Seo-jun’s eyes remained fixed on the translucent green window.
His heart was still racing.
After taking a slow, steadying breath, he spoke hesitantly.
"...Open Status Window."
DING!
The green window shimmered before expanding into a larger translucent panel.
〘STATUS WINDOW〙
Name: Arthur Von Ashbourne
Title: Young Master of House Ashbourne
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Affinity: Insight
Strength: 31
Agility: 29
Vitality: 30
Constitution: 34
Endurance: 28
Intelligence: 35
Perception: 42
Willpower: 33
Charm: 37
Cultivation Stage: Null
Riki Core: Dormant (Unawakened)
Seo-jun silently read through every line.
"...Arthur..."
He frowned.
"Arthur Von Ashbourne..."
His gaze lingered on the unfamiliar name.
"Wait..."
"This isn’t the character I was told I would be beta testing as..."
Just as the thought crossed his mind—
Shhhhhhh...
Another violent burst of static exploded inside his head.
"Ngh...!"
Seo-jun grabbed the side of his head as a sharp sting shot through his mind.
Then...
Images.
Countless images.
Memories that didn’t belong to him flooded into his consciousness like a broken dam.
A luxurious mansion.
A stern woman seated at the head of a long dining table.
An elegant silver-haired man smiling warmly.
Servants bowing as he walked past.
Sword practice.
Lessons in history.
Political etiquette.
Military strategy.
Hours upon hours of training.
Names.
Faces.
Places.
Years of another person’s life poured into his mind in mere seconds.
"Ah...!"
Seo-jun stumbled backward, breathing heavily as the torrent of memories finally subsided.
He lowered his trembling hand from his forehead.
His eyes slowly widened.
He looked down at his hands.
"...When I took the brief, there was never any mention that I would receive memories from the game."
Before he was taken into the white testing room, he was briefed on what to expect: that he had to beta test as a character rather than a player.
How to use the system with voice commands and touch.
What to expect when playing as a character.
But this wasn’t the character he was told he would play.
Was this a glitch?
The memories felt so real and personal. He knew the devs promised a whole new experience, but this was a little too much.
Seo-jun stared blankly into space.
Then, almost absentmindedly, he whispered,
"...So..."
"...I’m really inside the world of the game."
Seo-jun should have been ecstatic.
Overjoyed, even.
This was the dream of countless gamers.
To truly enter the world of their favorite game.
To experience it with all five senses.
To stand inside it as though it were reality itself.
Yet...
The excitement never came.
Instead, an uneasy feeling settled deep within his chest.
Everything felt wrong.
His thoughts drifted back to the frantic voices of the researchers in the laboratory.
The unbearable pain.
"Turn it off!"
"Override the safety protocol!"
"He’s seizing!"
"Override accepted!"
He could still hear the panic in their voices.
The desperation.
Their repeated failures to stop the synchronization.
None of it sounded like a successful experiment.
If anything...
It had sounded like a complete disaster.
And the fact he was here as a different character, with memories he wasn’t told he would be getting, was evidence of it.
Seo-jun slowly clenched his fists.
"...Then..."
He swallowed.
"...Logically speaking..."
"...I shouldn’t be here."
The thought sent a chill creeping down his spine.
The more he thought about it...
The more wrong everything felt.
"I have to get out."
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Seo-jun looked toward the floating interface.
His voice came out far less confident than before.
"...Open Menu."
DING!
The status window vanished.
A larger interface appeared before him.
〘MAIN MENU〙
〘Status〙
〘Inventory〙
〘Equipment〙
〘Enhancements〙
〘Map〙
〘Friends〙
〘Mail〙
〘Settings〙
Seo-jun’s eyes immediately scanned the list.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
His face slowly drained of color.
His breathing became shallow.
"Wh... Wh..."
His lips trembled.
"Where is it...?"
He frantically searched the menu again.
Again...
And again...
And again...
His pupils shrank to pinpoints.
"N-No..."
