Chapter 81

Chapter 81
Shin Eun-jo pointed out that Meursault lacked any romance options. Within the Safe Zones, applying a term like romanceable character made little sense since clearing areas had always been the core objective of the game. Her use of such phrasing pointed clearly toward a single conclusion.

“Don’t tell me you played that otome game too?”

Shin Eun-jo replied promptly without hesitation.

“Middle-Aged Romance Simulation? Naturally, I played it.”

That particular otome game… Was it an overwhelming hit? Or was I the sole individual who had never encountered it? Wait a moment.

“Shamans engage with otome games nowadays?”

“My involvement stems from my profession as a shaman.”

“Pardon?”

My familiarity with otome games was limited, yet even I recognized that stating I played an otome game because I am a shaman fell far outside ordinary conversation.

“What connection does a shaman share with an otome game? Do you perform digital gut cleansing rituals or something similar?”

“Client management required me to play it.”

Client relations nowadays apparently demanded that shamans play otome games.

“An MZ generation shaman… is that what this represents?”

“Your imagination runs wild, but a client simply handed me a self-made game to evaluate its market viability. I played through it. That marked the extent of my involvement.”

The more astonishing aspect was that someone had taken a game they designed personally to a shaman for critique. …Hold on.

“You stated that a client created it himself?”

“That is correct.”

“Your client claimed personal authorship of the game? Are you certain?”

“Without a doubt. Every revision suggestion I transmitted via email found its way into the Safe Zones later.”

Those revision suggestions materialized…?

“What significance does that hold?”

“As explained previously, the client sought my judgment on whether the title would succeed commercially. It felt dull, so modifications were requested.”

“What specific alterations did you request?”

“Adjustments to Commander Hayden’s age and appearance, for instance. Middle-aged men do not appeal to my tastes.”

Ah. That explained why Commander Hayden possessed a remarkably youthful appearance despite belonging to a title designated as a Middle-Aged Romance Simulation. Those requested revisions had manifested in reality. If Shin Eun-jo’s account held validity, she had encountered the creator of the Middle-Aged Romance Simulation—the representative of Cthulhu Games—prior to experiencing possession. In certain respects, that connection might link far more tightly to the wave of mass possessions than my mother’s role as the head of the Salvation Project or HomebodySpouse’s sister being a former Salvation Project employee. After all, player possession originated from that very otome game.

The timeline required organizing. Before doing so, a specific confirmation was necessary with Shin Eun-jo.

“The individual you met represented Cthulhu Games, correct? Not some alternative studio.”

Shin Eun-jo’s eyes widened at the inquiry.

“Indeed! Exactly that, Cthulhu Games! The email address displayed it clearly, I recall distinctly! How could such a straightforward name slip from my memory until now?”

“That representative. Male or female?”

“Male. He bore a slight resemblance to Commander Hayden.”

Understood. Therefore, a different person entirely. A lingering doubt had crossed my mind regarding whether the head of Cthulhu Games might have been my mother. However, since the person Shin Eun-jo encountered was a male, the architect behind these events was not her. A strange, inexplicable sense of relief washed over me.

Tracing the developmental sequence of the games leading into our possessions… Cthulhu Games’ otome game followed by the Salvation Project’s initial Safe Zone series, culminating in Square Soft’s Online Apocalypse: Safe Zone. Luna Moon and Daphne had transitioned into this reality via the otome game, whereas our mass possession into the online Safe Zone occurred a full decade after Luna Moon’s death. Integrating the details gathered thus far established a projected timeline: The otome game is developed, the Cthulhu Games representative meets Shin Eun-jo, the otome game launches, Luna Moon and Daphne experience possession, the Salvation Project introduces its Safe Zone, Square Soft deploys its online Safe Zone, and finally, mass possession unfolds.

This sequence seemed plausible. Positioning the Salvation Project’s game after the arrival of Luna Moon and Daphne made sense because if a Safe Zone game had already existed at that stage, Daphne likely would have considered whether she had landed inside an apocalypse game rather than an otome title. Yet Daphne displayed no awareness concerning the end of the world. Organizing the timeline in this manner finally solidified one crucial fact. Luna Moon was undeniably my mother. The most logical deduction is that Mother, following her death as Luna Moon within the game, returned to the real world and constructed a game featuring worldbuilding identical to what she experienced. For reasons still beyond my comprehension, she dedicated herself to creating that software while neglecting me, her own child.

The dilemma remained: even after accepting Luna Moon as my mother, the motive driving her to recreate the Safe Zone with such relentless effort remained obscured. If Mother herself had merely fallen victim to possession, the primary instigator should have been the representative of Cthulhu Games. Why, then, would Mother follow his path and produce a game of her own? Furthermore, the fact that I drifted into the online Safe Zone unaware that she had developed it… could that truly be dismissed as coincidence?

