had even expressed contentment with being brought here if it meant successfully clearing a game. Tibalrom… that individual had appeared genuinely eager to return, however.
“But you stated your sister became a physician solely to heal you. The two of you seemed close. Isn’t that preferable to perishing like a stray animal out here?”
“Even if I make it back, I won’t survive much longer.”
Ah, blast it all. I hadn’t wished to encounter a narrative this heavy.
“I’ll live a longer span by surviving the Second Apocalypse inside this physique.”
“I… understand.”
It dawned on me that the transferred players might share far more intersections than merely Salvation Project. For certain individuals, existence within this reality might simply surpass the one they had left behind.

Six years following his graduation from the military academy, the initial greeting awaiting Platon upon his return home was Anton’s thunderous roar. Anton appeared as though he had sprinted through an entire military campaign; his attire and hair were completely disheveled. Platon offered no remarks regarding his father’s chaotic appearance. Instead, he simply replied:
“If you were truly that curious, you ought to have attended the ceremony.”
Anton’s blood pressure visibly surged; he bellowed loudly.
“You cheeky brat—! I already heard all about it from Lord Haydam!”
“You met with Lord Haydam?”
A flicker of astonishment crossed Platon’s countenance before settling into a subtle smile as he nodded.
“If you had an appointment of such importance, missing the ceremony is entirely understandable. I comprehend completely.”
“Y-you little scoundrel…!”
Anton appeared far too stunned to articulate any further words. Then, realizing that letting his temper flare would only disadvantage him, he drew in a deep breath and collapsed heavily onto the living room sofa.
“…I am told you received a standing ovation for your graduation address.”
“Lord Haydam informed you of that?”
“Indeed. He stated that he would regret missing it for the remainder of his days.”
Platon appeared thoroughly gratified that Haydam had praised him directly to his father.
“So the standing ovation was genuine. I was under the impression you didn’t get along with your peers.”
“They care about the Zone just as deeply as I do.”
Anton’s brow furrowed slightly.
“An address… delivered for the betterment of the Zone? Is that the speech you gave?”
“Yes.”
To Anton—who had naturally assumed a graduation address would consist of empty platitudes regarding total allegiance to Lord Haydam—this revelation proved both unexpected and ominous. It signified that his son had delivered a markedly political speech at a formal gathering attended by the Commander himself. Yet Platon did not look as though he had been executed for treason. And given that Haydam had almost certainly instigated the move, the Commander would hardly have taken offense.
Anton pressed forward with his questioning.
“What style of speech secures a standing ovation?”
“I declared that moving forward, we ought to admit every eleven-year-old child—rather than restricting entry exclusively to the progeny of a select few officers or those backed by affluent sponsors.”
Graduation ceremonies were not attended by the Commander alone. The ruling elite of the Zone—its officers—were present in full force as well. And directly in front of those very officers, he had targeted the privileges they and their offspring enjoyed? Delivered by the sole heir of a man sitting near the absolute summit of that very hierarchy?
H-Haydam, you cunning fox…!
Anton grasped instantly that the entire maneuver had been orchestrated by Haydam. Prohibiting officers from leading the subjugation campaigns had indeed served as a tactic to freeze them out. But weaponizing the children of the very social class he intended to marginalize in order to spark an open rebellion? That was an entirely different scale of strategy.
A standing ovation originating from the cadets signified that the remaining graduates wholeheartedly agreed with Platon’s stance. The officers had witnessed their own offspring—alongside their sponsored cadets—endorse Platon’s platform right before their eyes. Attempting to dismiss the entire affair as merely a political attack by Haydam would prove a difficult sell now.
“Wait—what of His Excellency? How did the Commander respond?”
“His Excellency naturally endorsed our position. He announced that commencing immediately after the current subjugation campaign, academy admissions would transition from a recommendation system to an examination-based framework, granting every eleven-year-old resident within the Zone the eligibility to sit for the tests.”
“What? It was decided with such ease?”
“He openly invited anyone holding objections to voice them on the spot. Not a single person spoke.”
“Hah…!”
Only at that juncture did Anton fully comprehend what Haydam had meant when he remarked that he would regret missing the ceremony for the rest of his days. Had Anton been physically present, the initiative never would have passed with such seamless velocity. After all, he personally sponsored a substantial number of youngsters.
For the officer class, securing military commissions for their biological sons was paramount—but transforming sponsored orphans into officers held precisely equal significance. A sponsored youth who ascended to officer rank naturally integrated into their political faction, subsequently sponsoring orphans of their own and cultivating young officers to bolster the group’s collective strength. That constituted the foundational system that sustained the factions within the Zone.
And Haydam had shattered it with a solitary graduation speech—utilizing Anton’s own flesh and blood to accomplish the feat.
To squeeze a man’s own son dry merely to secure a single adjutant posting…!
If circumstances proceeded along this trajectory, both he and Platon would inevitably transform into prime targets for the remaining officers. Naturally, should Haydam extend his protection, there would be nothing to fear—yet would he genuinely shoulder that responsibility? Darling Outsider’s warnings still weighed heavily upon his consciousness.
He’s genuinely planning to make Platon his adjutant? Did you verify that information properly? An operator like Haydam would swindle you with an adjutant appointment and leave you with nothing.
I still cannot place my trust in him; I require a safeguard.
The singular silver lining was that admissions policy had shifted toward standardized examinations rather than outright banning sponsorships or stripping them of their operational leverage. An examination did not automatically guarantee the complete absence of corruption.
cajoling a handful of examiners won’t even prove difficult.
As if to mock that very line of reasoning, a few days later the Commander announced the appointed author for the academy’s entrance examination.
“The inaugural entrance test will be authored by Haydam.”