Remembering you past life isn't necessarily a good thing.

"Hey, after class, want to go to the capsule cafe?"

"Again today? Didn't we go yesterday?"

"Yeah. So, what do you think?"

"Of course, we should go. You don’t need to ask."

Seojun, an extremely ordinary college student except for the fact that he remembered his past life, thought as he listened to the whispered conversations of the students in the back.

"That's it for today's class......."

The lecture was over. As usual, the professor's last words were drowned out by the sound of students packing their bags and getting up. Seojun also leisurely packed his things and got up from his chair.

"Hey, hey. If we're late, there might not be any capsule seats available."

"What are we, middle school students? If we're late after school, there won't be any seats left."

"Whether we go early or late, there are never enough seats there. So, let’s just take our time."

It was indeed popular. Seojun nodded, thinking back to seven years ago. Even back then, securing a spot in a capsule cafe was like hell.

‘But the popularity of capsules is growing every year, so...’

Seojun turned his attention away and headed home. When he opened the door and walked in, his housemate and de facto only friend was sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Oh, you’re back. This is the All-Star Game, want to watch it together?"

The person who greeted Seojun was Kim Taewoo. He was Seojun's high school classmate, and a veteran streamer with an average of over 10,000 viewers and had maintained it for seven years.

Since high school, Taewoo had been sleeping at school and streaming from home. As a result, he was kicked out of his house during exam periods, and would the live in Seojun's room. After graduating and becoming independent, they started to live in a single house.

"Forget it. You can watch it yourself. It's not fun," Seojun said bluntly.

"Not fun? You don't find it fun?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Taewoo sighed, and said, "Yeah, it's obvious. But if you try it, you might actually feel like you're really there in virtual reality. I think the same way. But hey, Seojun."

"Yeah?"

"You haven't tried a capsule, right? This guy. Even if I asked you to try it together at least once or even just come in and see, you kept avoiding it!"

Virtual reality capsule was a device that could immerse people in a different world. Even if it had only been a couple of years, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the world had been swept up in the capsule fever. After all, capsules recreate popular real-life places, fulfilling the travel desires of busy individuals.

Virtual reality was also being integrated into numerous industries such as shopping, education, healthcare, and automotive, transforming the world. However, the most popular field was undoubtedly entertainment, specifically games.

Games with overwhelming realism and dazzling designs were pouring out one after another, and the popularity of capsule games was increasing day by day. The All-Star match that Taewoo was currently watching was an event in the popular virtual reality game called ‘The League’.

"I’ve played capsule games before."

"Then why aren't you playing now?"

"Virtual reality is dangerous, you know."

"What's so dangerous about it? There has only been one person who fainted in a capsule so far. Just one person in the whole world!"

Hearing that, Seojun responded with an indifferent expression, and changed the subject, "Is that so? Anyway, let's go eat dinner later. Mom made braised short ribs."

"I can't resist braised short ribs."

Taewoo burst into laughter.

Seojun entered the room, shaking his head, and mumbled to himself,

"What a simple man."

* * *

***read at novelworldtranslations.blogspot.com***

* * *

After tidying up his belongings and changing his clothes, Seojun sat in front of his desk, turned on the computer, and clicked on the search bar. He wondered if what Taewoo had said was true.

Capsule, virtual reality, accident.

Seojun combined the three words and searched the internet. It was indeed real. He found an article about a 16-year-old student who collapsed while playing in a capsule seven years ago. But there was no need to click and verify the contents.

‘No one would know about it better than me.’

Sighing, Seojun leaned back in his chair.

‘Why did I play the game? Well, that’s because…’

Remembering past lives wasn't necessarily a good thing. Had people ever wondered if they were a peasant who was born in the Taiping Province and lived to harvest rice?

But Seojun, he was in the center of it all, in a place that could be called the center of the world, inhabited by barbarians who, like men and women in a ballroom, would perform fiery sword dances at a single glance.

‘It is certainly savage.’

In Seojun’s previous life, death was closer than a shadow. Loss was more common than a pebble rolling down the street. With these memories, Seojun could not help but doubt the authenticity of it, as young as he was. And there was no proof that he wasn't crazy. Then, when Seojun turned 16, by chance, he took his first step into virtual reality and grasped a sword within it. He still vividly remember that moment. The awkward, yet all-too-familiar feel of the sword in his hand. The motion. The sword. He swung the sword in a motion that played over and over in his mind. He was convinced that the memory was not fiction.

[TL’s note: I think the essence of this part is that the author is trying to tell us that Seojun was some kind of master swordsman and that he was able to use the skills he had gained in his past life inside the virtual reality.]

‘So, is that why?’

Seojun, who used to enjoy virtual reality, collapsed, bleeding from his nose and mouth, and lost consciousness without even lasting a year playing the game. Inside the capsule, to be precise. The cause was low immersion rate.

Immersion rate referred to how well one perceives the virtual reality world as real. The higher the immersion rate, the better one adapts to virtual reality and experiences less fatigue.

"Unfortunately, Seojun's immersion rate is too low, so the connection is unstable."

"It was what Seojun heard after undergoing a detailed examination at the research lab."

"How low is it?"

"It's 10. It seems to be the lowest in the world. You must have felt dizzy a lot during that time, so how did you play games in this condition...?"

