Park Yoojun was tired.
One of his friends had made him play the game—Adventure Sword.
He was a farmer not a gamer. Why did he even think he would enjoy playing, when his dear chickens were waiting to be fed, back home.
He sighed, for the twelfth time. And yes, he was bored enough to count it. He would have counted how many times he had breathed by now if it were not for the constant questioning as to if he were enjoying—by his friend.
Who was clearly blind, because what part of a man leaning against a tree gave any inclination of fun.
Fun was plowing the land, it was the fresh air, the shade—other than the first, all was here.
But Park Yoojun was not someone who admitted things easily.
Then he sighed.
And soon, he fell asleep.
Soft slumber beneath the mango tree. On top of the smooth grass. Watching a boring battle.
When he woke up, it was midnight. The sky was a beautiful orange and other shades of peaches.
He let the wind brush his hair.
On looking around a land with not a soul nearby, he understood his friend had left him.
This was the third time he had done that.
It was the fifth time he had played in this game.
He looked at the bracelet that was given by the system. He opened the game window. He tapped the exit option.
[NOT WORKING]
His eyes widened.
He tried again.
[NOT WORKING]
[NOT WORKING]
[NOT WORKING]
[TOO MANY TRIES–NOT WORKING]
The man slammed his head against the tree. He wanted to think that all of this was a bad dream. But the sunset was still prevalent. And his head hurt.
A lot.
He checked for a healing potion. Drinking it his head felt better. All those anime had taught him that healing potions were the best.
It made him feel a little giddy. He understood a little of the appeal. Of why games like these. They made you feel like you could live an adventure. Something different from reality.
He walked around, the wide green, and soon to become dark fields.
He checked the markets. Guilds and hunting grounds.
There was no one but the game Non-player-Characters.
He walked and walked and walked. But he found nothing.
As he started to run around, his legs shaking and his lips bleeding from all the biting.
A man who was far older than him, grabbed his hand.
"Could you take me home?" Yoojun wanted to ignore the man. But the man was injured. A bruise on his hand. A bleeding knee.
Park Yoojun gulped. He sighed.
Then he nodded.
They both walked, but the older man was clearly struggling. And so the man picked up the older man.
"Where is your house?" Yoojun asked.
"On…some fields?" The old man replied. His voice was airy and drunk.
"Do you…not know?" Yoojun bit his tongue.
"I do, I do…I just don't remember." The man mumbled, tears forming in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I miss my wife, I don't know what to do without her." The old man sobbed.
"Can you describe to me your house, or the area?" Yoojun somehow restrained the urge to curse the old man. If he was so useless, why did he get out of the house?
"It has cucumbers, I remember my wife giving some to me once." The old man held on tighter to Yoojun.
"There is a cucumber garden?" Yoojun sighed.
"No…she once said she was going to cut some of the eggplants as well?" The old man leaned his against Yoojun.
"A big vegetable garden?"
"Yes! There was my cow…posie!" The old man cheered, as Yoojun walked forward.
"Was it a farm?" Yoojun questioned.
"Why yes? How did you find out, young man?" The young man grinned widely.
"I need to help my wife! You see, my wife is sick!" He grumbled.
Yoojun just nodded.
"Where is it? In the fields?"
"Opposite to the field, really."
"Alright!" Yoojun suddenly ran towards the field.
He wanted to go home quickly.
If he could.
"I wanted my wife to get some sunlight, so I laid her down near the window!" The old man spoke, he smiled. It had been a long time since the wind was felt with such strength.
"Is that so?" Yoojun had no interest.
"My wife loves sunflowers, she used to grow them." He remembered his wife, his words graced with adoration.
"Uh-huh." Yoojun wondered if he would be loved like that one day.
He knew he would not be.
He reached the field. Sun was about to set and he was getting worried.
He ran around the sea-like fields. Carrying the old man. He wondered if the health potion had increased his strength.
Then he saw a little house. He jerked the old man who had fallen asleep.
"Is this your house?" He asked, and the old man who woke up confused brightened up.
"Yes! Yes!" He got off Yoojun and ran to the house.
The house had no light.
The wife must be really sick—Yoojun wondered.
The old man screamed and asked him to come.
Yoojun sighed and opened the game system—[NOT WORKING]
As he walked closer and closer, he could smell the rotting of vegetables. The smell of moths having eaten the cucumber, or the insects breeding on eggplant.
He ran a little faster.
And he could smell intense rot.
And as he got inside the little gate, the smell was unbearable.
"Come, come! This is my wife, isn't she beautiful?" The old man yelled from the sunlit room.
And suddenly it made sense why the room had no lights.
Because the old woman was never sick.
Yoojun watched as the old man swatted flies from the body. Skin sagging and hair falling. Nails degraded and the smell, the smell was horrifying.
He looked around. The garden was a mess. The cucumber and eggplants were dying.
But they were more alive than the old man's wife.
Yoojun scrunched his nose. The smell was unbearable. He was a farmer, he had held his own against pungent smells, again and again.
But the dead body was terrifyingly suffocating.
Yet, the old man held the woman's hands, as though she was there.
As though she was looking at him the same way he was.
Yoojun excused himself.
He walked out, out of the gate.
He threw up. Nothing just acid that had stayed in his body.
His eyes watery. He felt the worst about the old man.
His body felt heavy. He leaned against the gate.
He should run.
He should run.
He should run.
He opened the gate and went back in.