Ch. 13

Ghost Dance

***

“……I’m not a hacker.”

Rin’s careful words, as if defending herself, made Han-ah snap back to attention, trying to suppress her emotions.

‘Stay calm… Keep calm.’

Han-ah regulated her breathing and quickly organized her thoughts.

She was currently broadcasting. Rin, hadn’t been proven to be using hacks yet. If she acted rashly or made mistakes, it could backfire later, making her look like she had falsely accused Rin and reversing the situation.

Moreover, since the game company was strict about security, the fact that Rin was openly playing the game might indicate a low possibility of hacking.

Han-ah could tell without checking the chat that chaos had ensued, just by seeing the hologram window rapidly filling up in her field of view.

“Yeah. One should always be cautious, ‘a slip-up is enough to ruin everything.'”

Honestly, because of the chats from the previous user named ‘Rin,’ she had already internally labeled her as a malicious viewer.

But with her unconventional appearance and the careful way she spoke, there was something dubious about calling her a hacker so easily.

“Ah, umm!”

After briefly clearing her throat and calming her emotions, Han-ah spoke again cautiously.

“Um, Rin?”

Despite being addressed by Han-ah, Rin just stared at her without any response.

Was it because of the mention of the hacker just now?

Han-ah felt a slight stiffness in her expression, and even a sense of urgency as if her insides were burning.

“If my words earlier… offended you in any way, I apologize. But, um, do you happen to know that there’s a video circulating in major communities or on NewTube discussing something related to you?”

“Is that about… captured by the outlaw named ‘…Assholedestroyer’?”

Rin vaguely mentioned the nickname in front of her. What kind of nickname was ‘Assholedestroyer,’ and why didn’t the game censor such vulgar words?

Han-ah thought she still knew about it as she opened her mouth again.

“Yes, that’s right. In that video, your controls and the way you dodge projectiles seemed… um, too… um, how should I put it? Ah, yes! They seemed too impressive, so everyone is misunderstanding the situation.”

Han-ah stumbled in her words, unable to directly say that the dodging seemed ‘too much like a hacker.’ But Rin understood the meaning behind her words.

Yet, despite Han-ah’s attempt to continue the conversation, Rin nodded slightly and kept looking at Han-ah, as if urging her to go on.

“I get the impression that you’re not a user who uses hacks by looking at you now? So, even if you hear what I say later, I hope you don’t get too upset or misunderstand! Are you okay with that?”

“Yes… Well, I actually wanted to prove that I’m not a hacker. Please, go on.”

When Rin responded with a slightly relaxed demeanor instead of just nodding, Han-ah’s expression brightened considerably. After swallowing her saliva, Han-ah resumed speaking.

“Um, well, I’m just asking to make sure, so please don’t misunderstand, Rin. You didn’t use any ‘hacks’ or ‘unauthorized programs,’ right? The skills shown in that video are truly your ‘abilities,’ right?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

Rin answered firmly and without hesitation.

Han-ah wondered for a moment if Rin could really be telling the truth.

But she quickly dismissed that thought and continued.

“With such remarkable skills, why don’t you participate in arenas or become famous? You must have been in some PVE parties before.”

Han-ah’s question was crucial. She couldn’t understand how someone with such conspicuous appearance and exceptional skill could remain unknown.

Rin paused for a few seconds before answering.

“…I just like hunting monsters alone.”

She wasn’t sure if Han-ah believed her own words.

But that was the truth. She had nothing else to say.

She had spent all her time in Dark Ark hunting monsters by herself.

And she had only started playing this game today, so how could she be famous? She couldn’t think of any good explanation.

“Ah, um, I see.”

Han-ah replied with a blank expression.

She clearly didn’t buy it.

‘…Well, whatever.’

She knew that the only way to verify if Rin was a hacker was to fight her in a real PvP battle. And Rin was confident that she could prove herself with her skills.

“Um…”

Han-ah, torn between doubt and curiosity, decided to ask an easy question.

The situation had turned into an interview with Rin rather than a confrontation or a discussion. But it didn’t matter.

The viewers were probably curious about Rin too.

“Um, can I ask what your arena tier is, Rin? You said you don’t enjoy arenas, but what about your previous season tier?”

“I don’t have any arena records, it shows as ‘no tier.’ I don’t have any previous season tiers either.”

Rin answered promptly, as if she had expected the question.

Han-ah blinked, looking at Rin.

Even on a second glance, Rin’s character, a graceful female character, was so meticulously crafted that Han-ah wanted to ask how she did it.