Immersion rate 10. Considering that the average was 60 and the lowest value, excluding his, was 42, Seojun's immersion rate was critically low.

"If you go into virtual reality more in the future, it might be dangerous for your brain... Just like the circuitry of an electronic device can be damaged if the voltage between the charger and the device is incorrect, Seojun's brain is not compatible with virtual reality, so it can be seriously damaged..."

‘Could it be because I remember my past life? Or is it simply my unique constitution?’

Thus, Seojun became the only person in the world to collapse inside a capsule.

"We apologize. For the sake of Seojun's safety, we have no choice but to discontinue our virtual reality services. We are truly sorry."

She explained that this was the first time they had encountered a case like this and had to cease the service. It was the only course of action, and Seojun calmly accepted it.

‘It's not like I'm going to die because I can't play. Nevertheless, this feeling I have now is. Is it regret? Or maybe.’

"...I don't know," Seojun muttered. The moment he turned off the computer his cell phone rang, and his eyes widened as he checked it.

"Huh?"

[Hello, Seojun. I'm Oh Jihye, the head of Surface Korea Research and Development Center. If you have time, would you like to visit our research institute for the first time in a long while?]

***

The next day.

-Ding!

Seojun opened his eyes at the same time the capsule lid opened.

"How was it to loosen up in virtual reality after a long time?"

A woman who appeared to be in her late 30s approached Seojun, who was slightly dizzy due to just coming out of virtual reality.

Oh Jihye. She was a research center director who had examined Seojun in the past.

Seojun hesitated for a moment before sharing his impressions with her.

"It's fine. It seems less dizzying than it used to be."

The reason she invited Seojun to the research center was simple. It was because they had found a way for him to dive into virtual reality without damaging his brain. After seven years!

"Hehe. That's good, isn't it? The new model capsule that you just entered is designed to minimize discomfort for people with low assimilation rates and maximize performance for those with high motion assimilation rates!"

"I see."

"Would you come this way, please?"

She led Seojun towards her desk. And she seated him in the adjacent seat.

"If you look at this graph here..."

Even though Seojun couldn't understand the graph, her explanation could be summarized that as long as he did not exceed the number of hours of use per day, it's okay to use the capsule. However, there was one more condition apart from the limited time and that was…

"Unfortunately, only the new model capsules that are coming out this time are safe. They are products that have been exclusively designed to maximize performance without considering the price."

So, it meant that Seojun could only go to virtual reality if he had such a specially made product. He then asked about the price with a bitter smile.

"How much is it?"

The fact that they didn't even consider the price bothered Seojun. And indeed, the price of the capsule that came out of her mouth was beyond his imagination.

"100 million won! It's no small sum indeed," Seojun's voice turned bitter as he spoke. The price was too high. Low-end models could be bought for a few million won, and high-end models didn’t cost more than 30 million won.

"But 100 million.”

It might be worth it for professional use, like professional athletes who win or lose in 0.1 seconds.

"What will you do?"

‘That's a lot to pay for a hobby’, Seojun thought. Just as he was about to say that he didn't think he buy it, Oh Jihye spoke up, "A hundred million won is certainly a burdensome amount. But do you happen to know about 'The League' tournament held in Travel?"

The League of Streaming. RIOS for short. Streamers compete in a game called The League. It’s the biggest tournament outside of the de facto professional leagues. Seojun nodded, as he was vaguely familiar with it thanks to Taewoo.

"Plus, it's sponsored by Surface this time around, so they've added this new capsule to the winner’s prize."

"Ah..."

"If you decide to participate, we will lend the capsule for free until the end of the tournament."

At that, SeoJoon's head began to spin. Was this a case of give and take?

Streamer. It was a job he'd never considered, even though he knew someone close to him who was doing it right now.

"But don't even think about becoming a pro gamer. Pros eat and live in capsules, and they undergo regular examinations every month. If you were to pursue such a profession, your brain wouldn't be able to handle it, even if a capsule with better performance were to come out."

"Is that so?"

Seojun paused for a moment, pondered, and then smiled as he chose the safest answer, "Thank you. I will think about it."

***

"Director, why did you say that?" asked a researcher who had been eavesdropping on Seojun and Ojihye's conversation.

"What?" Ji-hye pretended not to know.

"Free rental for a streamer tournament? Why did you go to such lengths? What did that student say? I understand it's a unique case, but there's no need to go that far."

"Hey, listen. Our service at Surface doesn't miss a single customer."

"What if a professional athlete who comes for a check-up acts a little annoying? What's if he’ll threaten to suspend using our service citing danger as an excuse?"

The researcher expressed disbelief and Oh Jihye brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, it's because I hate wasting a talented individual, that's all."

"Yeah? But do you think she's going to be able to win, or even participate in League of Legends?"

The researcher's words reminded Oh Jihye of the first time she saw Seojun seven years ago. She remembered how surprised she was to learn that the assimilation rate of such an amazing user was only 10 at best. And even now.

"'His skills haven't rusted. On the contrary...'"

Oh Jihye’s eyes shifted to the side. There, Seojun's data from today's measurements appeared. Not only Seojun's real life physical responses but also the results of simple, yet very clear tests conducted in virtual reality.

"Honestly, participation might be difficult.”

As a streamer, a certain amount of recognition and reputation was neccessary. But if he’s able to enter…

"Winning, though, I think it's possible."

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