“It’s amazing what she has done!” Luda exclaims. “I knew she was good, but not that good.”

“All the security she must’ve bypassed…wow,” Jinsook murmurs in awe before promptly stuffing chopsticks-full of ramen into .

At one side of the room, a raven-haired girl narrows her eyes at Luda. “Are you sure she doesn’t actually have a hard copy of the game? She could’ve just bought a pirated copy and messed with it.”

Luda shakes her head vehemently. “Juyeon wouldn’t spend a dime on anything but food and clothes. There weren’t even any proper gameplay accessories. She had me wearing a knockoff VR helmet you could salvage at an electronics dump, for heaven’s sake!”

“But…how'd she do it? Is it even possible?”

“Mmmph fffru a ackdoh,” Jinsook garbles around a mouth full of noodles, only to be met by puzzled stares. Wiping her lips, she swallows and repeats, “Maybe through a backdoor. You can gain access through a system flaw or maybe even through an entrance installed remotely. Basically, she snuck in. That’s why it’s called a backdoor.”  

“That’s impressive,” the raven-haired girl murmurs before shaking her head. “Nevertheless, she has to remain uninvolved. You know why.”

Luda sighs and shrugs in defeat.

A screechy ack! is heard from the computer; Jinsook had spilled her ramen all over the keyboard again.

01100101

Juyeon munches on the crystallized potato chips like there's no tomorrow. Across the table, Cheng Xiao frowns.

“You’re a great cook but all you eat is junk food.”

“Um, excuse you,” Juyeon, with a full mouth, says in between the crunch of the chips, “but Nongshim’s crystal chips are the greatest thing to grace Korea ever since the early twenty-first century’s honey butter craze.”

Cheng Xiao rolls her eyes.

Juyeon digs through the bag and pulls out a translucent chip, glassy and vitreous as if it was made of crystallized sugar. Holding it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, she brings it just in front of Cheng Xiao’s lips.

“And it is not junk. It’s fat-free, low-calorie, and non-greasy,” Juyeon says matter-of-factly.

Cheng Xiao purses her lips at her before promptly popping the chip into with a satisfied hum, to which Juyeon giggles.

“You know it’s not even real potatoes, right? It’s like potato-flavoured gelatin.”

Juyeon squints at the bag, catching the words ‘BBQ flavour’ at the bottom. “Barbeque-flavoured-potato-flavoured gelatin. Anyways, I know you’ve probably got all sorts of industry secrets whizzing around in your head, but please let me eat my pretentious fake glass chips in peace!”

Cheng Xiao chuckles as she reaches into the chip bag for more pretentious (but delicious!) fake glass chips.

“Don’t you have work today?”

Juyeon shakes her head. “My boss is having a terrible week so he sent everyone home early.”

“Please, everyone has bad weeks.”

“His wife left him, his residence bot malfunctioned and locked him out a few days ago, he spilled coffee on himself this morning, his dog died yesterday and his cousin crashed his Hover.”

Cheng Xiao blinks. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, yikes indeed,” Juyeon says with a sigh. “Mr. Jeong was a jolly one… It’s very sad to lose him.”

“Aw, his cousin died in the crash?”

“No, Mr. Jeong is his dog.”

When Xiao rolls her eyes (for the umpteenth time today), Juyeon continues, “his cousin, on the other hand, was a jerk. He was a thief. And he ‘borrowed’ the Hover,” she pauses to air quote. “See, this is why Project Hyperreal exists.”

“Yeah, it exists and yet he was still a thief in real life,” Cheng Xiao grumbles.

Juyeon shakes her head. “He’s a rare case, you know that. The game is a factor to Seoul’s decreasing crime rate, Xiao. And it’s not just a ‘correlation does not imply causation’ coincidence, there have been studies that prove it’s an effective deterrent to crime – in real life, anyways.”

“Those studies were done by the same company that developed the game.”

“The same company that your parents work for,” Juyeon says before narrowing her eyes. “Gee, for a daughter of the game developers, you surely have a lot of suspicion.”

“I’m not suspicious!” Cheng Xiao replies defensively, “I’m just saying people should be more open-minded. Project Hyperreal is like brainwash sometimes. Some people are obsessed, Juyeon, it’s like a recreational drug! Look at Luda, she’s going to fail the legal service exam for like the third time.”

“Oh please, a video game is not comparable to heroin. And you know Luda fails those on purpose, she has no interest in being a lawyer like her parents want,” Juyeon says. She lets out an amused chuckle as she finishes the rest of the chip bag.

