Chapter 11
“Secretary Chu, I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you check this log too, Secretary Chu?”
Chu Yeong-eun’s expression didn’t change.
“Yes.”
Seung-eon smiled awkwardly and pointed at a part of the log.
“Then this part that says ‘kiss’—”
“Kiss.”
Hmm.
“And ‘sleep agreement’?”
“Probably refers to setting the frequency of sex.”
“Campfire in bed?”
“Sex.”
“Sudden rise in blanket temperature…”
“Isn’t that self-explanatory?”
Chu Yeong-eun clicked her tongue.
“They must’ve gotten hot from too much sex.”
She answered calmly, without a flicker of emotion.
The way she said such embarrassing words with a straight face proved that Secretary Chu truly had nerves of steel.
Sigh.
No matter how many times Seung-eon looked over the logs from the beta test, the records from those few days never disappeared.
She chuckled dryly, still baffled by how far she went in-game with a character that was nothing more than a bunch of pixels.
What was I thinking?
As she mulled over her actions back then, a sudden thought made her eyes widen.
“Team Leader Seo mentioned this before, right? That characters in the game are based on foundational models.”
“Game characters evolve with the times, but each has a base model.”
That’s what Team Leader Seo Yi-soo, the lead developer of ‘ECHO,’ had said. Each character in the game is built upon a basic model that adapts over time.
“Then if I find out who this hidden character was modeled after, I can figure it out, right?”
Hopeful that she had finally found a breakthrough, Seung-eon beamed, but no answer came.
As expected, Secretary Chu’s expression remained unchanged.
“…You can’t find out, can you?”
Secretary Chu replied coldly.
“For hidden characters who aren’t part of the main cast, some base model participants requested anonymity. Without their permission, we can’t access their data. Especially in the case of the character you’re asking about—the base model set their data as inaccessible.”
Seung-eon lowered her head.
“Are you really going through with this?”
Two hours later.
After reading the thick log documents three times.
When Seung-eon solemnly conveyed her decision, Secretary Chu asked,
“What you’re trying to do won’t change the outcome. It’s just a ‘replay’—reliving something you already experienced.”
Seung-eon looked at her with a bitter smile.
Sure, Secretary Chu wasn’t wrong. But it’s not like she had another option.
“You don’t know anything about the secret boyfriend hiding in the game either, right?”
“No.”
“And the model information is unavailable.”
“Yes.”
“So the only way to get any hint is through playing ‘ECHO’ again.”
“That’s correct.”
“Thankfully it hasn’t launched yet, and the logs can recreate the scenarios from back then. If I relive it, maybe I’ll remember.”
Seung-eon said,
“No matter what, I have to find that man.”
Even the smallest clue would be enough.
If I really did meet him through ECHO…
If that cursed condition she suffers when meeting men disappeared, and if she had even slept with him in real life…
“It has to be him.”
The only option she had now was to replay ‘ECHO.’
There were no other choices.
“Understood.”
When Secretary Chu finally nodded, accepting her request, Seung-eon smiled faintly.
“How long is the total replay time?”
“11 hours, 23 minutes, and 31 seconds.”
“So if I do it bit by bit, it’ll take about five days.”
When Seung-eon shook her head, Secretary Chu added bluntly,
“You have a mountain of work only you can handle. You’re not getting a vacation.”
Sometimes it’s unclear who’s the boss and who’s the secretary.
Seung-eon muttered under her breath, but Secretary Chu simply turned away.
“Then I’ll begin.”
Just before stepping into the large capsule, its lid open and waiting, she heard Secretary Chu’s voice.
“I hope it yields results.”
A faint smile crossed her lips.
I hope so too.
For herself. For Woojin.
And for the future of LUKIN and HG.
Seung-eon had to find clues about the hidden boyfriend inside ‘ECHO.’
Vrrrmm.
As soon as she laid her body into the capsule, a low hum echoed, and the lid slid shut.
Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beep.
The sounds grew louder, as if scanning her brainwaves.
“It’s that woman!”
A shout marked her entrance into the game.
“Everyone, that woman is the witch!”
“The witch?”
“She really was a witch!”
“She looks so normal though!”
Seung-eon flinched at the wave of cries and groans all around her.
The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was a rural scene.
She had just stepped out of a house on a hill, only to find a crowd glaring at her.
They were armed with sickles, plows, iron forks, and torches—all pointed at her.
Witch?
Are they talking about… me?
Before she could respond—
“The wicked witch shall face divine punishment!”
≪Among tens, hundreds, thousands of NPCs—there is only one true connection!
Your true love is waiting for you.≫
A virtual reality dating game: ERROR CODE: FIND LOVE.
Players entering ECHO experience dozens of time periods firsthand in search of true love.
Medieval times, Joseon, Goryeo, Ming dynasty, modern day, future worlds—the settings vary.
Each user is placed in a randomly assigned era and meets a randomly generated partner.
“There are three stages in total.”
Over the course of three time periods, players grow closer to the characters they meet, facing trials and hardships. Eventually, based on all they’ve been through, the player chooses a character to spend the rest of their life with—and the long journey of the game ends.
“What are you saying?”
A few months after Seung-eon had ordered development of the ECHO project, she had a private conversation with Jung Hee-do, who still seemed skeptical.
“You’re mixing real players into a world full of NPCs?”
Naturally, Jung Hee-do was shocked.
“What if the player ends up choosing an NPC, not a real user?”
“Then that’s fine too.”
Seung-eon replied casually, and Jung Hee-do gave her an incredulous look.
Smiling, she explained,
“Even though ECHO is about VR romance, the person they fall for doesn’t have to be real.”
Whether it’s a person or AI…
“We just have to provide comfort they’ve never felt in reality—and make them want to come back for more.”
“Whether the person’s alive or not… as long as the player is happy?”
“Isn’t that the whole point of VR?”
To let people escape reality and find joy in an unreal world that feels real.
That’s the goal every VR game developer strives for.
“…Would you do it?”
Jung Hee-do asked, watching her.
At the time, Kang Seung-eon had poured her entire fortune—and soul—into the ECHO project.
Faced with such an obvious question, Seung-eon smiled and answered:
“When the game is complete, the first person to play it will be me.”
Boom!
“Remember this. Tomorrow at noon.”
Wait a minute.
“There’s been a misunderstanding—”
Her body moved before her mind could catch up.
Because everything she was experiencing was something she had already gone through, it was natural that her hand instinctively grabbed the iron bars—just like she had before.
“What misunderstanding?!”
But before she could finish her words—
The people shouting at her turned away.
Thud!
The loud sound of a stone door echoed through her ears—and her head.
“True, the game’s initial entry point is a little overwhelming.”
That’s what Jung Hee-do had said, complaining about the game’s steep early difficulty curve.
“But it’s not impossible to overcome, right?”
Seung-eon had laughed in response.
Now she looked straight ahead.
A pitch-dark prison cell stretched before her.
Reinforced bars sealed the exit.
She glanced down. Shackles on her ankles.
And then came the final blow:
“Tomorrow at noon, we will hold the execution of the evil witch Sola!”
Not impossible to overcome, you said…?
If it starts like this… is it really possible to overcome it?
