Jin-woo woke to the harsh blare of his phone alarm at 8:00 AM, his body protesting the meager six hours of sleep. His neck ached from the lumpy futon, and his mouth tasted like copper and regret. For a moment, he lay there in the gray morning light filtering through his dirty window, reality settling over him like a weight.
The VR headset sat on the folding table, still plugged into the wall charger. Next to it, his phone displayed the loan agreement he'd signed yesterday—$800 borrowed, $1,232 due in exactly thirty days. The numbers glowed accusingly in the dim room.
No time to waste. Every hour counted now.
Jin-woo dragged himself off the futon and stumbled to the tiny bathroom—barely more than a closet with a toilet and sink. He splashed cold water on his face, avoiding his reflection in the cracked mirror. When had he started looking so old? So defeated? Twenty-eight going on fifty.
He made instant coffee with the electric kettle that doubled as his only cooking appliance, the cheap granules dissolving into a bitter brown liquid that was more necessity than pleasure. While the coffee cooled, he checked the headset. The indicator light glowed green—fully charged. According to the manual he'd found online last night, a full charge gave him about six hours of play time before he'd need to take a break and recharge both the device and himself.
Six hours. He'd need to make every second count.
Jin-woo's apartment was so small that setting up the VR gear required minimal effort. He pushed the folding table against the wall to create a small clearing in the center of the room—maybe four feet by four feet of open space. The headset didn't require much movement for basic gameplay, but he didn't want to accidentally punch his wall or trip over furniture while his mind was in the game.
He placed a kitchen chair in the center of the clearing. The forums had recommended sitting or lying down for long sessions to avoid physical fatigue. His futon would have been more comfortable, but he worried about falling asleep accidentally. The uncomfortable chair would keep him alert.
After a moment's consideration, Jin-woo filled a water bottle and placed it within easy reach, along with a pack of crackers—the last of his food supplies. His stomach growled, reminding him he'd skipped dinner last night, too absorbed in research to eat. The crackers would have to do for now.
He picked up his phone one more time, pulling up the notes he'd compiled. The screen was filled with bullet points, farming routes, beginner tips, all the accumulated wisdom of hundreds of hours of forum reading compressed into a desperate survival guide.
One thread had been particularly helpful, titled: "I'm broke IRL and need to make money in ERO fast—realistic advice only."
The top-rated comment had been simple: "Roll warrior. Lowest gear requirement of any class. You can farm in starter gear until level 50+. Just pick up everything that drops and vendor it. It's not glamorous, but copper adds up. Don't try to play the market or flip items—you don't have the capital for that. Just grind, pick up loot, sell everything. Treat it like a factory job. Hours in = money out."
Factory job. Jin-woo could do that. He'd spent six months working soul-crushing minimum wage jobs. At least this factory was a fantasy world.
He set his phone down and picked up the VR headset. The device was heavier than it looked, the padding around the edges worn smooth from previous use. Someone else had owned this, had played ERO with it, maybe even succeeded where Jin-woo was about to attempt. Or maybe they'd given up, sold it, moved on with their lives.
Jin-woo couldn't afford to give up. Giving up meant homelessness. Meant complete failure. Meant never being able to face his sister or his niece again.
"Whatever it takes," he muttered, echoing last night's oath.
He sat down in the chair, adjusted his position until he felt stable, and lifted the headset to his face. The interior padding was cool against his skin. He found the power button on the side and pressed it.
The headset hummed to life, and suddenly the dim apartment disappeared, replaced by pure white void. Text appeared in his vision, floating in space:
ETERNAL REALM ONLINE Initializing Neural Interface... Calibrating User Responses... Please remain still.
Jin-woo's stomach lurched as the calibration began. The headset sent gentle pulses through his temples—not painful, but deeply strange. His body was still sitting in his apartment, but his mind was somewhere else, caught between the real and the virtual.
Calibration Complete. Scanning for Previous User Data... None Found. Welcome, New Player. Beginning Account Creation.
The white void dissolved, replaced by a vast starfield. Jin-woo felt like he was floating in space, stars wheeling around him in impossible patterns. It was breathtaking and terrifying in equal measure. This was what full-dive VR felt like—his senses completely overridden, his brain convinced he was somewhere else entirely.
A melodious voice spoke, seeming to come from everywhere at once: "Welcome to Eternal Realm Online. Before you begin your journey, please create your character."
The starfield vanished, replaced by a menu screen that hung in the darkness. At the top, a text box waited for input: Account Name.
Jin-woo blinked, figuring out the interface. His hands didn't exist here—instead, he controlled a cursor with his thoughts, selecting options by focusing on them. It was intuitive in a way that felt like magic.
He thought about his account name. Some players chose elaborate fantasy names, building entire personas. Jin-woo didn't have time for that. He needed something simple, memorable, easy to type when other players were hiring mercenaries or buying materials.
He focused on the text box and thought: JinPark
The system accepted it. Account Name: JinPark - Available
Good. One less decision to make.
The screen shifted, and suddenly Jin-woo was looking at a character creation interface that would have made his computer science professors weep with joy. Twelve races appeared in a carousel, each one a fully rendered 3D model that rotated slowly:
Humans - Balanced stats, no special traits, jack-of-all-trades
Elves - Increased magic damage, bonus to wisdom
Dwarves - Increased physical defense, mining bonuses
Orcs - Increased strength, bonus to intimidation
Dragonborn - Fire resistance, bonus to strength and constitution
Celestials - Light magic affinity, healing bonuses
Demons - Dark magic affinity, bonus to intelligence
Beastkin - Enhanced senses, bonus to agility
Undead - Negative status resistance, appearance penalties
Merfolk - Underwater breathing, water magic bonuses
Halflings - Small size advantages, bonus to luck
Giants - Increased size and strength, movement penalties
Each race came with elaborate lore descriptions that Jin-woo immediately ignored. He pulled his phone out in the real world—his real hands moving even as his virtual self stood in the void—and checked his notes.
