The biggest proof of how far I had come in the world of programming was that I had begun selling my work in organized archives. Even though I never used my real name online, I had, over time, turned into something like a brand.
I wasn't very social in real life, yet online, I had worked with and sold to countless people.
Until that day, not a single person at my new school knew I was involved in any of this—at least, not until someone from my past recognized me. Or rather… he recognized my name.
His name was Eren. He was also fifteen, just like me.And somehow, despite never meeting face-to-face before, he spotted me immediately. We only knew each other by our usernames, but he had clearly put two and two together.
Before long we were hanging out regularly. Our conversations were long, sometimes stretching into hours. Sharing the same interests made it easy for us to open up. Even then, I had a feeling this friendship would last.
I didn't talk much about my personal life, but we exchanged knowledge and started developing new hobbies together. He showed me his original game effects and designs, and I told him about the well-known programmers I had met through a few online communities I was part of.
...
One day, I came across a story that fascinated me more than anything else I had read. It was written by a man describing his own life. His philosophical ideas and unusual concepts felt almost unreal.
Unfortunately, there was no way to contact him. He was an illusionist—one who designed something new for every performance. People competed just to uncover the mechanics behind his tricks. Yet the thing he focused on most was illusion without deception.
In other words: magic. The dream of creating something breathtaking within the boundaries of physics.
His ideas resonated deeply with me. Even though Eren couldn't help much with this part, I continued the research on my own. Unlike the illusionist, I wasn't interested in using the laws of physics. I wanted to change them.
This question kept haunting me: In a universe built on perfect harmony, could a small touch truly create change?
If it worked, it meant the system of my dreams might not be just a fantasy after all.
In my spare time, I used everything I knew in an attempt to interact with the real world. It didn't matter that none of it made logical sense—I wasn't bored for a second. I kept experimenting. I even injured myself once dealing with electricity.
My simplest tests were the most frustrating: dropping two objects in a vacuum and trying to alter the time they spent suspended in the air, purely through code.
If I could manipulate even the tiniest region of gravity, the test would succeed. But hundreds of attempts led to nothing.
Every day, I pushed forward, adjusting something, trying again.
Then came the moment things changed. In the second half of my third year of high school, I began noticing strange anomalies.
Every ten attempts or so, there were slight inconsistencies.Objects that should have fallen in exactly one second began falling in 1.01… sometimes 1.05 seconds.
At first I refused to believe it. But the same symbols, the same commands, produced the same deviations again and again.
Had I discovered something revolutionary? The thought terrified me. Even the smallest mistake could have catastrophic consequences. I was only altering tiny, controlled areas for now…
But what if one day, the area became bigger?
What if someday, I changed too much?