Lilya drifted into sleep.
But it was not emptiness that awaited her.
Her consciousness floated free, slipping away from her body, until she found herself standing in a narrow room that felt unfamiliar—yet far too real to be called a dream.
The air was stale.
The light dim.
The grimy walls were crowded with shadows of tangled cables and electronic equipment.
In one corner stood a VR console, complete with helmet and sensors, all bearing the marks of frequent use. In front of it, an old computer remained powered on, its fan humming weakly, as if being forced to work long past its limit.
And before the screen—
A man sat hunched over.
He was overweight and unkempt. His hair was greasy and disordered, his pale face marked by uneven stubble. His shoulders sagged, his posture heavy—like someone who had long since stopped expecting anything from tomorrow.
Lilya stepped closer.
There were no fragmented memories.
No distortion.
She saw him clearly.
"…That's me," she murmured.
The name surfaced in her mind without explanation.
Hikaru Onodera.
The man's gaze was fixed on the monitor.
Displayed there was a game character whose face and figure resembled her almost perfectly—yet clad in armor far too daring for a village girl like herself.
Celestial Veil enveloped the avatar's body. Layers of pearlescent white armor etched with gold merged with a softly glowing crystal core at the chest. A translucent mantle draped from the shoulders, shimmering like a curtain of light that moved with every breath.
"..."
Lilya fell silent.
Her cheeks grew warm again. Seeing herself displayed so clearly—through another person's eyes—made her chest tighten with unavoidable embarrassment.
"Ugh… Hikaru," she muttered quietly.
"You really are a hopeless, perverted NEET."
But her attention was quickly drawn to a panel on the right side of the avatar.
Rows of numbers and text glowed calmly there.
"Eh…?"
"That's… me?"
"With stats and skills like this…?"
CHARACTER STATUS PANEL
Name: Lilya Asthon
Race: Human
Class: Sword Saint
Sub-Class: Sword Dancer
Level: 100 / 100 (MAX)
Titles:
Celestial Veil
Silent Sword Saint
Dancer of the First Blade
One Who Sees Herself
CORE ATTRIBUTES
HP: 98,500 / 98,500
MP: 62,000 / 62,000
Stamina: 120,000 / 120,000
PRIMARY STATS
STR: 9,850
AGI: 12,400
DEX: 11,900
VIT: 9,200
INT: 7,500
WIS: 8,800
LUK: 6,600
ADVANCED STATS
Physical Attack: 18,900
Critical Rate: 48%
Critical Damage: +220%
Attack Speed: +180%
Movement Speed: +250%
Evasion Rate: 62%
Accuracy: 95%
DEFENSIVE STATS
Physical Defense: 14,300
Magical Defense: 12,800
Damage Reduction: 35%
Stun Resistance: 85%
Fear / Panic Resistance: IMMUNE
ELEMENTAL RESISTANCE
Fire: 60%
Water: 65%
Wind: 75%
Earth: 70%
Lightning: 80%
Light: 90%
Dark: 55%
Spatial: 40%
BASIC SKILLS
Sword Slash – Lv.100 (Max)
Quick Step – Lv.100 (Max)
Precision Cut – Lv.100 (Max)
Chain Strike – Lv.100 (Max)
Air Cut – Lv.100 (Max)
UNIQUE SKILLS
Sword Saint Authority – Lv.100 (Max)
Heaven Divider – Lv.100 (Max)
Blade Absolute – Lv.100 (Max)
Soul Blade Manifestation – Lv.100 (Max)
Zero Blade Domain – Lv.100 (Max)
PASSIVE SKILLS
Perfect Blade Control – Lv.100 (Max)
Battle Instinct – Lv.100 (Max)
Killing Tempo – Lv.100 (Max)
Sword Mastery (Divine) – Lv.100 (Max)
Auto Appraisal – Lv.100 (Max)
DEFENSE SKILLS
Parry Counter – Lv.100 (Max)
Flow Guard – Lv.100 (Max)
Mirror Step – Lv.100 (Max)
Veil Resonance – Lv.100 (Max)
ELEMENTAL SKILLS
Flame Edge – Lv.100 (Max)
Frost Fang – Lv.100 (Max)
Thunder Break – Lv.100 (Max)
Wind Sever – Lv.100 (Max)
Light Blade – Lv.100 (Max)
"Hahaha… you're still so beautiful," Hikaru muttered, his lips curling in satisfaction as he stared at the avatar. His voice was low and hoarse.
"I can't wait to use this character again when—"
His sentence was cut short by the sudden chime of the doorbell.
Hikaru jolted, then let out a short laugh. "Finally," he said as he stood up in a hurry, the chair screeching loudly.
His foot nearly caught on a tangle of cardboard boxes and cables scattered across the floor. He staggered, steadying himself against the desk before heading toward the door.
Lilya followed silently.
Hikaru moved quickly toward the stairwell and began descending. As she trailed behind him, Lilya took in the surroundings.