He whispered in disbelief.
"...The Logout button..."
"It..."
"...It’s gone."
For a long moment...
Seo-jun simply stood there.
Motionless.
"...No."
He shook his head.
"It... it has to be some kind of glitch... A bug."
"Close Menu."
The interface vanished.
"Open Menu."
DING!
The translucent green window appeared once more.
His eyes immediately searched every corner of the interface.
Nothing.
He closed it again.
"Open Menu."
DING!
Still nothing.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, he desperately searched for the one button that should have been there.
The result never changed.
No matter what he did...
The Logout button refused to appear.
His arms slowly fell to his sides as his knees dropped to the metallic floor.
Then, without another word, Seo-jun lowered himself to sit on the cold metallic floor.
"...Calm down."
He took a slow, deep breath.
Then another.
"I’m a grown-ass adult."
His voice was steady, though his heart was anything but.
"I have to accept what this means."
His eyes drifted toward the ceiling.
"...I’m trapped."
The words tasted bitter.
"...At least for now."
He clenched his fists before forcing them to relax.
"The researchers are probably doing everything they can to get me out."
"Panicking isn’t going to solve anything."
Another deep breath.
Then another.
Gradually, his racing heartbeat began to settle.
"...All I can do now..."
"...is play the game."
His eyes sharpened.
"If I’m really trapped inside Interstellar Lords Online because of a bug..."
"...then I need to make sure every other system function is operating properly."
He stood back up.
"Open Inventory."
DING!
A new window unfolded before him.
〘Inventory〙
• Premium Starter Item Gift Box ×1
• Premium Starter Riki Cultivation Gift Box ×1
• Premium Starter Weapon Gift Box ×1
Seo-jun blinked.
Then a weak grin slowly spread across his face.
"...A beta tester bonus."
His uneasiness faded, if only slightly.
"At least they didn’t forget the starter rewards."
Seo-jun’s grin lingered for only a moment before curiosity got the better of him.
"...Equipment."
DING!
A new window materialized before him.
〘EQUIPMENT〙
Weapon: None
Armor: None
Accessory I: Empty
Accessory II: Empty
Accessory III: Empty
Companion: None
Mount: None
He stared at the empty list.
"...Nothing."
Well, that wasn’t exactly surprising.
He had only just entered the game.
Closing the window, he immediately spoke again.
"...Open Enhancements."
DING!
The menu vanished.
A different translucent green window unfolded before his eyes.
Seo-jun’s expression instantly froze.
"..."
His lips parted slightly.
For several long seconds...
He simply stared.
"...I..."
His voice came out almost as a whisper.
"...I don’t know if I should be happy..."
"...or deeply concerned."
Hovering at the very top of the interface was a single line of glowing text.
〘Enhancement Points Remaining: 999,999,999,999,999,999+〙
"..."
Seo-jun blinked.
Then blinked again.
"...No."
He leaned closer to the floating window.
"...There’s no fucking way."
He rubbed his eyes before looking again.
The number hadn’t changed.
〘Enhancement Points Remaining: 999,999,999,999,999,999+〙
His mouth slowly fell open.
"What kind of bug..."
"...is this?"
He knew exactly how the Enhancement System worked.
Normally, enhancement points were among the rarest resources in Interstellar Lords Online.
Players spent months grinding quests, raids, and achievements just to earn enough points for a handful of upgrades.
Even the wealthiest players on the global leaderboard guarded every single point as though it were treasure.
Yet now...
He possessed a number so absurd the system had simply given up counting and slapped a plus sign on the end.
"...This can’t be normal."
A mixture of excitement and unease churned within him.
If this was real...
Then he might be carrying enough enhancement points to alter the balance of the entire game.
Or...
His gaze lingered on the impossible number.
"...Maybe something went horribly wrong during the synchronization."
Either way...
One thing was becoming painfully clear.
Whatever had happened inside that laboratory...
It hadn’t simply trapped him inside the game.
It had changed the game itself.