The cold breeze of the metro platform nudged gently against his face, brushing his bangs as he stood still—relaxed for a second—shoulders slack and eyes quietly closed. The world around him moved, but Rony stayed perfectly still, like a pause in the city's rhythm. A moment later, the soft announcement echoed from above, nudging him out of his peaceful daze.
"Next train to Blue Horizon Line arriving in two minutes..."
He blinked his eyes open slowly, his hand adjusting the strap of the new bag resting on his back. The sound of the train grew louder, growing from a distant hum to a rolling thunder that filled the tunnel.
As the train doors slid open, Rony stepped in casually, securing a seat by the window in front of the AC vent. The moment the chilled air hit his skin, he let out a deep breath, one of those rare, content exhales that carried all the weight of a long day. He sat back, nestled comfortably into the seat, and gently hugged the bag in his lap like it was a pillow of dreams.
With a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, he thought, Maybe I should throw her a party too. Invite a few of her friends, bake a cake or order that chocolate monstrosity she likes so much... He chuckled quietly to himself. If she could smile more... if she could stay happy... I'd take that over anything else.
The rattling of the train wasn't loud enough to drown out his thoughts. The evening sun peeked through the narrow window, casting soft orange light on his cheek. He sat in peace, the faint scent of something sweet—maybe someone's candy nearby—lingering in the air.
He pulled out his phone again, this time more out of habit than curiosity. The romantic song had ended, and he didn't feel like listening anymore. Instead, he tapped on a familiar icon—Chronicles of the Future: Online—the game that had become a distant memory lately.
It loaded slowly, the familiar logo and eerie background music giving him a pang of nostalgia. He glanced at the main screen.
No updates.
No events.
No new quests.
Just... stillness.
A notification popped up at the bottom of the screen: "Game progress complete. Awaiting content update."
He sighed. Figures. The game had already caught up with the novel, and with the story on permanent hiatus, there was nothing left to move forward. Rony opened the community feed out of boredom, half-hoping something ridiculous had happened.
As expected, the comments section was chaos.
_"So the devs ghosted us too, huh?"
"Honestly, I knew this was coming when they stopped dropping hints."
"They better not be pulling a 'story reset' scam."
"This game peaked with that dragon boss. Nothing's topped that since."
Rony chuckled softly at one particular comment:
"I swear the devs are just a group of fantasy creatures writing code with ancient spells. No humans would go this long without patching a bug."
He laughed out loud. "Fantasy creatures, huh? Not far off."
As he scrolled, another name popped up in the comments. A familiar one.
"Silent_Lurker."
He smiled faintly. That was a name everyone in the community knew.
But what they didn't know—was that Silent_Lurker... was him.
"Yeah," he whispered, eyes on the screen. "That's me."
It felt strange, saying it out loud. In the online world, he was someone else entirely. A ghost with no face, a whisper that solved quests others couldn't even see, a legend that left clues no one could track.
He had a loyal following. Thousands of people subscribed to his tips, watched his voice-only videos, and waited for his rare but always shocking leaks. Some even believed he had inside access to the developers. Others thought he was part of the dev team himself.
But no one knew who he was.
He never showed his face.
Never gave away too much.
Only his voice was out there—modulated, carefully filtered. His uploads were neatly trimmed, and his clues always vague enough to keep them chasing shadows. It was a thrill, really.
"They fight about me," he mused, leaning against the cool glass window. "In forums, on live streams. Some think I'm the same guy as 'ChronoFreak_17'... but nah. That guy's got too much ego. Fun to watch, though."
He let out a low chuckle, remembering the endless debates on the community boards. The theories. The wild guesses.
One theory claimed Silent_Lurker was actually a bot created by the devs.
Another insisted he was a game tester gone rogue.
And then there was the wildest one: that he was the author of the novel himself.
That one always made him laugh.
He looked at his reflection in the train window—dark eyes, tired but sharp, glasses slightly fogged from the cold air, lips curved into a faint smile.
"If only they knew it was just me," he said softly. "A part-timer with a dying phone battery and a sister waiting at home."
He opened his profile in the game. Nothing new. No patch notes. No sneak peeks. Just... silence.
And that silence made him feel heavier.
Because this game wasn't just a hobby. It was the last thread of connection to a world he once escaped into—a world he cared about, understood, felt part of.
No credits ever revealed a developer name.
No studio logo.
No interviews. No promotions. Just... one day, the game was there.
And it worked.
Perfectly.
No bugs. No pay-to-win nonsense. Just pure, immersive storytelling—like magic stitched into code.
He remembered the first time he played it. How the air felt different that day, how the characters moved like real people. Every quest, every item—crafted with insane detail. It was more than a game. It was alive.
And now... it was frozen. Waiting.
Like a heart that stopped beating.
He set his phone down in his lap, fingers trailing lightly over the bag again.
"I wonder…" he whispered, "what would I do... if I really was in that world?"
He thought of the author's strange message earlier. That surreal, bizarre question: "If given the chance to live in that world, what would you do?"
He hadn't taken it seriously. Probably still wouldn't.
But still… it echoed in his mind like a ghostly refrain.
His stop was still a while away.
And so he sat there in silence, the quiet train humming around him, eyes half-lidded, head tilted back. His thoughts swirled with digital memories and unknown futures.
Unaware that this moment... this night... would be the last time he saw the city lights through that train window.