Standing up from my chair, I walked to my computer desk and picked up the VR:Scanner. As I did so, it struck me as odd that this device had such an old-fashioned look—a full-head helmet. The latest VRMMORPG products typically required an attachment at the back of the neck, resembling a choker design.

Not to mention, it was heavier than it looked!

This device's weight alone indicated that it should only be used while lying down, not sitting or in any other position. But I knew that, even though it was heavy, its weight-balancing technology would reduce pressure points when activated, minimizing injuries.

Moreover, the device's system included a neural interface that removed the need for physical movement; when logged into the game, the physical body would be fully relaxed, perhaps similar to sleep paralysis, where the mind was active and fully immersed, but the body remained still.

This meant the VR:Scanner offered unparalleled immersion, explaining why it could be heavy... and costly!

The price, the weight, the design—deep sensory feedback wasn't practical for general amusement. Perhaps this was why collectors, the wealthy, researchers, and die-hard players were drawn to it. On the other hand, the average individual (like me) could only dream about purchasing one.

'But I didn't know if this helmet was the same as the ones sold to the public.'

After placing the helmet on the bed while I sat on the edge, I opened the small section at the back of the VR:Scanner to pull out the ReLink cable and connected it to my Helios. Once plugged in, the holographic interface automatically sprang to life from my metal bracelet.

"Chen Luo, the VR:Scanner is now connected to your room system and Helios. Please confirm if you need optimization."

"As usual," I replied.

"Understood. Initiating your preferred settings in your usual mode."

While waiting, I lay down on the bed. This stage was tedious when installing a game but vital. Since Helios was already a part of each individual's identity, all activities had to be connected to it for safety, and the regulations themselves required it.

Although the VR:Scanner device provided its own security system, connecting Helios was crucial. It could handle various systems in my life, making the overall experience smoother and more integrated—including this game. It adjusted the room's environment for an optimal gaming experience and ensured I stayed safe while connected.

My favorite part was that it could use my historical data and preferences to customize the game system. So, there were no more fiddly settings when logging into the game. Even "login" itself became unnecessary; I could just enter the game.

And thankfully, this process took just a little bit of time.

"Chen Luo, your room has been prepared with the usual environment parameters—lighting and temperature adjusted for optimal comfort, and all safety measures are in place. If you require any changes or additional assistance, please let me know. Enjoy your game!"

Good. I crawled into bed and found a comfortable position to rest. Then, I carefully positioned the helmet over my head. It automatically adjusted with a soft lining that fit the curves of my head.

When the visor automatically descended, my bedroom view faded away. Everything became dark. Eventually, this darkness shattered as silver cubes floated freely before me. They gathered and were absorbed into one, revealing a logo titled "NeuroVerse System."

Visual Connection... synchronized

Then, the silence—like the sensation in my eardrums after a plane takes off—melted away. I heard a little song tune emerge, whispering around me.

Audio Connection... synchronized

This time, the feeling of my back lying down and touching the bed disappeared; I felt myself being lifted up before being released freely into an open space without gravity.

Sense Connection... synchronized

Clear! All systems synchronized

Ding!

Entering the server, please wait...

I was sent flying through rings of light like a time machine in a sci-fi movie and arrived at a vast black place filled with twinkling white glitter that seemed far away. Or rather, I arrived in the vast expanse of space.

Honestly, I was... impressed!

Other games never showed anything like this (or I needed to play more to learn diverse new game sequences). In front of me, cosmic dust appeared. Eventually, the dust began to arrange and spin flat like a disk, which in some corners of the disk formed clumps that kept colliding with each other and sticking together, becoming massive balls.

It was the formation of the planetary system.

In particular, of a planet.

Because then, my gaze was drawn to a white-blue globe with a thin ring. My eyes widened as the realization dawned on me. That globe was, without a doubt, my home planet! I knew it, as I had seen augmented projections—Huh?

Wait, wait, wait...

'Where do I know this from?'

Lessons on cosmic formations were part of the standard curriculum. However, firsthand augmented projections were reserved for society's elite. I felt out of place with this knowing.

The thought made me consider... could there be experiences I might never fully process?

Hmm. So far, what I remembered and applied in the real world has not clashed. Everything has worked out fine; I even benefited from this ability to remember things clearly. That was why discovering I had "forgotten" about the VR:Scanner was such a shock. This means the "I could forget" anomaly was ONLY related to the VR:Scanner. It further explained that my thoughts were suppressed by elements within this game.

In short, I knew I had played World: The Origin, but one incident had fragmented my memory.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

My primary objective then... was to investigate the event or mechanism in World: The Origin I hypothesized might be linked to these issues or, at least, find more concrete evidence of this memory loss (because all was still my speculation). Returning to the game looked like the best way to figure out why I had forgotten about it in the first place.

Having this clear roadmap made me excited to proceed! I took steps—

Thud!

—but hit an invisible wall instead.

Uh, okay, too excited wouldn't be good either. I rubbed my forehead and took a step back.

