Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CREAKKK~

A door slowly opened, the dim light from within spilling into the shadowy depths of a basement. At the top of the stairs, a small silhouette stood motionless, the faint outline of a figure consumed by uncertainty.

The oppressive darkness below seemed to breathe as if it were alive, exuding a chilling aura of foreboding and emptiness that gnawed at the edges of courage. Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of dread, an inexplicable pull drew the figure forward.

Step by hesitant step, the figure descended, the wooden stairs groaning softly beneath their weight. The faint light from above waned with each descent, leaving them increasingly engulfed in the void. From the foot of the staircase, a lone door   could be seen tucked away in the cluttered chaos of the room.

The magic circle etched in its surface seemed to hum with silent intent. It beckoned them closer, its mysteries veiled in an aura of quiet menace. And yet, tentatively, as their eyes adjusted to the blackness, a small hand reached for the doorknob.

CLICKK.

Behind the door felt like a sudden transition from night to day, and the small figure garbed in a cloak felt her eyes widen in astonishment. Before her laid a room of pristine sterility, its immaculate interior a testament to painstaking care. Sparse furnishings stood in orderly precision, each surface devoid of the slightest imperfection. In the center of the room, a bed rested within the glow of a large magic circle, its faintly shimmering symbols radiating a certain tranquility that permeated the atmosphere. The air was utterly pure—untouched by dust or bacteria—and infused with mana so clean it felt almost alive.

On the bed lay a young girl, her fragile form resting as if untouched by the weight of the world. The enchantment from the magic circle that enveloped her emanated a soft hum, inducing a deep and unbroken sleep. Yet, despite the tranquil façade, subtle signs betrayed the truth: her pale complexion, the faint twitch of her brow, the faintest furrow of pain that no spell could entirely erase. The magic circle worked tirelessly, cradling her delicate body, soothing her agony, and maintaining an environment so flawlessly sterile that the smallest infection—harmless to most—would spell her undoing.

In an attempt to calm the rapid thrum of her heartbeat, the girl’s trembling fingers brushed against the orange scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. She inhaled deeply, the soft fabric offering a fleeting sense of comfort.

Yet, her gaze betrayed her unease as it wandered across the sterile room. It was clear that the girl on the bed was being kept here under strict care, likely for her own safety. But then, why were her wrists and ankles restrained to the bed? Was she perhaps being kept here against her will—a silent prisoner within a pristine cage? Or worse, a helpless guinea pig in some sick experiment?

Sympathizing with the girl’s plight, the cloaked stranger knelt by her side, the soft glow of her power pooling gently in her hand. Carefully, she channeled it into the girl’s fragile body, watching with a small smile as faint color returned to her pale cheeks. The stranger’s movements were hurried but deliberate as she began to undo the ropes binding the girl’s wrists and ankles. Each knot loosened was a step closer to freedom.

But before she could finish, a sudden wave of hostility washed over her, thick and suffocating. Her instincts flared, and she froze, the sharp edge of malice cutting through the room like a blade. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her heart sinking at the sight before her.

Emerging from the stairway and into the room, cloaked in shadows that seemed alive, stood a man and a woman. Their presence was oppressive, their figures outlined with unyielding rage. Their faces were twisted with wrath, their expressions hard enough to shatter steel.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted!” the man bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls. In a single, savage motion, he hoisted an enormous axe over his head, the blade gleaming with deadly intent.

The girl’s lips parted in a soundless cry, her wide, frightened eyes fixed on the descending axe. The weapon’s arc seemed to stretch across an eternity, slicing through the suffocating silence as it hurtled toward its mark with a dark promise.

***

Several weeks ago, a wide-eyed girl stepped into the sprawling heart of Lunarel—the capital city of the Arcanum Kingdom. It was her very first time venturing in a human settlement, or anywhere as technologically advanced or civilized, for that matter.

