"Log out," Zein said.
The moment the words left his mouth, a black-void light swallowed his vision. Sound vanished. Sensation dissolved.
Then-
He was back.
Reality returned abruptly.
His room greeted him in silence.
There were only six things within it: the bed he lay on, a plain wardrobe for his clothes, a small drawer, a television mounted across the wall, his gaming setup neatly arranged beside and the elevator installed so his sister could reach him quickly whenever he needed help.
The headset he had been wearing no longer encased his head.
It had transformed.
Now, it rested lightly on his face as a pair of white, transparent glasses.
"Huh…" Zein sighed.
He reached up and removed them.
Placed them gently on the drawer beside his bed.
What?!
Then-
He froze.
Wait.
He stared at his hand.
I… took them off.
Zein's breath caught.
How?
How could he move his body?
That was impossible.
Doctors-the best in Korea-had examined him. Specialists from all over the world had come. His family had searched endlessly for a cure, a treatment, anything.
There was none.
The verdict had always been the same.
He could only live in solitude, trapped in his own body, waiting for the inevitable.
His heart began to pound.
Wait…
Zein focused.
Slowly—hesitantly—he willed his toes to move.
They did.
His eyes widened.
He moved his feet.
They responded.
His legs.
They obeyed.
Zein swallowed hard and shifted his weight, pushing himself up from the bed.
It worked.
He stood.
At first, his legs trembled. The sensation was unfamiliar—alien. He had forgotten what it felt like to stand, to balance, to exist upright.
But then—
He took a step.
Another.
Then another.
Suddenly, he was moving.
He ran across his room.
He jumped.
He spun.
He walked—no, paced—back and forth, touching the walls, the bed, the drawer, as if to reassure himself that it was real.
And then he stopped.
A thought surfaced.
Sharp. Dangerous.
If I can move my body…
His breathing quickened.
Does that mean… I can access things from the game?
His heart slammed against his chest.
Excitement surged through his veins, his body pulsing with energy he had never felt before. He couldn't suppress it—a grin spread across his face, stretching wider, sharper, filled with disbelief and exhilaration.
His hands clenched.
"Primodius," Zein commanded.
At first, there was no response.
No sound.
No screen.
One second passed.
Two.
Then—
["Yes, Master."]
Zein exhaled sharply, relief and excitement crashing together.
"Primodius… how is this possible?" he asked, resting a hand against his smooth, beardless chin.
A translucent window flickered briefly.
[Master, if you noticed in your status window, there was—]
[Reality Synchronisation: 10%]
[Game Synchronisation: ∞]
Zein's eyes widened.
"…Does that mean I'm able to walk because my Reality Synchronisation reached five per cent?" he asked, curiosity sharpening his voice.
[Yes, Master.]
[Each time your Reality Synchronisation increases by 1%, one element from the game is randomly integrated into your reality.]
"Oh…" Zein murmured, stunned.
Primodius continued, listing each change with precise clarity.
[1%: Me, Primodius. Your system interface was structured and condensed.]
[2%: Your stats were integrated. This is why you regained mobility.]
[3%: Your body and body state manifested.]
[4%: All perks were applied.]
[5%: Essence of ??? was integrated.]
[6%: Shop access unlocked.]
[7%: Inventory unlocked.]
[8%: Wishes unlocked.]
[9%: Quests and missions integrated.]
[10%: Origin Map unlocked.]
"Damn!" Zein shouted aloud, unable to hold it in.
No wonder I can walk… he thought, laughter threatening to spill from his chest.
He felt light. Free.
Happy—truly happy—for the first time in his life.
There was only one thing left to do.
"Sis!" Zein shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "Lisa!"
The elevator doors slid open almost instantly.
Lisa rushed out, panic etched across her face. "What is it—?!"
She froze.
Her breath caught.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She rubbed them violently. Blinked. Again. Again. She slapped her cheek. Pinched her arm.
Still—
He was standing.
Zein was standing.
For twenty years, her brother had been bedridden. Twenty years of hospital rooms, silent nights, whispered prayers, and quiet despair.
And now—
"Zein…" Lisa whispered.
