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Join the ServerUser_1902 | Views: 1,983 | 2026-07-02
Honestly, it’s completely absurd to even entertain the idea that she isn’t running a cheat program. Evaluating this with absolute structural logic, it is 100% verified that she is executing hacks. So that leaves the core mystery: what exact brands of third-party programs has this piece of trash deployed up until now? Based strictly on what I’ve personally witnessed on this board:
Speed Adjustment Hack
Level Inflation Hack
Damage Output Inflation Hack These three are definitive. But haven’t people universally claimed that Zelfia is entirely hack-free up until now? Didn’t we pride ourselves on being a pristine, clean gaming environment? What brand of genius hacker crawled out of the woodwork to pull this off……
[Comments]
Tech_Bro: Engineering students, please step forward to analyze this execution.
Liberal_Arts: As a liberal arts major, I will quietly exit the premises,,,
Dev_Life: Speaking as a current working engineer, I honestly have zero logical clue how she executed this metrics manipulation;;;;
Tech_Bro: └ What university did you graduate from?
Dev_Life: └─ A tier you couldn’t possibly get accepted into anyway, haha.
Na Eun-hyeok quietly stared at the community post for a long moment before closing his laptop screen. Past the dark window where the display had just been reflected, a brilliantly shimmering nocturnal cityscape stretched out below him.
“The public sentiment has completely shifted against us anyway.”
Even by Na Eun-hyeok’s own logical estimation, concluding that Chae Un-ha and himself were executing some brand of cheat program was the most reasonable assumption for the player base to make. Unprecedented buffs that had never existed in Zelfia’s history were continuously manifesting; it would be far more bizarre if onlookers casually dismissed it as a standard game mechanic. He could choose to upload a direct screenshot just like last time, but when anomalies persist, people naturally begin to treat coincidence as a definitive certainty. If unrecorded buffs kept tracking specifically to him and Chae Un-ha, the player base would highly likely evaluate those screenshots as forged manipulation anyway. Since the Zelfia management team possessed absolutely zero intention of banning their accounts, remaining completely silent was the optimal strategy to execute right now.
However, the real core issue was Chae Un-ha.
Chae Un-ha—who was perpetually dense where it actually mattered yet excessively cautious in completely useless scenarios—would inevitably feel a profound sense of victimization if he became aware of this toxic community atmosphere. If it merely concluded with him feeling victimized, it wouldn’t be an issue, but driven by sheer frustration, he might choose to permanently log out of the game for good. In fact, evaluating how seamlessly Chae Un-ha had abandoned the game the exact second his identity was exposed, it was absolute fact that Zelfia possessed zero leverage to forcibly retain him. Right now, whether he was acting out of consideration for the remaining guild members or something else, he had merely returned to assist with the immediate guild war execution; there was zero guarantee of what would occur once this conflict concluded. Evaluating it through that specific lens, he felt almost grateful to Endless for initiating the offense. Thanks to their actions, a structural scenario had been generated that allowed him to continuously initiate interactions with Chae Un-ha.
He had invested so much structural effort to get him to log back in, and now he was facing the threat of him abandoning the game entirely again?
Tap. Tap.
His fingertips anxiously drummed against the black hardwood surface of the table. It was a repetitive physical habit Na Eun-hyeok consistently executed whenever a wave of pure irritation hit him. Chae Un-ha abandoning the game. Every single time that specific variable entered his mind, this profound annoyance flared up inside him. As Chae Un-ha had progressively started to aggressively evade him in reality over the recent days, he had painfully realized that Zelfia was the singular, microscopic thread left binding him to Chae Un-ha.
He picked up a solitary piece of chocolate he had set aside to pair with his wine and placed it on his tongue.
“Chae Un-ha.”
As he explicitly muttered the name aloud, the syllables melted into a distinctly bittersweet flavor at the tip of his tongue. For quite some time now, every single instance of voicing this name caused a tickling sensation to bloom in a corner of his chest. It felt as though the internal switch responsible for regulating his emotional boundaries had completely malfunctioned; his psychological state consistently turned bizarre the exact millisecond he stood face-to-face with Chae Un-ha.
Had he ever experienced an emotional variance of this nature in his entire life?
Never.
He had universally preferred to execute clean, absolute severances in all his personal relationships. Having people gather around his periphery was an entirely exhausting logistical nightmare. Human beings who expected absolutely nothing from him provided the ultimate peace of mind. He had permanently anchored his life to that philosophy.
So why, out of everyone, did this exception manifest strictly for Chae Un-ha?
‘Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m going to pretend it never happened anyway.’
If only Chae Un-ha hadn’t delivered those exact words in that specific vocal tone before he even had a chance to speak.
