It was probably around two or three in the morning. With the window left open, the cold night air slipped silently into the cramped room.
From the third-floor window, the only thing clearly visible was the warm glow of the streetlights illuminating the dim road below. A few insects circled lazily around the light. At this hour, there was hardly anyone outside—most people were already asleep in the comfort of air conditioning.
The room itself was unlit. The only illumination came from the pale, flickering glow of the computer screen. Images on the screen shifted rapidly. A young man in a T-shirt and shorts sat in his chair, eyes fixed on the dazzling display.
His expression was flat. His right hand gripped the mouse, his left moved briskly over the keyboard. From the slight gaps around his headphones, faint but intense combat sounds leaked out. The battle was fierce, yet he showed no sign of urgency.
For those who cared about their health, they would never be awake—let alone working—at this hour.
But for another kind of person, this was exactly when they were most alive.
Or when work truly began.
On the desk sat an empty cup of instant noodles and two opened cans of energy drink. A cigarette dangled from his lips, its ember flickering faintly. The rising smoke blurred his vision slightly, and with a small frown, he pulled it out and stubbed it into the ashtray.
A thin wisp of smoke lingered, as if reluctant to die out.
Because his hand had left the keyboard for that brief moment, his character froze for an instant. It was enough—he failed to dodge in time and took a heavy hit.
"Tsk."
He clicked his tongue in irritation, hands snapping back into place. His keystrokes grew sharper, faster. On the screen, rows of skills cycled through cooldowns in a dizzying blur—one finishing, another immediately ticking down.
Hydra was the dungeon boss his team was pushing to defeat. Modeled after the nine-headed serpent of Greek mythology, its massive body lived up to every bit of its hype. Each of its nine enormous heads spewed AoE Damage, throwing the team into chaos.
Even so, securing the first kill didn't seem out of reach.
Their guild wasn't made up of ordinary players. It was built around people who made money from the game.
In other words—a Gold Farming Studio.
To promote themselves, they needed to beat the top-tier guilds and claim this expansion's first kill.
Another ten minutes passed.
By now, they had fully figured out the boss's simple AI patterns. In the channel, the experienced raid leader issued calm, precise commands. With a thunderous crash, the medieval-style temple began to collapse. The grotesque monster let out a final wail before collapsing, black-red blood splashing across the ground.
Then, fireworks and petals burst across the screen in celebration.
At the exact moment of the kill, the team received their achievement rewards, and the first kill announcement flashed across world chat in crimson text.
Satoru let out a breath. He leaned back, hands leaving the keyboard and mouse, rubbing his tired face. In the glow of the screen, the unshaven stubble along his jaw was faintly visible.
"We actually got the First Kill. This Dungeon's only been out a few hours, right? Not bad. Guess you really are as good as they say—the guy who always takes my weird requests."
A message popped up from someone on his friend list—or rather, his client list.
"But honestly, fighting AI like this is still boring. PvP's way more fun. Especially open-world PvP."
Another message followed.
"You're right."
Satoru replied without expression, typing it out casually.
"So, wanna team up and head out into the wild? Find some people and mess around a bit?"
"It'll just turn into a group fight eventually. I'm not interested. Go by yourself if you want."
"Oh? What's wrong? You usually go out and kill people just to practice, don't you? Speaking of which, that first job I gave you was amazing. Sneaking into their party, gaining their trust, then wiping them all out in one go—I still have screenshots of their corpses saved."
"Honestly, it's just a game, a virtual world. But with the right setup, it feels like directing a movie. I'm impressed you'd even accept requests like that—and go all out to execute them perfectly."
It's just money for services, he thought.
And you're the kind of person who takes it further—posting it on forums, humiliating others.
Compared to simply killing characters, that was far more ruthless.
"I only did it to practice for arena contracts," Satoru typed as he exited the Dungeon. "But that's not necessary anymore."
"?"
"This game's reached the end of its lifespan. They've pushed out several expansions already. This one's heavily marketed too, but it still can't stop players from leaving. Haven't they been handing out tons of benefits lately? That's because the game's dying." His expression remained unchanged. "So I'm planning to AFK. Find the next game that'll take off, master it, and then make money from it. That'll take time."
"Textbook professional gamer. But are you really that strapped for cash? You've basically turned this into a full-time job."
"It's always been a job… I'm not like you. Didn't you say your family runs a hospital?" Satoru glanced at the familiar interface and sighed faintly. "It's late. I want to sleep early today. If you're interested, I can sell you my account. Cheaper than market price."
"You're willing to sell it? You've put a lot into that character. If it were just money-built, that'd be one thing—but the PvP ranking rewards are limited. The Sword Saint title suffix—there are only a few of those."
"As long as you understand its value. How about 300,000 yen?"
"300,000 for a top-five Sword Saint account on this server? Or even rank one—Yurnero? That's definitely cheap."
