In a cramped apartment in Busan, Bora Cho, self-procimed rizz maxxer and terminally online sigma girl, y sprawled on her futon, endlessly doomscrolling through Instagram reels.

  "Geez, today’s moving slower than an unpatched gacha server," she muttered, poking at her screen with all the energy of a rice noodle.

  Her eyes were gzed over, her brain deep-fried in memes, and her stomach mildly irritated from not being fed her new cup noodle fvor—a travesty she would ter bme on capitalism.

  A dumb reel about AI-generated animal memes passed by. She snorted.

  “Funny at first, ngl... but it got stale faster than Twitter discourse.”

  She double-tapped anyway. Algorithms must be appeased.

  Then, her thumb stopped. An ad popped up.

  Generic Fantasy—the world’s hottest harem-dating-LitRPG fantasy game—pstered across the screen. It showed the main character, Light Bearer, doing another power-up pose. From beta male to aura-chad, his journey had captivated millions.

  Bora, however, was not impressed.

  “Still ain’t got that Lemuel aura tho…” she muttered with disdain.

  Lemuel Ark. The vilin. The shadowy king of aura farming. The one character who made every fangirl bark, howl, and write unholy fanfiction... despite the fact that he never appeared in-game.

  His entire existence? Hype and silhouettes.

  “Bro, even the final boss chick got an official art drop. Why’s the vilin still just a shadow with cheekbones?”

  She stared hard at the screen, hoping this was finally a teaser for Lemuel. Nope. Just another update on Light Bearer’s gym grind arc. She groaned.

  Then, her thumb slipped.

  A misclick.

  A random link in the comments.Suddenly, her screen glitched. A new tab opened.A job application site?

  “What the hell—this better not be some beta-tier phishing scam.”

  She tried to exit. Nothing worked. No buttons responded.

  “...Guess I’ll py along. Worst case? Malware. Best case? Billionaire sugar daddy opportunity.”

  The form was weirdly straightforward.

  Name: Bora ChoOccupation: Full-time meme consumerAura Compatibility: MaximumMoral Alignment: Flexible (frfr)

  Then came some strangely specific questions.

  Q: If you were Lemuel Ark from Generic Fantasy, how would you motivate the protagonist?"Just show I’m the giga chad and he’s the beta."

  Q: How would you intimidate your opponent during a chess match?"Say nothing. Aura farm."

  Q: Would you take the role of vilin for 70 billion won?“Absolutely. Frfr. On god.”

  She hit submit without a second thought.

  Then—everything went white.

  Her phone vanished from her hand. The room dissolved. Her futon, her cup noodles, her internet... all gone.

  She was floating in pure nothingness.

  “...HUH?!”

  Bora blinked.

  “Sheesh… this shiz is crazy.”

  Bora blinked at the endless white void around her. A few seconds ago, she was scrolling memes and mocking Light Bearer. Now?

  This looked like an Apple Store if it was turned into a void.

  A voice echoed through the space, smooth and robotic:

  “Application accepted. Welcome, Lemuel Ark.”

  “Um... that’s not my name,” Bora said, half-joking, half-hoping this was an eborate prank show.

  “No. That will be your new name and identity,” the voice replied, way too calm for something that just triggered a full existential crisis.

  Her brain gged.

  "Chat am I cooked or not?"

  She snapped out of her internal spiral and raised both hands like she was surrendering to the IRS.

  “Okay—no offense—but could you expin this like I’m five? My neurons are fighting for survival.”

  The void fell eerily silent for a moment.

  Then the voice sighed.

  “Fine. I’ll give you a system that can expin the specifics. I’m not paid enough for this dialogue dump.”

  That caught Bora off-guard. Sympathy bloomed.

  “Damn, I totally get it. Being a cashier sucked ass, fr fr.”

  There was a moment of mutual respect.

  “You totally get it,” the voice replied, almost emotional. “Anyway, I have to send you to the world of Astral Continents. You’ll be the vilin of the overarching story. We’re about to officially unch the game.”

  “Wait—it’s still in beta?!” Bora shrieked.

  “Always has been.”

  And with that, the void began colpsing inward. Light fshed around her, forming glitchy pixel streams as if reality itself was being rendered around her.

  “BRO I HAVEN’T EVEN PACKED—!”

  Too te.

  The world vanished, and Bora was gone.