The city’s towering spires and bustling streets felt like a world apart from the untamed wilderness she once called home. It was overwhelming, an entirely foreign plateau of existence. Yet, the unyielding hardships of the wild had left her with little choice. Misfortune had pursued her relentlessly, driving her to seek refuge in the unknown.

Everything that lingered in her company for too long eventually withered and died—just like the Mithrilcrest Deer and her baby fawn. Rai seemed to be the lone exception, but a part of her feared it was only a matter of time before the pup met a cruel and gruesome fate, worse than all the tragedies that had come before. It was partly for this reason she had urged the canine to stay with her savior until the boy was strong enough to stand on his own two feet.

Though the curse of misfortune that clung to her was relentless, Lunarel seemed like a beacon of hope—a human-made sanctuary with the power to exorcise the shadow that had embedded itself deep within her soul. The city’s boundless opportunities and vibrant diversity inspired optimism within her. Surely, within its expansive embrace, she could find a way to escape the unending cycle of loneliness and despair that had defined her life.

But, alas, her hopes were nothing more than fleeting illusions. It took only a single day for her dreams to shatter against the jagged rocks of reality.

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

Doors were swung shut in her face with unnerving force as she wandered through the city, desperately seeking help from private homes and businesses alike. It became painfully clear that no one had the slightest inclination to aid a complete stranger without some form of compensation.

Watching the bustling activity of the marketplace, she quickly realized the steadfast principle that governed the lives of the people here: economics and mutual exchange. To survive in this environment, she would need to offer something in return—labor, goods, or skills—in exchange for money, food, or shelter.

But—

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

“Get lost!”

“We don’t need your kind around here.”

“Go back to wherever it is you came from!”

“You filthy parasite!”

“…”

Absolutely one cared to spare even a moment of their time to listen to her words, and the few who did, offered nothing but disdainful glares that made her feel as though she would crumble under the suffocating weight of their contempt. Each cold rejection, each callous sneer, chipped away at her fragile resolve until her heart splintered, then shattered completely, leaving panic and despair to flood the empty spaces within.

“I’m truly sorry,” an old woman murmured, her voice trembling as she peeked timidly from behind her door that was opened to a slight ajar. “I don’t have enough to spare for another. Perhaps you could try the orphanage or the church instead.”

The little girl pressed her lips to a thin line and bowed her head politely before turning away. The streets were teeming with children like her, making it easy to surmise that the orphanages were likely filled beyond capacity. Lunarel—the city of dreams and boundless possibilities—suddenly seemed nothing more than a cruel illusion. Her lofty aspirations for a fresh start now felt like the naïve musings of a fool.

In truth, the city was just as cold and unrelenting as the wilderness. In the jungle, predators hunted out of necessity, taking only what they needed to survive. Here, in this human-dominated society, cruelty was wielded as a tool of power. Those who were not human endured relentless discrimination, unfathomable prejudice, or, far worse—a life sentence of slavery.

The once-bright gleam in the girl’s eyes had dulled, leaving only the shadow of her despair as she mindlessly trudged into the slums. Hopelessness and misery fueled each weary step. Overhead, dark clouds gathered, shrouding the cityscape in a somber gloom. The broken communities welcomed her with dreary, curious gazes, but no pity or compassion stirred within them. These were eyes sharpened by desperation—opportunists calculating how to turn her misfortune to their advantage.

Yet, the girl owned nothing of value beyond her freedom, and even that held little worth in a city where the slave trade had slowed to a near halt. Despite this, the homeless who lingered in the shadows were wary. They knew better than to sell one of their own into chains, for such a betrayal often led to their own downfall—many who struck deals with traders were captured alongside their victims. In this harsh world, trust was a brittle thread that was easily severed.

The nights were unforgivingly cold, food even scarcer than in the wilderness, and danger seemed to skulk in every shadow. After narrowly escaping the clutches of a drunkard seeking warmth on a particularly bitter night, the girl came to a grim realization: safety could only be found in numbers.