The other side paused.
"…No, forget it."
The reply came quickly.
"In my hands, that character would lose its value. I don't have your skill—I'd just make a fool of myself."
It's not skill. I've just figured it out, Satoru thought with a quiet sigh.
"If you don't want it, I'll hand it to the Gold Farming Studio."
After waiting half a minute and confirming there was no further response, he logged out of the game—his all-night grind and main source of income—without hesitation.
The screen returned to the desktop.
He glanced at the anime girl wallpaper, gave a small smile, and shook his head. Slowly, he stood and stretched his stiff body. His joints cracked faintly.
Even at night, he'd worked up a light sweat. Running a hand through his messy hair, he began cleaning up—throwing empty noodle cups and cans into a plastic bag, then emptying the ashtray.
This small third-floor room was his home. Calling it bare would be no exaggeration. There wasn't even an air conditioner—and even if there were, he probably wouldn't turn it on.
After all, he had no money.
Carrying the trash bag, he stepped out, tossed it into the hallway bin, and decided to stop by the 24-hour convenience store.
The landlady lived on the first floor. Only at this hour could he avoid her—and her relentless nagging about rent.
"Phew…"
In sandals, he walked down the silent street. The evenly spaced streetlights stretched his shadow long behind him. He glanced up at the clear night sky, clicked his tongue absentmindedly, then pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes.
If I quit, I'd save more money…
He'd had that thought countless times.
The lighter flicked. He exhaled a slow ring of smoke.
His footsteps echoed faintly as he headed toward his usual convenience store.
Satoru. Male. Twenty years old. Average height, thin build. Messy hair, fast-growing stubble. No real hobbies. His dream was to own a Zippo lighter—but considering the cost, he stuck with disposable ones. Favorite work: Fate/GO.Night.
His parents had died in an accident. His legal guardian was a distant relative. Financial support? None. He dropped out of middle school and never went back.
His current job—put nicely, a professional gamer. Bluntly, someone who worked for rich players.
Everyone has things they can do—and things they can't.
He had no exceptional intellect, nor the will to grind his body to the limit. Just another ordinary person, destined for mediocrity.
Fortunately, he had some talent.
When it came to games, he could see a move or two ahead. Since joining the Gold Farming Studio, at least he'd been able to get by.
Competition existed everywhere. In reality, he had no advantages left. Going back to studying now was pointless.
Better to find a path in the virtual world.
After all, when a system launches, everyone starts equal.
After finishing a cigarette, the convenience store came into view—not far from his apartment. Its soft light stood out in the darkness. The clerk had changed—a young woman now instead of the man from a few days ago.
Normally, he might have taken a closer look.
But today, his mood was heavy.
The game he relied on for income was dying. He needed a replacement—and fast.
Lost in thought, he entered the store. As usual, he went to the cooler for energy drinks, then picked out some instant food.
"That'll be 780 yen."
The clerk gave a polite, practiced smile as she scanned the items. Satoru pulled out his worn brown wallet, digging for change. Most of his bills were wrinkled beyond saving.
"Thank you for your purchase."
He took the bag and was about to leave—but something on the magazine rack caught his eye.
"Excuse me, can I take a look at that?"
"Sure."
He walked over and picked up the gaming magazine. NewGameNpy—he was familiar with it. This issue's focus was obvious from the cover.
"Quantum physicist, genius game designer—Kayaba Akihiko's gaming revolution."
The man in the white lab coat looked rigid and severe, like a textbook researcher.
"The new era brought by NerveGear."
"VRMMORPG! A true virtual reality massive online game! Release—battle day approaches!"
"A real fantasy adventure!"
"Sword Art Online…?"
Satoru murmured to himself.
He'd heard about it long ago. After the beta ended, player feedback had been overwhelmingly positive—some even obsessively so.
No game could please everyone.
But if it could win over such a wide range of players…
Its quality spoke for itself.
He hadn't played the beta. No time—and no access.
But one thing was certain.
It would be huge.
And where there were players, there would be demand for people like him.
Maybe even more than usual.
But… a VRMMORPG.
That was entirely different from PC gaming.
It required NerveGear.
A completely different platform.
On PC, he could multi-box—run multiple accounts at once, farm efficiently. He'd just upgraded his setup recently. Thinking about it still hurt.
"Should I try it…?"
The prospects were good.
But it meant spending money.
And with demand this high, pre-ordering online was nearly impossible.
Buying it in-store would be chaos.
He could already picture himself getting crushed in a crowd.
After a moment, he made up his mind.
…Give it a shot.
He flipped through a few pages, skimmed the introduction, then put the magazine back.
Picking up his bag, he walked out.
"Sigh…"
Another quiet breath.
Looking up at the clear night sky, the moon glowing faintly, he murmured to himself—
It's just a game, after all.