Ch.8Chapter 2. Erysichthon Protocol (2)

That wasn’t all. The “excellent seniors” who had persistently tried to contact me through texts and calls had all gone silent. My academic advisor had left the university due to “personal reasons.”

A few days later, my phone rang. It was the police station. I thought it was a voice phishing scam and mocked them before hanging up, but it turned out to be a real detective. Seeing how heartbroken he was, I cooperated fully.

“Did your senior graduates ever ask you to sign up for insurance or derivatives?”

“Yes.”

“Did they properly explain the products?”

“No. What’s this about?”

“It was an illegal multi-level marketing scheme. Your professor was the mastermind.”

Just like a late-night food delivery place with multiple phones for taking orders, all those colorful business cards belonged to companies owned by our academic advisor.

Our unlucky Moriarty of a professor may have been erased from the school roster, but he remained forever in our hearts.

A few days later, I received a call from the Student Club Federation.

“I’m the president? Why?”

“You’re the oldest student currently listed as an active member.”

“I don’t want to do it.”

“There’s no one to take over. No professors are willing to supervise either. There is one option though—if you really don’t want to do it, you can apply to shut down the club.”

This was probably their real intention. They didn’t want to close it themselves, so they could say, “We had to close due to declining membership.” I didn’t want to be their scapegoat.

“…By the way, there’s about 300,000 won left in the activity fund. If you want to shut down the club, you’ll need to use it all up first.”

Giving a proper send-off to a club with a 30-year tradition didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

I forgot all about receipts and commemorative photos. All I remembered was that using the money alone would be embezzlement, so I called some first-year students who shared my “risk-averse tendencies” or “lack of seed money.” They were all younger than me.

“Let’s have one dinner together and then disband.”

“But where should we go? With 300,000 won for four people, it seems like we need to go somewhere really expensive.”

Suddenly, I remembered a coupon I’d forgotten about. The one with the infuriating condition that drinks would only be provided to customers who spent over 10,000 won—the coupon that taught me the importance of reading terms and conditions.

“I have a family restaurant coupon, so let’s go there.”

Everyone else there was with lovers or family. When the four of us—gloomy, seemingly antisocial men who probably became active only in front of monitors—mumbled our orders, the part-timer snapped at us like a sharp-tongued maid to speak up.

“…It seems like the plates cost more than the food. Why are the portions so small?”

We all silently picked at our food with forks and knives. The meal we waited 20 minutes for disappeared in 5 minutes.

Feeling that we couldn’t just leave like this, everyone forced awkward smiles that made me feel suffocated.

But there’s always someone who takes initiative.

“Hey, club president, don’t you play games?”

I should have ignored that question.

“Drop the formalities. And no, I don’t play games.”

“Then what do you do for fun?”

I didn’t tell them that watching cat and dog videos was my joy. That was my private pleasure.

At first, I enjoyed just watching those cute creatures rolling around, but at some point, training videos started appearing in my related searches, and it gradually turned into something like a hobby.

There was a strange satisfaction in it. Like the joy of an orchestra conductor, seeing how public opinion shifted one way or another at the touch of my finger—something that comforted me during my difficult year of retaking entrance exams.

The difference was that while internet forum users were always angry, dogs and cats seemed happy.

People would get angry if I tried to act like their master, but animals preferred that certainty. Just imagining them panting, rolling over to show their bellies, or clinging to my legs while looking up at me was satisfying enough.

Someday I’ll get one.

My classmate suddenly thrust his phone in front of me.

“…What’s this?”

“Oh, this is a game from a new company that’s getting really good reviews. There’s even talk about them going public.”

No matter how much the domestic market suffers from the so-called “Korean discount” for foreigners or is mocked by Koreans as a perpetual “box office,” it’s still a proper, reliable place. Only truly exceptional companies can be listed on the stock market.

The idea that a new game company could be discussing going public seemed like an exaggeration, but I was curious.

“Oh, is this about raising demons?”

My classmate quickly hid the picture of a half-naked female demon and showed me a more somber image—a twisted human figure contorting its body against a dark background.

“Erysichthon Protocol”

“…Erysichthon Protocol?”

“Yeah, cool, right? It’s registered as a domestic studio, but all the developers are foreigners. There’s a rumor that the financial backer is a company completely unrelated to the gaming industry… Anyway, they have a lot of money and talent.”

I only half-listened to the rest of the explanation. It wasn’t just because I felt excluded and rebellious as the three of them pretended to know everything about games—the explanation was just too complicated.

That was my first encounter with this game.

