The massive room was bathed in pristine white light.
Smooth metallic walls reflected the bright overhead lights, giving the room a sterile atmosphere. Several workstations lined the walls, each holding desktop computers, monitors displaying lines of data, and various scientific instruments.
At the center of the room rested a futuristic pod unlike anything found on the consumer market.
Its glossy white shell curved seamlessly around a transparent canopy, while two thick cables extended from its rear into ports embedded in the wall.
Soft blue lights pulsed rhythmically across its surface, accompanied by a quiet mechanical hum.
Standing before one of the computer stations were two scientists.
The first was a middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair streaked with a few strands of gray and a pair of thin rectangular glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
Dressed in a white lab coat over a charcoal turtleneck and black slacks, Dr. Li Wen studied the scrolling data on his tablet with a satisfied smile.
Beside him stood Dr. Chen Xiaoyu, a woman in her early thirties with shoulder-length raven-black hair tied into a low ponytail and sharp amber-brown eyes.
A white lab coat hung over her casual beige sweater and dark jeans as she tapped away on her own tablet.
"The synchronization values are remarkably stable," Dr. Li said, adjusting his glasses.
Dr. Chen nodded.
"Neural latency is practically nonexistent."
She swiped through another page of information before allowing herself a smile.
"Every diagnostic has come back green."
Dr. Li let out a relieved chuckle.
"After eight years of development..."
"...it’s finally happening."
Just then—
Whoosh.
The sliding doors behind them quietly parted.
Both scientists turned toward the entrance.
Walking into the laboratory was a young man dressed in a fitted white compression shirt and matching white pants.
Han Seo-jun.
His eyes wandered around the room, taking in every piece of equipment with barely concealed excitement.
Following a step behind him was another researcher carrying a digital clipboard.
Dr. Li smiled warmly.
"Welcome to Ocean Gem’s Advanced Neural Research Division, Mr. Han."
"We’ve been looking forward to meeting you."
Seo-jun returned the smile before giving the two scientists a polite bow.
"It’s an honor to finally meet you."
"Thank you for inviting me."
His next words, however, caused both scientists to blink.
"...很高兴认识你们." (It’s a pleasure to meet you.)
The laboratory suddenly fell silent.
Dr. Chen looked at him in surprise.
"...You speak Chinese?"
Even the researcher behind Seo-jun looked mildly taken aback.
Seo-jun rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed laugh.
"Only a little."
"I started learning it in my spare time."
The two scientists exchanged curious glances.
"You did?" Dr. Li asked.
Seo-jun nodded.
"I figured... if I ever got the chance to meet the developers of my favorite game, I wanted to be able to thank them in their own language."
For a brief moment, neither scientist spoke.
Then Dr. Li smiled a little more brightly than before.
"...I’m glad you did."
"That means more to us than you probably realize."
Dr. Li gestured toward the futuristic pod at the center of the laboratory.
"Shall we?"
Seo-jun nodded eagerly and followed the two scientists across the room.
Up close, the pod looked even more impressive.
The transparent canopy revealed a padded interior designed to comfortably accommodate a single person.
Dr. Chen stopped beside it.
"This is our Neural Immersion Pod."
She gently rested a hand against its polished exterior.
"It serves as the control center for the headset. While the headset is responsible for stimulating the brain, the pod continuously monitors your body’s vital signs."
She pointed toward a monitor beside the pod.
"Heart rate, brain activity, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, respiration... everything will be monitored in real time."
Dr. Li picked up where she left off.
"I should also mention that this will be our first full-scale test involving a human participant."
Seo-jun blinked.
"...The first?"
Dr. Li smiled reassuringly.
"With the complete system, yes."
"However, every individual component has undergone years of testing independently. We’ve also implemented numerous safety protocols to ensure that nothing happens to you."
"If the system detects even the slightest abnormality, it will immediately terminate the session."
Dr. Chen nodded.
"Your safety is our highest priority."
Hearing that, Seo-jun felt the last traces of nervousness melt away.
He gave a confident nod.
"Then..."
A grin spread across his face.
"When do we begin?"
Dr. Chen returned the smile.
"Right away."