'My recent days of normalcy made me lower my guard, huh...'

Now... instead of dwelling on that idiocy, I read the red screen that appeared just as I hit the invisible barrier ahead. My hand began to tap once, twice on the text with the big exclamation mark that read [Notice!]. It brought up another screen filled with dense text from the top, on and on, down as I scrolled the screen to the end.

'Ah, yes, the most thrilling ToS reading.'

What kind of crazy person would waste their time reading dense, clunky text when they were looking forward to play? But since I was in abnormal circumstances, I had to be that crazy person and start reading these "Terms of Service."

In one skim, I realized nothing unusual in their section; everything appeared standard—the usual legalese about user conduct, data usage, and liability disclaimers. But when I wanted to review it further, I could easily read it later.

'Reread them in my head, what I meant.'

Because after I pressed the [Accept] button, the "Terms of Service" couldn't be read anymore unless I visited their official website.

This felt slightly ironic. Only minutes ago, I had questioned my memory's reliability; now, I was trusting it again. Yet, the doubt wasn't entirely misplaced—my skepticism was limited to World: The Origin and the VR:Scanner. That was where the anomaly lay. My ability to recall and revisit everything else in my mind... I still trusted.

When the red screen disappeared, I saw a bunch of choices for changing how my avatar looks. There were so many options and styles. It felt like I was holding a bunch of paintbrushes. However, instead of using paint, I picked different looks and features for my character in the game.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I stood there.

And said, "Skip."

I could never relate to players who would spend hours decorating their avatars. That was just cosmetic; it would have little impact on the gameplay. Why should I waste my time on it? After all, using my usual appearance was a strategic ambiguity in itself.

You can't change your appearance once you have decided on it

Continue?

A full-body mirror appeared before me, replacing the invisible wall. This was what I meant by strategic ambiguity.

My hair was short and silvery white, with "a bit" subtle streaks of red blending into the strands. Even more striking were my eyes—this bright red color. I already looked like a character out of a game. But actually, it wasn't that remarkable. Long ago, people with silver hair were considered defective; they held the lowest social strata until their existence became rare, almost extinct nowadays.

I wasn't (and had never been) proud of my looks.

In the gaming world, however, it would appear normal; no one would realize this was my natural appearance. I have embraced this tendency ever since I started playing VRMMORPGs.

So, I said, "Yes."

The full-body mirror glowed and shattered into light particles, accompanied by a strong wind. I turned away from the source, hand outstretched to block the gust from my face. It was so strong that it pushed me backward, little by little.

As my foot stepped back, instead of finding the invisible floor again, it fell downward as if the place where I stood had never existed.

And my whole body went into a complete free fall through space.

You will be teleported to the story mode location

Truly. The adrenaline rush from this unexpected high-speed fall sent tingles all over my body! My heart thumped, and my stomach muscles tightened. But a blinding light bombarded me before I could react to this overwhelming sensation. The more I fell, the more dazzling it became, forcing me to close my eyes as tightly as possible and stretch my arms forward to block out the glare.

Thankfully, as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation of falling ceased.

My body felt like it was touching something as if I was lying on a mattress. But with air on my left and right, without even looking, I knew I was in a narrow place. My eyes, still adapting to the lingering excessive brightness, opened slightly. Closed again. Opened. Blinked. I could faintly see that I was inside a... pod?

Once my eyes had adjusted and could open wide, the pod swung open; digital pieces came together to create a message before me.

Welcome to World: The Origin, Rhuzerv!

'Rhuzerv... who?'

Before I could analyze what had happened—whether it was that name or my mind shorting out from overstimulation—a hand reached out to me. Instead of taking it, knowing it was intended to help me up, I instinctively glanced at who was now in front of me. A woman with a cold expression. Her long, midnight-colored hair fell over her shoulders, while her eyes were a soft, moon-like blue.

"Welcome to Vaughan Academy, new student. My name is Noir. I am the leader of the Discipline Department. I will be assisting you."

'A leader?'

That caught my attention, prompting me to see her more clearly.

She wore a uniform that was a mix of burgundy and black, highlighted by gold buttons down the front. Black belts around her waist added formality. Her skirt, edged with black frills, reached mid-thigh. To top it all off, she wore a long black cape, its collar lined with white fur.

I was paying attention to these details because the game's Wikia—created by players—didn't fully describe each department leader. Even their illustrations were missing.

Obviously, I became curious.

With her hand still extended to help me out of the pod, I preferred not to initiate physical contact if it wasn't necessary. With a palm gesture, I shook my head and politely declined her offer. I swung my legs over the pod's edge and landed on the ground. Noir withdrew her hand, an unreadable expression on her face. Typical of an NPC, of course.

"Very well, student...?" She tilted her head. Her tone started flat but rose slightly, indicating she was asking for a name.

My avatar's name, to be exact.

It was abrupt, but her expectation of an immediate answer—without a formal introduction—suggested that the IGN (In-Game Name) could be changed freely and wasn't fixed.

So I just gave my usual one.

"Luo."