“I’m screwed.”
Report, report, report.
Yeonjun muttered the word like a compulsion, a cold sweat running down his back.
Eraha Online enforced strict in-game etiquette. Compared with other titles, its penalty guidelines for “creating discomfort for another player” were notably strict.
Because the game’s model quality allowed service down to young ages, they’d tightened moderation on sexual and violent content to survive the rating board.
If you ran around with no equipment, something common elsewhere, another player could report you for lewd and unpleasant behavior and you’d get a warning.
He forced a deep breath, flicked his fingers to reset them, and began typing fast.
I’m not a weirdo. I just got back after a long break, so my gear…
He hadn’t even hit Enter when ping-bong, the familiar chime, announced a whisper from an unknown ID.
[Whisper/Dohaesal : ??????]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Are you really Ignis-nim?]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Not a hack???]
What is this? No nickname like that lingered in his memory.
‘…’
He thought for a brief moment.
All he wanted was to melt quietly into the player base, piddle around with life-skills, and in his spare time find a thread that could lop off Chief Joo’s head.
If any old acquaintances remained he might offer a belated, rambling apology and call the whole thing a decade-old nostalgia trip. Otherwise, the last thing he needed was the hassle of people discovering he was a former “named.”
In that case, only one course of action.
Deny everything.
[Whisper/Ignis : Ah]
[Whisper/Ignis : I scooped up this nickname a couple of years ago,]
[Whisper/Ignis : so I’m not the person you’re thinking of.]
Perfect. He patted his chest; surely the stranger would be disappointed and leave. But just then a player named [Dohaesal] glowing above their head dismissed their dragon and plop dropped onto the soft grass.
A Yana-race avatar with loose-braided white hair spun once, cape swirling, before landing on polished boots.
What are they thinking?
If he wasn’t Ignis, would they claim to be a fan?
Unsure why Dohaesal had come down, Yeonjun watched the pretty character with fluffy ears twitching, wearing a reluctant expression.
The rabbit-beast Yana race never exceeded 180 cm even for male avatars, built on a petite frame.
Lore said they bounded through fields, feeding the continent with superior farming skills. Stat-wise you could set height anywhere between 150 and 170 cm. Designed for an androgynous beauty concept, the gender was hard to tell at a glance.
Judging by the shoes he’s probably male…
Yeonjun’s character, a Kiran, was the Yana’s conceptual opposite: a warlike race of cat-folk mercenaries roaming the continent once they came of age. You could choose ears and tail—cat, jaguar, lion, tiger—and tint them any color.
Twenty-year-old Yeonjun had aimed for a jaguar look but accidentally picked cat ears, and the jet-black cat-beast appearance had stuck ever since.
A tiny white rabbit and a soot-black cat wearing a ragged cloak. Just as he prepared to end the chat with “Well then, have a nice game” and bolt, the rabbit ears pricked up and those abyss-blue eyes fixed on him.
[Whisper/Dohaesal : ?]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : You really are him, aren’t you?]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : (item link)]
Frowning, Yeonjun checked the link: it showed his combat-mode gear, still set to the default “viewable” status.
[+13 Destructive Flame Saber]
Once a best-in-slot weapon when Ignis was famous, now common trash… But why link it? He clicked with a squint and twitched an eyebrow.
[Crafter: RIPMMO]
The maker’s name RIPMMO, Flammer’s master crafter, was plastered in giant letters.
Should’ve just rolled a fresh account instead of logging on main to peek at my friend list.
He swallowed regret, hit Esc, opened Settings, flipped his gear display to “private,” and feigned innocence.
[Whisper/Ignis : I’m a huge Ignis fan, actually ;;]
[Whisper/Ignis : That’s a gift from a friend—]
[Whisper/Ignis : I just keep it for the memories.]
[Whisper/Ignis : Sorry if you were hoping for more.]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Ah~~~ really?]
He doubted they believed it. Sweating, he inched backward, but the other was quicker.
[System : Dohaesal has invited you to a party.]
[Accept] [Decline]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : I’m a true Ignis fan too!]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Since you kept the nick and gear for nostalgia]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : I think we’d get along great.]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Since you’re returning, may I help you a bit?]
How can he type so fast? Yeonjun prided himself on speed, yet the scroll shot up like it was copy-pasted. He smashed Decline.
[Whisper/Ignis : No, thank you.]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : I’m fine with it!]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : I’ve got nothing but free time,]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : and my guild is famous and established,]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : so don’t feel burdened.]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : I always help newbies.]
I’m the one not fine! He hammered keys.
[Whisper/Ignis : I just came back and don’t know anything yet.]
[Whisper/Ignis : I want to adjust slowly on my own; if I hit a wall]
[Whisper/Ignis : I’ll ask then.]
So please leave now! The non-trade gear clogging this inventory, even though it felt safe because surely no one would remember, had betrayed him at once. He declined the renewed party invite.
[Whisper/Dohaesal : Really, no pressure ㅠㅠ]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : We’re professional chauffeurs—]
[Whisper/Dohaesal : you just sit in the Ratatouille kitchen.]
Professional chauffeur, my foot.
Once he hit max level, he had zero intention of chasing combat content. He’d seen too many thirty- and forty-somethings suffer, their aged reflexes punished by relentless raid mechanics. He didn’t want to tread that same humiliating path.
I’d sworn even before I was forced to quit that once I got a full-time job I’d stay far from hardcore.
Making that vow had taken more than one unsavory encounter. Memories flashed: a winter when he was twenty, a guildmate’s friend desperate to clear an end-game raid.
He’d spent less than ten hours a week and still insisted on clearing top content. Yeonjun had protested in party chat, his words vivid even now.
[Party/Ignis : Mr. Orche, I’m really sorry, but]
[Party/Ignis : we haven’t mastered the mechanic and you haven’t]
[Party/Ignis : learned the next phase, so I don’t think it’s meaningful to continue.]
[Party/Ignis : I can lead, sure, but without mastery we can’t progress.]
[Party/Ignis : Have you been practicing elsewhere?]
[Party/Crayon : I’m sorry…]
[Party/Ignis : I’m not scolding you.]
[Party/Ignis : I just want to know how many hours a week you’re putting into practice.]
The man, mid-thirties, probably a mid-level manager, could only log in at 11 p.m. after overtime. A raid run took two hours. A married salaryman clearing end-content on that schedule? Superhuman.
For three weeks he’d never passed phase two, made mistake after mistake, and finally Yeonjun took the bullet:
[Party/Ignis : If you won’t practice mechanics in public parties, we can’t keep helping. Sorry.]
I should never have taken that bullet.
But lamenting it now was useless; the bus was long gone.
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