When she catches Xiao frowning at her, Juyeon reaches over the table to pat her friend on the shoulder. “Relax, at least neither of us are addicted to it. And you gotta admit, the game has its positives.”

As Seong Industries advertises, the game provides an outlet for one's wildest dreams – and darkest sides likewise. A virtual reality where one can live a separate life.

Tapping directly into the brain and nerves of the player with advanced technology and “drawing directly from real life aspects for authenticity”, it is the most realistic social simulation game in the world. Though only available for gameplay nationally for now, the company is aiming for global expansion in the next few years considering its popularity in Korea.

Meanwhile, with the country shooting to the top of international demographics rankings, boosts in standard of living and quality of life, and noticeable climbs in the Human Development Index and World Happiness Report in just a few years, Korea’s continuous boom certainly puts it up to (or above) par with other highly developed countries.

Koreans would call it a 2^nd Miracle on the Han River on particularly confident days (and there seem to be many of those as of late).

Project Hyperreal is considered a national treasure of sorts; not only is it a shining example of Korea's rapid technological development, but it is also something that the government believes is one of many beneficial components to the stability of society.

Because of course, no human is perfect no matter the economic substructure beneath it. And in order to maintain the utopia, the inseparable dystopian counterpart must take place elsewhere – an outlet for where the angst, impulses, and lows of life can take place appropriately rather than in reality. And that’s where Project Hyperreal comes in.

Ironically, a video game that was originally created to fulfill one’s impossible dreams also became a garbage dump of sorts for everything you can’t do in the real world.

People love it; they can do whatever they want with no real world consequences. And the fact that it feels so real is the biggest and best bonus of them all.

“There’s still ­in-world consequences. Hyperreal’s got its own laws and rules.”

“Duh, of course. All games have rules. But all you have to do is log out. Reset. Start again and ta-da, clean slate. It’s like nothing ever happened,” Juyeon shrugs.

“Whatever, you do you. I’m perfectly satisfied with the real world without any of that virtual nonsense,” Cheng Xiao says as she relaxes on her chair and closes her eyes.

Juyeon smiles. “Suit yourself, Xiao. I’m gonna go play for the first time.”

At that, Xiao shoots one eye open. “You haven’t tried it yet?” Juyeon shakes her head. “But Luda…?”

“Luda was just my guinea pig. I wasn’t sure if my backdoor worked so I needed her to try it out first,” Juyeon pauses to give Cheng Xiao a mischievously smug smile. “And it worked. She says it was no different than when she played it at home.”

Juyeon claps and lets out an obnoxious holler. “Score! Son Juyeon has successfully hacked into Project Hyperreal!”

Patting herself on the back, Juyeon nods her head at her own impressive achievement. Smirking at Cheng Xiao, she brags, “Admirable, huh? Aren’t I amazing? I’m kind of amazing.”

Juyeon waves her hands for added dramatic effects and ducks as if she was dodging punches from an imaginary opponent. “Xiao, this is like some big-time corporation stuff and I just snuck in like a little ninja, you know.”

Xiao scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. “Juyeon, this is like some big-time illegal activity!”

“Yes, Juyeon, this goes against Article 273 in the penal code, second chapter of specific provisions–“

“Not now, Mister!” Juyeon interrupts her residence bot’s unwanted intervention into her and Xiao’s conversation with a palm held up. “What did I say about listening in on my conversations?”

“I am an AI installed throughout your entire home, Juyeon, I am afraid I cannot choose what and what not to hear and process,” the soothing human-like voice answers from above (or rather, everywhere).

The tips of Juyeon's lips turn upwards into that familiar crafty smirk, one eyebrow raising playfully. “I can play around with your software and make it so..."

“You cannot do that,” the AI promptly answers. After a short pause, “…Please do not do that. Please.”

Juyeon breaks into a chuckle as she clutches her stomach. “I'm just kidding! I’d never mess with you, Mister, you know that!”

“Thank you, Juyeon.”

“Your own residence bot is scared of your capabilities,” Xiao grumbles.

Juyeon winks at her. “What can I say? I’m pretty nifty.”

“Nifty, but careless apparently! This seems way beyond the hacking you usually do. Do you know what will happen if you get caught?”

“If I get caught – which I won’t, by the way. Do you doubt my abilities?” Juyeon asks with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

“No! Of course not, you’re one of the smartest people I know–“

“–Yes! Thanks–“

“–but you’re dealing with Seong Industries here. You really think you can outsmart a whole company’s security?”