* * * * *

I remember that night of disillusionment as I staggered into my rented room.

The glittering city night that sat there innocently despite trying to deceive me. The signs that struck me with their colors, brighter than the stars in the sky.

…So, I can do the same to the world, right? This isn’t about good or bad. It’s about what’s natural and what’s not. People are to be used according to their usefulness, not to be trusted or relied upon.

That obvious truth I had been pushing away seemed to rush in all at once.

But with no way to soothe this strange loneliness, I installed Erysichthon Protocol on my laptop as my freshman classmate had suggested, and I got hooked more easily than expected.

Here, everyone was everyone’s enemy. There were only people trying to kill me. So, I could kill them freely too.

Using them. Exploiting them. Discarding them.

They say games are an escape for some people? That’s true. At least it was for me. Thanks to venting everything here, I could act like a normal human being in reality.

Here, I discovered an unexpected talent: making others fight each other, avoiding danger myself, and taking only what was important.

I could easily spot points where I could provoke anger or push buttons.

People call it stirring up trouble or trolling. I call it using the enemy against the enemy.

In society, such behavior would get me ostracized.

But here it doesn’t matter. Because it’s not reality. It’s virtual. And above all, because it’s fun.

The game developers probably didn’t anticipate this style of play, as it still worked well.

But now, I’m not sure. Whether it will work or not.

Too much has changed. First, a safe zone… or according to Hans, a “human protection zone” has been newly established.

The elements of conflict between nations were originally just part of the setting. In the game, they were just additional descriptions attached to various items. Like how I could tell at a glance that the ID Hans sent to my phone was fake.

So, in a game where you could just kill everything you saw and survive alone, story and narrative have been introduced. And that narrative and tension are likely to flow in directions I don’t know.

Of course, I’ve played through all the time periods. Right after the plague spread. A week later. A month later. A year later. Ten years later. I know how this world changes.

But I’ve never experienced the midst of the plague spreading, before all social systems completely collapse. The ending won’t be much different.

Everyone dies. This world will be the same. But how they die and what process they go through will be vastly different from what I know.

…It’s become not so different from real life.

* * * * *

I finished opening the condensed milk can with my hunting knife. It was already half empty from sipping it while cycling yesterday.

There was no point in carrying an opened can around. I carefully pushed the lid open with the knife, making sure not to cut my hand.

I tilted the can and drank the sticky, sweet condensed milk. I loved the sensation of it clinging thickly to my tongue. The feeling of sweetness filling the space between my teeth made me happy.

I forced myself to pull away from the can and chewed the condensed milk in my mouth. Of course, there was nothing to chew, but I wanted to feel like I was “eating” something.

My stomach growled, demanding more. I took a sip of water and tilted the can again.

Once the sweetness entered, I couldn’t stop. I drank water in between to prevent my throat from clogging, but each time the sweetness washed away, making the next sip even more delicious.

“I’m hungry.”

I startled myself with the mumble. It wasn’t because I made a sound. I had eaten half a can of condensed milk. 200g out of 400g. At 320kcal per 100g, that’s already 640… more calories than two bowls of rice.

Of course, condensed milk isn’t rice or bread; it’s closer to cream. But it’s also incredibly sweet and rich. Yet my stomach was demanding more, becoming even more active than when I was starving. My mouth watered so much that the root of my tongue ached.

“There’s no more…”

After some deliberation, I poured water from my bottle into the empty can and shook it slightly. I was so hungry I was going crazy, so I had to do something. If I hadn’t been conscious of the sharp edges, I might have licked it clean with my tongue.

“Hah.”

Only after unintentionally filling my stomach with water did my meal end. I had finished a 500ml plastic water bottle over yesterday and today. With the condensed milk gone too, all I had left was a sip of water and one unopened sausage.

Now is not the time to travel long distances. I need to find food and water in this area before moving on to the next region.

Staying in one area to gather sufficient resources, thoroughly scouting the next area before moving, then occupying and securing it.

These three steps are the most basic survival method. If you load up with supplies and head to an unknown place, you’ll just end up being a treasure goblin for others.

This container isn’t a permanent base, but it can serve as a temporary storage. Since people don’t know about it much or only stay briefly, even the game company that tracks and updates “player patterns” won’t have much data on this place.

But I shouldn’t stay long either. Just a day or two, looking for nearby areas to prepare for a long-distance move in one go. That’s all I’m planning.

Again, I’m getting hungry.

* * * * *

I had my suspicions, but standing in front of the mirror confirmed it.

Something is wrong with my body.