At her signal, another staff member entered the room carrying a sleek white helmet.
Unlike any ordinary VR headset, it was completely enclosed, with dozens of tiny contact points lining the inner surface.
The staff member carefully connected the helmet to a cable extending from inside the pod before stepping aside.
"Mr. Han," he said politely.
"If you would."
Seo-jun stepped forward.
Taking one last look around the laboratory, he climbed into the pod and slowly lay back against the cushioned interior.
The padding molded comfortably around his body.
A moment later, the staff member carefully lowered the helmet over Seo-jun’s head, making a few small adjustments until it fit perfectly.
Outside the pod, Dr. Li glanced at the monitors.
"Neural link standing by."
Dr. Chen rested her fingers over the keyboard.
"Beginning synchronization sequence."
Seo-jun slowly closed his eyes.
For a brief moment...
There was only darkness.
Then, without warning, an indescribable feeling of weightlessness washed over him, as though gravity itself had ceased to exist.
"...Huh?"
His body felt incredibly light.
Unable to contain his curiosity, Seo-jun slowly opened his eyes.
His breath caught in his throat.
He was floating.
Above him.
Below him.
In every direction...
An endless sea of darkness stretched into infinity.
Countless stars shimmered in the distance like scattered diamonds, illuminating the boundless emptiness of space with breathtaking beauty.
"...Whoa..."
He instinctively looked down at himself.
He was still wearing the same fitted white shirt and pants the researchers had given him earlier.
Even more surprising...
He could breathe.
There was no suffocating pressure.
No discomfort.
It felt as though he were standing beneath an ordinary night sky instead of floating in the vacuum of space.
Just then, a familiar voice echoed around him.
"Mr. Han?"
It was Dr. Chen.
"Mr. Han, can you hear me?"
Seo-jun looked around instinctively despite knowing she wasn’t actually there.
"Yes!"
"I can hear you perfectly!"
Back inside the laboratory, the air was filled with excitement.
"It’s working!"
Dr. Li exclaimed, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face.
The researchers around the room exchanged triumphant smiles, some quietly applauding while others hurriedly recorded the incoming data.
Dr. Chen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
"The neural synchronization is stable..."
She looked toward the monitors before speaking again through the communication system.
"Mr. Han."
"The environment you’re currently experiencing is merely a testing space."
"It’s designed to ensure every function is operating correctly before your consciousness is transferred into the world of Interstellar Lords Online."
She glanced toward another monitor.
"I need you to answer a few questions."
"Can you see clearly?"
"Can you hear me?"
"Can you smell anything?"
"And can you feel your own body?"
Seo-jun slowly curled his fingers into a fist.
Then relaxed them.
He repeated the motion several times before taking a slow, deep breath.
The air felt crisp.
Natural.
He could even smell the faint scent of... nothingness. Clean, fresh, yet somehow real.
A wide grin spread across his face.
"I can see perfectly."
"I can hear you clearly."
"I can breathe normally."
"I can feel everything."
His excitement grew with every word.
"...Everything feels completely normal."
Dr. Chen gave a satisfied nod.
"Good."
"The next stage may cause you to feel a brief sharp buzz."
"It’s completely normal."
"There’s nothing to worry about."
"You’ll be fine."
Seo-jun took a deep breath.
"Understood."
Dr. Chen turned toward her colleagues and gave a firm nod.
"Begin the synchronization."
One of the researchers acknowledged the order.
"Beginning Stage Two."
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
The pod’s soft blue lights brightened.
Within the endless void, Seo-jun suddenly felt a faint tingling sensation spread across the back of his head.
"...Huh?"
It wasn’t painful.
Just...
Strange.
Then...
"AAAAAAAGH!!"
His scream echoed throughout the endless darkness.
Inside the laboratory.
Every scientist froze.
Dr. Chen’s eyes widened.
"Mr. Han!"
"What happened?"
Several researchers immediately looked toward their monitors.
"Everything’s normal!"
"The synchronization just started!"
"It should only be a brief neural stimulus!"
"It’s not supposed to hurt!"
Seo-jun’s agonized voice rang through the speakers.
"Dr. Chen!"
"Dr. Li!"