Juyeon sighs and gives her one of those looks – a look that can ease even the most restless, a kind that a doctor would give to a child at their first check-up. Juyeon's good at a lot of things. 

“If anything, I’m a tiny blip in a huge system of networks, Xiao. It’s not like I’m leaking company secrets. I promise you it’s super harmless, really! I just wanna give the game a shot. I’ll be okay, don't worry.”

Xiao sinks into her seat and heaves out a huge sigh. If it was any other friend, she’d be far more concerned considering the tip-toeing-into-illegal-territory-and-general-uncharted-waters that is involved.

But this is Juyeon; one of her, even if others may be skeptical, smartest friends in several ways.

Juyeon is sharp-witted and astute; she's able to assess situations and respond quickly to her own advantage. While not always the wisest, Juyeon is crafty enough to get by on her own even with the absence of parental figures (a topic she can slyly steer away from in any conversation).

On top of that, she has a remarkable flair for computers – a knack that she herself calls a 'gift' of sorts. Somehow, she believes she’s been blessed with this knowledge for a greater reason (and sometimes, Xiao thinks she’s a bit of a dreamer).

However, rather than contributing her knowledge to furthering the tech industry (which is what Xiao would prefer, if only Juyeon didn’t keep ignoring her Seong Industries internship recommendations), Juyeon prefers the “more fun route”. Or in other words, hacking.

Not for malicious gain, no, Juyeon has no interest in stealing credit card information. It’s more like harmless jailbreaking into devices so they’re more convenient to her (once, she manipulated the range of her wireless charging station to reach the bathroom so she could charge her phone while she used it in the shower).

‘A hobby for the greater good!’ she would say, but what good could hacking possible bring? Especially when it’s mostly done to fulfill Juyeon’s own individual desires anyways.

Yes, perhaps she is a bit of a dreamer after – and she's got one huge ego to boot (at least she’s got the skills to back it up.)

But if Juyeon says she’s okay, then she will be. Xiao trusts her with her life; they’ve been the best of friends since forever. She knows one of Juyeon’s strongest suits is her passion. She’s diligent and can do anything as long as she puts her mind to it.

So all Xiao can do is trust her words and watch from afar, offering support but only just in case she falls (because when does stubborn Son Juyeon ever ask for help anyways).

Besides, if she were to not relax for every time Juyeon tells her to “relax!”, Cheng Xiao would have no hair left on her head.

“No funny business,” Cheng Xiao warns as parting words when Juyeon gets up from her seat.

Juyeon winks at her. “None that you’ll hear of.”

She throws her empty bag of chips into the trash and starts heading to her room of computers when she pauses in her steps.

“Oh yeah, I trust neither of you will do this, but just in case,” she starts, “uh, not a word to the government or something,” she says to the air (intended for her residence bot, as if Mr. Badboy would even consider stabbing her in the back) (highly unlikely, by the way) before turning to Xiao, “and not a word to your parents. Our secret?”

“As you wish,” Mister replies promptly.

“As you wish,” Xiao mockingly mimics.

Juyeon grins. “Thank you, my lovely friends. See you in a bit!”

She claps twice and at once, a cupboard in the kitchen flies open on command, making Cheng Xiao jump in her seat. She stares wide-eyed at the neat racks of crystallized potato chips. Only Juyeon would program pantry cupboards to open on cue (and have a cupboard full of glass potato chips).

“Treat yourself to some crystal chips, I know they’re irresistible. Embrace the latest craze of the 2060s,” Juyeon tells her with a chuckle before retreating down the hallway to her computer room.

Cheng Xiao rolls her eyes but as soon as Juyeon is out of view, she jumps out of her seat and rushes towards the cupboard.

“Your affinity for Nongshim’s crystal chips is rather conspicuous, Ms. Cheng Xiao. It is a bit hypocritical.”

“Shut it, Mr. Badboy,” Xiao murmurs as she eagerly opens a bag of chips.

01100101

Juyeon feels like she just dived into a frigid lake during the worst of the dog days of summer.

It’s a sensation best described as refreshing – a sort of stimulating revitalization, the exhilaration traveling through the body as the sensors of the technology spark the neurons, akin to igniting a flame that travels through the sensory nervous system to the brain.

Juyeon can understand why some people may find this addicting.