He had snapped. That was the most mathematically accurate description of his reaction. You’re just going to casually overlook this? Then how about this? A remarkably childish, immature impulse had violently flared up inside him. He was thoroughly incensed by Chae Un-ha’s incredibly detached, matter-of-fact reaction—by a delivery that implied not a single ripple of emotion had been generated inside his internal landscape.
Yet, conversely, witnessing Chae Un-ha genuinely direct anger toward him was something he found entirely agonizing to endure.
So he had resorted to brute-forcing his way into Chae Un-ha’s space, trailing behind him aggressively. He had concluded that he absolutely had to keep him within his line of sight until he could pinpoint the exact structural reason why his own emotional equilibrium was fluctuating so violently. For three consecutive days now, they had been executing non-stop bickering matches in both reality and the virtual space. The fact that Chae Un-ha treated him with such unrefined comfort was simultaneously pleasing and deeply unsettling. These ambivalent emotions scattered in a chaotic, dizzying blur, completely blocking him from selecting a definitive side.
He consciously erased the realization that he was deliberately ignoring the singular, obvious answer.
“…….”
Chae Un-ha had interrogated him today. He had demanded to know the exact reason why he had assisted him that afternoon.
For an exceptionally long period, that specific incident had been entirely wiped from Na Eun-hyeok’s active memory. When he had first encountered Chae Un-ha again after a massive time gap, the memory had been covered in such a thick, opaque fog that he merely felt a vague sense of familiarity tracking to his facial structure and vocal timbre. Yet, when that solitary fraction of a second randomly resurfaced in his mind one day, the distinct atmospheric conditions of that specific afternoon had strangely lingered inside Na Eun-hyeok’s heart for a considerable duration.
The structural reason he had felt absolute certainty regarding Chae Un-ha’s romantic feelings toward him was perhaps because that underlying memory made it feel like an absolute baseline expectation. Na Eun-hyeok’s deployment of basic courtesy universally invited those exact brands of lingering gazes, which was precisely why he strictly abstained from executing acts of kindness. Despite that core operational rule, the reason he had extended an entirely uncharacteristic act of kindness that afternoon—
‘You just caught my attention and stayed on my mind that day. Satisfied?’
Just like that truth he had snapped out in pure irritation, an incomprehensible, persistent hyper-fixation had aggressively disrupted his internal landscape.
He had zero logical clue why the sight of that pale, fragile man crouching on the pavement, entirely failing to properly piece his fallen body back together, had arrested his attention so thoroughly. On a campus pathway he would have normally traversed without a single drop of concern, he had deliberately gone out of his way to initiate an interaction. If the immediate convenience store lacked a bandage, he could have easily executed a return sequence with zero regrets; instead, because the image of those crimson lacerations etched against that fair skin remained starkly caught in his vision, he had literally sprinted all the way to the Student Union building and back.
A fleeting impulse—that was exactly how he had categorized the event back then. In actual fact, for a massive duration following that afternoon, Chae Un-ha and himself had zero overlapping trajectories. Even when he initially deciphered the reality of Chae Un-ha’s romantic fixation on him, the familiar, predictable boredom he universally experienced in those scenarios naturally took root instead of any foreign emotion, meaning he had zero requirement to ever re-evaluate that past incident. A person can easily execute an anomalous action completely outside their standard baseline once in a while. That was how he had rationalized it.
So why on earth was this happening now?
Lately, Na Eun-hyeok found himself thinking about that specific afternoon with an exponential, aggressive frequency.
An unquantifiable volume of impulses violently surfaced every single time he collided with Chae Un-ha.
It was akin to a massive, sweeping tidal wave. Entirely divergent from his normal operational parameters.
An absolute, irresistible impulse that defied any attempt at structural resistance.
That identical night, Na Eun-hyeok saw Chae Un-ha.
“Eun-hyeok-a.”
A reality where Chae Un-ha directed a perfectly bright, gentle smile toward his position was a logical impossibility, allowing him to instantly decipher that he was currently trapped inside a dream. The real Chae Un-ha had never once articulated his given name aloud, let alone displayed an affectionate facial expression of that nature.
Nevertheless, he possessed zero desire to force a termination sequence on this dream state.
“Why does your face carry such an immensely troubled expression?”
The Chae Un-ha existing within this dream landscape conducted himself with absolute tenderness. He didn’t display the sharp, bickering attitude that subtly yielded to mindless compliance inside Zelfia, nor did he manifest the flushed, painfully awkward paralysis that dominated his real-world interactions. He was entirely disconnected from the razor-sharp edge he had consistently displayed over the recent days.