‘Yeah, she’s definitely not a hacker. She doesn’t even do arena PvP, only solo monster hunting.’

But in the video, she had effortlessly dominated a notorious PK player and timed parries that even top-tier players struggled with four times in a row.

Even Han-ah’s brother, Jakjae or in-game name ‘Drop Dead,’ who belonged to the top tier in Another World, had been impressed by Rin’s skills when he watched the video.

Jakjae had watched the video over and over again, and he had never heard of or met Rin before. And after hearing her brother say Han-ah had almost concluded that Rin was a hacker.

“So… am I supposed to believe this?”

But she couldn’t voice the doubts that plagued her.

Rin’s confidence and quick responses stopped her from jumping to conclusions.

‘Ugh… I don’t know.’

She was curious about the chats that filled her field of view.

She was lost in thought for a moment, and the silence stretched on. Then Rin spoke first.

“Han-ah? Aren’t you going to join me in the arena?”

“…Ah, the arena?”

Han-ah blinked in confusion, as if she didn’t understand what Rin meant.

“Didn’t you invite me to the arena? You said you wanted to see my skills.”

“Well, that’s true. You were a bit… rough in the chat.”

Han-ah looked at Rin, wondering if she was offended by the chat. But Rin seemed unfazed.

“It would be faster for you to see for yourself that I’m not using hacks.”

“…Alright.”

Han-ah nodded numbly, not sure what she was agreeing to. Her mind was too cluttered, so she just went along.

Ding!

An icon of two crossed swords appeared in her field of view, indicating a duel challenge from Rin. Han-ah accepted it.

…

She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the sensations of her body. They were familiar, yet somewhat different.

She had spent about five hours slaying monsters before eating some delivery food, getting used to her character’s skills.

They were almost the same as the ones in Dark Ark. They were all techniques of the Crescent Moon Flail style that she knew.

She watched Han-ah’s twin swords swing at her.

Swish!

Swish!

Swish!

She parried them effortlessly, as if swatting flies.

She saw Han-ah’s doubtful look, and she knew she still didn’t trust her.

Han-ah had started to doubt her even more after the Q&A session.

That’s why she had to show her true ‘skills’ now.

A crushing victory with brute force would only raise more suspicion of hacking.

She had to show her true mastery of strategy, the real weapon of cunning.

With that thought, she smirked and took a step forward, twisting the trajectory of her Crescent Moon Flail in the air.

“Huh?”

Han-ah was caught off guard by the sudden movement, and swung her twin swords at the empty air.

Rin stepped back and grabbed her right arm.

The golden strap attached to her right arm tightened, pulling the Crescent Moon Flail along with it. It wrapped around Han-ah’s right arm, binding it.

Han-ah tried to pull her arm back, but Rin yanked it and leaped backward.

“Ouch?”

Han-ah’s arm was jerked out of her control, and she fell to the ground. She blushed as she scrambled to get up.

Rin held the strap firmly, ready to use a technique.

It was familiar, but it felt different in this virtual reality.

—Ghost’s Dance.

She moved in sync with her intentions, dancing gracefully and deliberately through the space.

A crimson energy, unlike what she remembered, radiated from her feet as she performed the skill at a slow pace.

She didn’t rely on brute force, but on finesse.

The crimson energy flowed through the golden strap, making the Crescent Moon Flail blade quiver slightly.

Then, through the strap that bound her arm, Han-ah’s movements started to mimic the eerie motions of a puppet.

Rin watched closely, amazed by how this technique could be used in this way. Was this its true potential?

She didn’t finish off her opponent quickly, as the Ghost’s Dance was meant to do. She dragged it out, playing with her.

“Stop it!! Please, stop!! Ahh, ah? It’s so scary!!”

Rin kept dancing slowly and gracefully, ignoring Han-ah’s cries.

Finally, a scream pierced the air, and Rin stopped.

Had she been too focused? She realized how terrified Han-ah looked.

“…Han-ah?”

Han-ah sat there, half in a trance, and Rin felt a pang of guilt.

‘No, I didn’t mean to scare her like this.’

As she looked at Han-ah, and Han-ah began to stammer.

“W-what’s… w-what’s happening? I-I’m, I’m so scared… Rin!! I-I lost. P-please, stop it for real… I-I’m, I’m so scared!!”

Rin had wanted to prove that she wasn’t a hacker, but she ended up showing something even weirder.

She logged into Another World, which was already the top streamer broadcast. She opened the hologram window and tapped on the chat.

The reactions were pretty ugly.