Her expression turned sorrowful, filled with quiet pity—for the version of herself that had never tried to rise from this miserable life for twenty long years.
Lilya stopped at the edge of the stairs, watching from a distance.
The apartment door opened with a weary creak. Outside, the narrow corridor was just as dingy as the room Hikaru had spent his life in—flickering fluorescent lights, stained floors, air thick with dust and old oil.
A deliveryman stood there, holding out a medium-sized cardboard box. Clean. Neat. Far too "alive" for a place like this.
"Package for Hikaru Onodera," he said briefly.
Hikaru nodded quickly, a smile appearing almost reflexively. He accepted the box with great care—too much care, as if holding something both fragile and precious.
"Thank you," he said. His voice sounded lighter than before.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
But this time, it was different.
Hikaru stared at the box for several seconds without moving. His fingers traced the cardboard's surface, brushing over the shipping label, confirming his name and address—like he feared it would vanish if he blinked.
Lilya felt the emotion clearly.
Not overwhelming happiness.
Not long-term hope.
Just a small, pure, painfully human joy.
Hikaru crouched down on the cold floor, pulled a small knife from his pocket, and carefully sliced through the tape sealing the box. The faint sound of tearing echoed in the quiet room. He lifted the flaps, and his gaze was instantly drawn inside—to a cover far too grand for such a filthy space.
A pale golden sky stretched serenely. A symbol of an endless circle glowed softly at its center. And above it all, the title stood bold and unmistakable, as if calling to him alone:
ETERNAL REALM ONLINE — WORLD EXPANSION
New Dawn of Eternity: When the Realm Evolves Beyond Its Ending
Lilya understood it completely—not as a memory, but as emotion flowing fully into her. That fragile joy. That rare sense of belonging. Hikaru hugged the game box tightly to his chest and ran up the stairs toward the second floor, his breath ragged, while Lilya followed soundlessly behind him.
And then—
Lilya jolted.
There was a void ahead. A moment she had never witnessed.
Panic surged through her.
"Hika—me! Don't go up those stairs!!" she screamed, though her voice never reached him.
Hikaru kept moving.
On the fifth step, his foot slipped.
"Eh?" he muttered softly.
Lilya squeezed her eyes shut, wincing, as if the pain crashing into Hikaru's body tore through her as well. When she opened them again, she saw him collapsed motionless, blood spreading across the floor and seeping toward the game box that had fallen from his arms.
Lilya sank down weakly.
Both hands flew to her mouth, her face frozen in shock as tears welled up and spilled without her noticing. Before her lay Hikaru—helpless. His breathing was shallow, barely audible, his eyes half-open and unfocused.
And though his body could no longer speak, Hikaru's thoughts flowed clearly into Lilya's mind, one after another, without pause.
"So this is how it ends? I couldn't even change my life after all those years of misery."
A fragile laugh followed—not heard, but echoing inside her head.
"Haha… funny. Why am I thinking about this now? Right—people say death brings regrets like this."
His awareness faded, fragmenting like his breath.
"Ah… this is bad. My vision's going dark. What a shame."
Then, at the very end of that stream, a small wish—one he barely dared to voice—slipped through.
"If only… I could live again, I wouldn't waste the chance."
Silence.
"…But would that ever really happen?"
Lilya's eyelids trembled.
Slowly, she opened them.
Soft light filtered through the wooden window shutters. Not dim lamps. Not the darkness of a cramped room—but honest, warm morning sunlight. Birds chirped faintly in the distance. Fresh air drifted in, carrying the scent of damp grass and wood.
Morning had come.
Lilya turned toward the window, staring for several seconds, making sure this was not a continuation of the dream. Then she sat up on her bed, her movements slow, as if her body and soul had only just been stitched back together.
She raised a hand to her cheek.
Wet.
She paused, then let out a long breath. With the back of her hand, Lilya wiped away the lingering tears—tears that were not hers alone, but belonged to someone long dead.
She clasped her chest with both hands, fingers gripping the fabric of her nightclothes.
"Your wish…" she whispered.
"…has already come true for nineteen years."
Her chest felt warm and tight all at once.
"You are loved. You are surrounded by people who care about you."
Those words were not hollow comfort. They were truth.
The bedroom door creaked open.
"Lilya?"
Cecilia entered, carrying a bowl of warm soup. Thin steam rose gently. Her steps halted the moment she saw Lilya's reddened eyes and tear-streaked face.
Without a word, Cecilia quickly set the bowl on the small table and hurried to the bedside.
"Lilya, why are you crying?" she asked anxiously, kneeling beside the bed.
Lilya smiled faintly and shook her head.
"It's nothing," she replied softly. "Just a bad dream."
She looked at Cecilia—so close, so real.
"I'm grateful… to live happily here."
Cecilia stared at her for a moment, then snorted quietly. She pulled Lilya into a hug without hesitation, firm yet warm, like something she had done countless times before.
"Of course," she murmured near Lilya's ear.
"Idiot."
Lilya closed her eyes briefly, letting the embrace calm her.