For the first time, a desire to return to reality surfaced. Innumerable questions awaited my mother. At that exact moment, an event occurred.

A notification materialized within my field of vision.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
You have taken one step closer to the secret of the apocalypse….

This notification had appeared on a prior occasion—the exact message triggered when acquiring Luna Moon’s Ring. That previous appearance of the notification marked the initial unlocking of the system. Consequently, its reappearance now indicated something significant.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Further expanding the system.

As expected! When that notification first triggered, the wording stated Partially opening the system rather than Opening the system, leaving the impression that portions remained sealed. Evidently, the system expands progressively as one approaches the purported secret of the apocalypse. Reviewing the newly unlocked options swiftly prevented Shin Eun-jo from growing suspicious.

Rankings, Shop, and Logout, which remained locked, constituted the updated entries. Rankings and the Shop had never existed within the Safe Zones, yet their appearance failed to elicit deep shock. The real issue lay in the subsequent entry. Logout! Although locked, the term stood visible: Logout. Was exiting genuinely possible all along? Beyond that discovery, another notification waited.

MESSAGE
You have 1 message from the Game Developer.
Would you like to open it?

The game developer’s message prompt blinked persistently, urging immediate access. Instructing Shin Eun-jo to rendezvous with Daphne the following day, I hurried back to my quarters to inspect the newly expanded system functions.

Selecting the Rankings menu first revealed a set of guidelines. Rankings depend upon the quantity of acquired titles, with ties broken by chronological acquisition order. Only the top ten players are displayed, and monthly rewards are distributed starting from the moment of system expansion. The first-place reward grants one hundred points, ranks two through nine receive fifty points, and the tenth-place slot yields ten points.

The metric for ranking players in a Safe Zone devoid of levels or numerical scores turned out to be titles. Evidently, rewards motivated the implementation of rankings. A fleeting hope for retroactive payouts from past months went unfulfilled, as rewards applied strictly from the current point onward. This meant other players on the board could claim nothing unless they unlocked the expanded system—an obstacle I had already cleared. A noticeable gap separated the first-place prize from the middle tiers and tenth place, and these points likely served as currency for the newly introduced Shop.

Following the guidelines, the ranking list materialized.

Top 10:

1. Dopamine Addict
2. Dopamine Addict
3. T-balnom
4. Shin
5. IWon’tCryThat’sAerobic
6. Home Protector
7. Ssapasuble
8. Druggy
9. HomebodySpouse
10. Dentist

Seeing HomebodySpouse secure the ninth position ahead of Dentist without prior system access was surprising. However, seeing Dopamine Addict occupy both first and second place confirmed that the Unicorn Area player’s nickname truly was Dopamine Addict. How such a feat was accomplished remained a mystery.

Opening the Shop next brought an even greater shock. My held points totaled fifty. According to the guidelines, first place received one hundred while ranks two through nine received fifty, implying my placement stood at second—an unexpected outcome given that my inheritance of earned titles as a full-zone clear reward should have placed me ahead of anyone else holding fewer titles. The identity of this top player raised unsettling questions, though ranking based purely on titles would not hinder future clears.

Reviewing the Shop inventory revealed Notes for messaging non-friend players costing ten points, and a System Unlock Ticket priced at one hundred points designed to unlock the system for players who have not yet accessed it. Consumables like healing potions and food were also available, while further catalog items remained locked behind a ten-thousand-point requirement, with titles eligible for exchange at ten points each. Messaging other users apparently relied on purchasing Notes, suggesting that the Unicorn Area player had unlocked the system long ago and accumulated points. Aside from Notes, the inventory consisted mainly of basic recovery items rather than game-breaking gear. The System Unlock Ticket carried a high price tag, though its practical utility depended on whether anyone would spend points to benefit others. With a ten-thousand-point barrier guarding deeper inventory sections and titles convertible to points, grinding toward that threshold seemed pointless unless the hidden goods proved worthwhile.

Turning attention to the problematic entry, Logout remained locked. Tapping the option produced no instant exit, but the associated text clarified its mechanics. This function becomes available only after every player has unlocked the system. Leaving aside the strict requirement that every single player must open their system, this implied the function would eventually become usable. Departure from the world was genuinely attainable, and the availability of System Unlock Tickets in the shop likely served as a prerequisite to open everyone else’s systems before leaving. While returning to reality held little initial appeal, possessing questions for my mother made ignoring this function impossible, and other players undoubtedly shared the desire to return, necessitating the expansion of external systems.

Unresolved questions lingered regarding what triggered the progress toward the secret of the apocalypse this time. Luna Moon’s Ring provided a clear causal chain, whereas the system window appeared spontaneously while organizing the timeline without an obvious catalyst. Pondering that mystery could wait; checking the message from the game developer remained the final task.

What are your thoughts on this sequence of discoveries?