Is that so? Is this the exact facial expression I have been desperately craving to witness from Chae Un-ha?
Na Eun-hyeok slowly blinked his eyes. The dream variant of Chae Un-ha widened his large, rounded eyes before executing a methodical, step-by-step advance toward his position. While his physical contours were exceptionally delicate and his primary features carried a soft impression, evaluating him from a close distance revealed a flawless, cat-like beauty. Every single time those massive eyes executed a blink, the minute tremors of his elongated eyelashes were completely visible. It was an absolute, unadulterated dream.
“Un-ha-ya.”
“Yeah, Eun-hyeok-a.”
Despite possesssing full cognitive awareness of the illusion, Na Eun-hyeok voiced the name aloud anyway. At that vocal cue, Chae Un-ha offered an exquisitely beautiful smile and responded without a single shred of hesitation. Quietly tracing his movements, Na Eun-hyeok extended both his arms wide. Chae Un-ha froze for a microscopic beat as if slightly startled, but he swiftly yielded a soft, radiating grin as he closed the remaining distance and wrapped his arms completely around his back. The absolute absence of somatic warmth reinforced the reality of the dream.
“Being right here with you feels incredibly wonderful.”
And yet, the dream version of Chae Un-ha flawlessly articulated statements that the real-world version would never conceive of uttering.
He swallowed hard. Despite the total absence of physical warmth, it felt as though he could distinctly register the phantom sensation of breath against his skin. Every single time Chae Un-ha’s fingers executed a cautious movement, the sensation of those hands carefully mapping out the musculature of his back was so remarkably vivid it made the hairs on his neck stand completely on end.
Slowly, he gripped Chae Un-ha’s shoulders to create a pocket of physical distance. Chae Un-ha’s lips remained curved into that identical, gentle smile. Boring his gaze straight into that face, he extended his hand to cradle Chae Un-ha’s cheek. In stark divergence from the visual flush painting his skin, zero warmth registered against his fingertips, yet his brain already thoroughly understood exactly how hot and velvety that specific patch of skin was supposed to be. Shifting his hand slightly inward, he pressed his thumb against the contours of those plump lips.
“Eun-hyeok-a.”
Every single time he articulated his name, the kinetic motion of those lips vibrated sharply against his fingertips. The crimson lips were incredibly soft and enticing. His hand slowly descended further, gently supporting the angle of his chin. The dream Chae Un-ha executed another mindless blink of his large eyes before thoroughly curving his eyelids to yield a deeply alluring, coquettish smile.
Na Eun-hyeok slowly closed the remaining space between them. The visual of Chae Un-ha gradually sealing his eyes shut filled his field of vision with absolute clarity. That slow-motion trajectory was exceptionally distinct, violently triggering a highly vivid, recent memory from his past.
‘Eun-hyeok-a.’
It wasn’t this illusionary Chae Un-ha, but the factual, real-world Chae Un-ha from the past surfacing inside his brain to call his name. That flushed face deeply intoxicated by alcohol, those plaintive lips heavily saturated with moisture as they desperately articulated his name, that ragged respiration—
‘I like you.’
And the exact rate of his own heart, pounding with an almost sickening velocity the exact millisecond those words were delivered. Every single component of that memory was preserved with such terrifying precision.
Na Eun-hyeok continuously closed the distance toward Chae Un-ha. By this stage, their physical proximity had shrunk to a threshold where the tips of their noses were on the verge of colliding. Moving a fraction closer—just a microscopic bit further until the remaining gap became dangerously thin—
“…….”
Na Eun-hyeok snapped his eyes open.
It was a dream.
Na Eun-hyeok sat up in the darkness and pressed his hand firmly against his forehead. Consistently hyper-fixing on Chae Un-ha during his waking hours apparently wasn’t sufficient; now he was actively generating full-blown dreams about him. Facing a non-stop sequence of phenomena he had never once navigated in his entire life left his brain spinning in absolute dizziness. The reality of his current psychological state was thoroughly infuriating. To make matters worse, the heavy, rhythmic thumping of his heart in this immediate scenario felt completely ridiculous.
Should I initiate a consultation with Ju Do-won?
You think this chapter was thrilling? Wait until you read There Is a Monster in The Imperial Palace! Click here to discover the next big twist!
Read : There Is a Monster in The Imperial Palace
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Dude, why we go back to the robot speak? I thought this was fixed awhile ago?
“It was akin to a massive, sweeping tidal wave. Entirely divergent from his normal operational parameters.
An absolute, irresistible impulse that defied any attempt at structural resistance.
That identical night, Na Eun-hyeok saw Chae Un-ha.”
No one talks like this. No one thinks like this.
Please say future chapters arent going to be like this again.