Her voice trembled.
"How…?""How is this possible…?"
It felt unreal. Like seeing a ghost. Like witnessing a dream that should never, could never, come true.
"Sis, I—" Zein tried to speak.
The elevator doors opened again.
Their father stepped out.
He saw Zein.
And broke.
Tears streamed down his face before he could even speak. He pulled Lisa into his arms, holding her tightly as his shoulders shook. Joy and sorrow tangled together, spilling freely at once.
They cried.
All three of them.
For lost years.
For helpless nights.
For miracles that never came-until now.
Time passed.
Slowly, their tears dried, carried away like a powerful current receding after a storm. The weight that had crushed them for decades finally began to lift.
Lisa stared.
She couldn't tear her gaze away from what stood before her.
Zein was naked.
His eyes were an icy, void-like blue—still, bottomless. His hair had grown long, falling straight down his back, pristine and unmoving. His body was not merely well-built; it was a convergence of every ideal form taken to its absolute extreme. Bulky and lean. Athletic and assassin-like. Dense with power, yet perfectly refined. Eight flawless abdominal ridges carved into a frame that looked stern, durable, unchangeable.
He resembled something forged rather than born.
Like a brick that could never crack. A face that would never twitch. Eyes that would never blink.
And then—he moved.
He didn't simply stand there.
He walked.
Not merely better than any fashion model, nor better than any trained individual, but better than anything that had ever walked. Better than any person, group, creature, or being that could train for a million years, a billion years, an eternity, or even an infinite span of time.
Each step was absolute.
One foot forward. Posture perfectly upright. Eyes unwavering—locked onto something unseen, like prey already chosen.
There was no wobble. No hesitation. No pause.
As if this act—this walk—had been practised across trinities, eternities, infinities beyond counting.
He embraced them.
Though naked, he maintained a precise distance, careful not to let his body cross a boundary that would cause discomfort. Despite this, they returned the embrace instantly—naturally—as if they had been waiting for it for far longer than they realised.
After several moments, Zein withdrew his hands and stepped back slightly.
Jacob broke the silence.
"Son," he said, his voice steady yet heavy with emotion, "now that you can walk… what do you want to do with your life?"
Zein smiled.
"Father, I want to start my own business. I want to become the richest man in the world. I want to build countless structures, expand my influence across the globe—and if possible, expand Korea itself."
There was no arrogance in his tone. Only certainty.
Jacob was a multi-billionaire—globally recognized, a world-class figure, one of Asia's most powerful businessmen. Lisa was known across the continent as the most beautiful woman in Asia, a prodigy of singing, acting, and dance.
And yet—
Zein had once been nothing more than a crippled, unknown existence, hidden from the world's gaze.
His father had spent millions searching for a cure. Lisa had cared for him for seventeen years—since he was a helpless infant.
Now, Zein would no longer remain hidden.
He would repay every sacrifice. Every act of kindness. Every year of devotion.
Jacob was stunned.
It wasn't merely the scale of his son's dreams—it was the confidence behind them. The ambitions themselves bordered on childish fantasy. Becoming the richest man in the world was no trivial aspiration. Becoming a top-tier businessman, erecting countless structures—those were already mountains few could climb.
But expanding Korea?
That was impossible. The kind of statement people laughed at, then forgot.
Yet Jacob did not laugh.
He glared at Zein—not with ridicule, nor with scorn—but with a sharp, measuring gaze. A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite a smirk.
Approval.
He nodded once.
"Then, Zein," Jacob said, his voice steady—carrying pride, discipline, and the weight of decades of hardship, "I'll give you one week. Rest. Enjoy yourself. Do as you wish."
He raised a finger.
"But within that week, come to me with one solid business idea. Just one. If I approve it, that will be your first step toward achieving those dreams."
Zein's smile deepened.
Jacob paused, then added dryly,
"Oh—and put on some clothes. Stop showing off that ridiculous thing."
He shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"It runs in the family, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Father," Zein replied calmly.
He bowed.
Jacob pulled his son into one last embrace before turning away. His sister followed shortly after, leaving Zein standing alone.