"It hurts!"
"It hurts so much!"
Dr. Chen quickly leaned toward the microphone.
"Mr. Han, don’t panic!"
"It will only last for a few seconds!"
"You don’t have to worry!"
At first...
Seo-jun gritted his teeth.
"O-Okay..."
He tried to endure it.
But only seconds later...
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
"It’s getting worse!"
Dr. Li’s expression changed instantly.
"What the hell is going on?"
One of the younger female researchers stared at her monitor.
Her hands began to tremble.
"D-Doctor..."
She hesitated.
"The amount of information being transmitted into his brain..."
"...it’s far beyond the projected values."
Everyone turned toward her.
She swallowed hard.
"It’s overwhelming his neural pathways."
"It... it looks like it’s frying his neural circuits."
The room fell silent.
"What?"
Dr. Li rushed over.
His eyes darted across the rapidly changing readings.
"...Impossible."
The transfer rate continued climbing.
Five hundred percent.
Eight hundred percent.
One thousand percent.
It showed no signs of stopping.
"Turn it off!" Seo-jun screamed.
"Please!"
"Turn it off!"
Without hesitation, Dr. Chen slammed her hand onto the emergency shutdown controls.
"Initiate emergency termination!"
The computer refused.
ACCESS DENIED.
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
She tried again.
"Emergency termination!"
ACCESS DENIED.
A warning message flashed across the monitor.
Safety Protocol Active.
Forced interruption during neural synchronization may result in irreversible memory loss or severe brain damage.
Shutdown prohibited.
One of the researchers shouted in disbelief.
"The system is refusing to stop!"
"It says it’s protecting the subject!"
Another scientist frantically attempted to disable the process from a different terminal.
"Access denied!"
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every monitor displayed the same message.
ACCESS DENIED.
Dr. Li slammed his fist onto a desk.
"Damn it!"
"Override the safety protocol!"
"We’re trying!"
A researcher typed furiously.
"The administrator override isn’t responding!"
"The AI keeps rejecting every command!"
Seo-jun’s screams grew more desperate.
"Please!"
"Please!"
"It burns!"
"My head!"
"TURN IT OFF!"
His cries sent chills through everyone in the room.
Then another alarm erupted.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
A researcher looked up from the vitals monitor, his face draining of color.
"His heart rate is climbing!"
"One hundred sixty!"
"One hundred eighty!"
"It just passed two hundred!"
Another shouted.
"He’s seizing!"
Everyone looked toward the pod.
Seo-jun’s body convulsed violently, his entire frame shaking uncontrollably.
"No..."
Dr. Chen whispered.
"No, no, no..."
She rushed toward the pod.
"Mr. Han!"
"Stay with me!"
Dr. Li spun toward the nearest workstation.
"I don’t care what it takes!"
"Break the damn protocol!"
The room was filled with frantic movement.
Keyboards clattered.
Commands flew back and forth.
Sweat dripped from every face.
Finally...
A researcher yelled,
"I’ve got it!"
"The safety layer is collapsing!"
"Override accepted!"
Dr. Li didn’t hesitate.
"Terminate synchronization!"
The researcher slammed the Enter key.
The pod’s blue lights instantly dimmed.
The mechanical hum died away.
Silence.
Seo-jun’s convulsions gradually stopped.
The alarms slowed.
His heart rate began to fall.
190...
160...
130...
100...
Eighty-four.
The laboratory collectively exhaled.
Someone sank into a chair.
Another wiped sweat from his forehead.
"We..."
"We stopped it..."
Dr. Chen hurried to the pod, tapping on it to wake him up.
"Mr. Han?"
No response.
She opened it and gently shook his shoulder.
"Mr. Han?"
Still nothing.
Dr. Li stepped beside her.
"Seo-jun?"
The young man remained perfectly still.
For several long seconds...
Nothing happened.
Then—
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Every face turned toward the cardiac monitor.
A single flat line stretched across the screen.
Dr. Chen’s eyes widened in horror.
"...No."
One of the researchers stumbled backward.
Another covered her mouth.
The room, moments ago filled with relief...
Was now consumed by absolute silence.
Seo-jun had died.