Darkness filled the room
not the comforting kind that invites sleep,
but the heavy, suffocating kind that sticks to your skin.
Only the glow of the monitor cut through the void.
The light flickered across a pale face, hollow eyes locked onto the screen.
[Boss defeated you.]
[Retry?]
The words pulsed in front of him like a heartbeat.
Han Jaeho didn't move.
His fingers trembled faintly above the keyboard, knuckles white, joints stiff.
The sound of rain tapping faintly on the window was the only thing that proved time hadn't stopped.
In the corner of his second monitor, the stream chat scrolled relentlessly.
"HAHAHAHA again??"
"Bro, how many years has it been?"
"Just give up, man."
"Is this guy even alive?"
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Jaeho's mouth. It wasn't amusement.
It was exhaustion pretending to be humor.
"Yeah…" His voice was hoarse, cracking from days of no rest. "Guess I'm still alive."
He leaned closer, eyes bloodshot and dry.
The reflection staring back at him in the dark glass was a ghost of a man.
Dark circles sank under his eyes. His hair clung to his forehead in greasy strands.
He'd been at this for hours
no, days.
Sleep came in snatches of thirty minutes. Meals were skipped, forgotten.
Only Eternal Abyss mattered.
Four years.
Four years of pain, obsession, and humiliation.
He'd lost subscribers.
Lost friends.
Lost… himself.
But he couldn't stop.
He couldn't.
Because Eternal Abyss was the only thing left that still felt real.
He dragged his mouse, the plastic scraping faintly against the old desk.
Click.
Load.
The title screen flickered to life.
[Entering the Abyss…]
The game's world swallowed him once more a black sky torn open by lightning, an ancient cathedral half-submerged in shadows, and at its center, a winged figure cloaked in chains.
The Final Boss.
Jaeho's hands steadied. The fatigue in his muscles faded, replaced by instinct.
He could hear his own heartbeat syncing with the game's orchestral soundtrack.
His fingers began to move.
Clack—
Parry.
Roll.
Dodge.
Steel clashed against darkness, each impact echoing like thunder. Sparks burst from the blade.
His character moved with grace sharpened by thousands of failures.
"He's doing good this time."
"No way he clears it lol."
"He always chokes in the end."
He ignored the chat. For once, the noise faded.
All that existed was him, the rhythm, and the monster in front of him.
For a moment, it almost felt beautiful.
Each movement, perfect.
Each strike, clean.
He could see the boss's health bar shrinking, pixel by pixel.
This was it.
This time, he'd win.
His breathing quickened. His chest tightened. His whole body leaned forward, drawn toward the screen.
[Phase III: The Abyss Awakens.]
The boss screamed, chains snapping, light bursting from its wings.
Jaeho dodged every hit—perfectly.
His character danced between death itself.
Then came a new animation.
Something he'd never seen.
[Phase IV Initiated.]
"What…?"
The boss's sword shattered into fragments of light that rained down like meteors.
His hands froze. For just one heartbeat.
And in that single hesitation
[You Died.]
The world turned red.
Silence.
Jaeho's chest rose and fell, shallow, trembling.
His ears rang.
His throat tightened.
The chat exploded.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"NEW PHASE!! HE'S DEAD AGAIN!!!"
"Imagine dying to content you'll never clear."
"What a joke."
He stared at the screen until the words blurred.
It didn't feel real anymore.
Four years.
Thousands of hours.
And still, he was nothing more than a clown to them.
He leaned back in his chair, its old frame creaking beneath him. The shadows of his messy room stretched across the floor like scars.
Maybe… it was time to stop.
He looked down at his trembling hands.
The skin was pale, veins visible under the soft glow of the monitor.
"I guess this is it," he whispered.
He turned off the stream.
The sudden silence was deafening.
No chat.
No notifications.
No voice in his headset telling him to "try again."
Just… quiet.
He sat there, breathing slowly, his body sinking deeper into the chair.
His eyes drifted toward the wall empty except for old sticky notes, reminders of strategies that never worked.
For a moment, he saw himself as if from a distance
a young man sitting alone in a small room, surrounded by trash and broken dreams.
He tried to laugh, but it came out as a rasp.
"Unbeatable, huh? Guess they were right."
His vision blurred slightly. The edges of the world seemed to soften.
He rubbed his temple, feeling a faint throb behind his eyes.
"I'll… sleep after this."
He pushed himself up from the chair.
But his body didn't agree.
The world tilted.
A rush of dizziness hit him like a wave.
He stumbled, his hand missing the edge of the desk.
Then—
CRACK.
Pain exploded across his skull as he hit the corner of the table.
He fell to his knees, hand clutching his head. Warmth spread across his fingers.
"Ah… dammit…"
His heartbeat echoed in his ears like distant thunder. His vision flickered. The screen ahead split into three, then two, then one.
Everything felt heavy.
Too heavy.
He slumped to the floor, breath shallow.
The monitor's light dimmed and stretched, painting the room in ghostly white.
He tried to speak.
Tried to laugh.
Tried to curse one last time at the world that refused to let him win.
But all that came out was a whisper.
"If I could just… one more time…"
His eyes flickered toward the screen.
The words Game Over still glowed faintly.
Even now, it felt like it was mocking him.
He reached out weakly, fingertips brushing against the cold light.
"Just one more chance…"
The glow wavered, and his hand fell.
The hum of the computer was the last thing he heard.
Then—
nothing.
The rain stopped.
The room stilled.
And Han Jaeho, the man who tried to beat the unbeatable,
closed his eyes for the last time.
> [Connection Lost.]