The forums had been clear: "If you're min-maxing for efficiency, humans are actually great. No stat penalties, no weird racial abilities to worry about. KISS principle—Keep It Simple, Stupid."
Jin-woo selected Human. The other races faded away.
Next came the class selection, and this menu was even more elaborate. Fifteen starting classes appeared, each with detailed skill trees and specialization paths:
Warrior - Frontline fighter, high health, sword and shield
Knight - Defensive tank, protection abilities
Berserker - Aggressive damage, two-handed weapons
Rogue - Stealth and critical hits, dual wielding
Ranger - Ranged physical damage, bows and traps
Mage - Elemental magic, area damage
Priest - Healing and support, party utility
Warlock - Dark magic, damage over time
Paladin - Hybrid fighter/healer, holy magic
Monk - Unarmed combat, mobility
Necromancer - Summoner, undead minions
Druid - Nature magic, shapeshifting
Bard - Support class, buffs and debuffs
Artificer - Gadgets and constructs, intelligence-based
Summoner - Pet class, creature control
Jin-woo didn't even read the descriptions. He went straight back to his phone, finding the specific forum post he'd bookmarked:
"Warrior is THE beginner class if you're farming for money. Here's why: 1) Low gear requirements—you can use starter equipment forever. 2) High survivability—you won't die and lose 6 hours + 10% XP. 3) Simple rotation—hit things until they die. 4) Self-sufficient—no need for parties or support. You're not going to win PvP tournaments or clear mythic raids, but you'll make money, and that's what matters."
Warrior it was.
Jin-woo selected it, and the interface shifted again. Now he was looking at a default human male character model—average height, average build, a blank slate waiting to be customized.
The appearance editor was insane. He could adjust everything from individual eyelash length to the exact shade of skin tone. Sliders for jaw width, nose bridge, lip fullness, ear size. A full color wheel for hair, eyes, skin. Options for scars, tattoos, birthmarks. The level of detail was staggering.
Jin-woo spent exactly ten seconds looking at it, then clicked "Randomize" followed immediately by "Default Settings."
The character reset to a generic human male with short black hair, brown eyes, and an unremarkable face that could have belonged to anyone. It looked vaguely like Jin-woo himself, which was fine. He wasn't here to play dress-up.
A text box appeared: Character Name
He'd seen the debates on the forums. Some players chose epic fantasy names like "Darkblade Shadowslayer" or "Mystical Moonwhisper." Others went for simple, professional-sounding names for mercenary work.
Jin-woo went with the simplest option possible: Jin Park
It was his real name, Westernized. No flourishes, no fantasy elements. If someone hired him for mercenary work, they'd remember it. If someone bought materials from him, they could find him again easily.
Character Name: Jin Park - Available
Perfect.
The system prompted him one final time: "Are you satisfied with your character? Once confirmed, appearance cannot be changed without purchasing a premium reset token."
Jin-woo didn't hesitate. "Confirm."
The void dissolved, and suddenly he was looking at a status screen floating in the darkness:
CHARACTER SHEET
Name: Jin Park
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Level: 1
Attributes:
Strength (STR): 10
Agility (AGI): 10
Vitality (VIT): 10
Intelligence (INT): 10
Wisdom (WIS): 10
Luck (LUCK): 10
Health: 100/100
Stamina: 100/100
Mana: 50/50
Equipment: [None]
Gold: 0 copper
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
The melodious voice returned: "Your journey begins now, warrior. Welcome to Tutorial Island, where you will learn the basics of combat, crafting, and survival. May fortune smile upon your path."
The status screen faded, and the darkness gave way to light.
Jin-woo materialized—that was the only word for it—standing on a sun-drenched beach. White sand stretched beneath his feet, crystal-blue water lapping at the shore. Behind him, a lush tropical forest rose toward gentle hills. Above, two suns hung in a perfect azure sky, one slightly larger and more orange than the other.
The sensory overload hit him all at once. He could feel the warmth of the suns on his skin, smell salt and tropical flowers on the breeze, hear waves and distant bird calls. When he took a breath, the air tasted clean and sweet, nothing like the stale apartment air he'd been breathing moments ago.
Jin-woo looked down at himself. He was wearing simple cloth clothes—a rough brown tunic and pants, leather sandals on his feet. His hands looked real, moved when he wanted them to, felt the texture of his clothes when he touched them.
This was impossible. This was a game. But his brain couldn't tell the difference.
In the distance, he could see other players materializing on the beach, dozens of them appearing out of thin air every few seconds. Some stopped to admire the view. Others immediately started exploring, running toward the forest or down the beach.
Jin-woo noticed glowing markers floating in his vision—tutorial prompts showing him where to go, what to do. An NPC stood nearby, a cheerful-looking woman in adventurer's gear with a glowing exclamation point over her head.
He started to walk toward her, then stopped.
The view was incredible. The technology was miraculous. This whole experience was something that would have blown his mind a year ago, something he would have spent hours marveling at.
But Jin-woo didn't have hours to marvel. He had thirty days to make $1,232, and every moment he stood here admiring the graphics was a moment he wasn't earning money.