It’s a pleasant feeling to say the least and a bit of a shock at worst, but in general, it can be accurately described as ‘shockingly pleasant!’ (as the Project Hyperreal advertisement says verbatim at Yongsan Station).

But oh, logging in and being transported into Project Hyperreal is just the beginning of the experience.

One second, she’s staring into the darkness inside the VR helmet, waiting.

In a quick flash of white light, Juyeon suddenly finds herself surrounded by trees the next second.

Belatedly realizing that she’s at Yeouido Park, the chirping of birds gets her to her senses as she finally takes a look around.

Enlarging from the middle, eye-catching words abruptly appear in the center of her vision: ‘Welcome To Project Hyperreal!’

When she turns, the words remain where they are, as if they floated in midair, but when she reaches up to try and touch it, Juyeon feels nothing.

Another string of words materializes in front of her eyes – ‘Replicated Real World Laws Apply In Gameplay. Have Fun And May Your Dreams Come True’ – before promptly vanishing, except for ‘Project Hyperreal’ which shrinks to the corner of her vision.

Like a constant reminder that Juyeon is in a game, the logo perpetually stays in her peripheral vision wherever she turns. It’s about the only thing that deviates the video game from perfect realism, but it’s insignificant enough that no one minds.

Juyeon doesn’t know what to do except to stand still. She takes in her surroundings – fully and literally.

She inhales one deep breath and gets a whiff of the earthy scent from the recently rained-on soil beneath the soles of her shoes. Turning her head to the sky, she squints at the sun’s glaring rays. She feels the heat against her cheeks and the breeze through her hair. The bark is rough and damp to her touch when she reaches towards the nearest tree. When she looks up, the vivid green leaves contrast the cloudless azure sky.

Everything feels so real, Juyeon almost couldn’t comprehend it. The hearsay has always been that the world Seong Industries has constructed is unbelievable, but now she can understand why it’d be difficult to put this experience into words. The game really does deserve its merit after all.

“Wow, I’m…thoroughly impressed. They’ve really outdone themselves, huh…” she mutters to herself, nodding her head in approval before her smug countenance returns. “And I am one hell of a hacker.”

She smirks and then realizes that she’s boasting to no one but the trees. Coughing in embarrassment, she steps out into the nearest paved path.

Juyeon has been to Yeouido Park plenty of times before (it’s her go-to date spot after all), but never has such a familiar place look so unfamiliar.

For one, the sleek white seats that line the footpaths have been replaced by wooden park benches that Juyeon has only seen in history books. There are no fountains spewing sparkling water in the middle of the ponds, just water lilies floating in isolation. In the distance, the glass windows of tall buildings glint under the sun, unobstructed by the usual large electronic billboards that Juyeon is used to seeing in the real world.

The video game is set in Seoul, but clearly it’s a different Seoul than the one she knows and comes from. Instead, it seems the programmers and game designers have constructed a Seoul from the past (her instincts tell her early 21^st century).

Juyeon feels like she has time-travelled.

(But she reminds herself that everything she sees is just a line in the code and every reaction to her is just a command and a programmed response. Nothing more, nothing less and that’s putting it in simple terms.)

Suddenly, a chime of a bell from behind startles her. She immediately swerves and then jumps back in surprise when a wobbly bicycle almost crashes into her.

“Oh my gosh!” the red-haired cyclist says as she grounds her feet to come to a full stop.

Juyeon stares at the bicycle in interest. Bright purple in colour, it has wheels attached to a frame and a pedal with a chain; compared to the hover bikes in the real world, she found this one particularly old-fashioned.

“I’m so sorry!”

The other girl’s voice steals Juyeon’s attention away from the bicycle as she finally turns to look at the cyclist who almost crashed into her. She finds the pretty redhead frowning at her with worry.

Juyeon breaks into a smile. “It’s alright. Are you okay?”

The girl’s shoulders visibly relax as she lets out a relieved breath. “I am, thank you. Sorry, I should really pay more attention when I’m riding. I’m really sorry,” she says. “So, so, so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I was the one standing in the middle of the path,” Juyeon tells her, unable to keep the smile off her face because of the overly-apologetic girl in front of her.

The redhead finally eases into a smile. “Yeah, try standing on the sidewalk instead,” she jokes as Juyeon lets out a chuckle. “I gotta go. Again, I apologize!"

She nods her head in several (apologetic) small bows, parting with a small wave before climbing on her bike.

Juyeon watches her pedal away, eyes trained on the vivid red hair.

Juyeon explores the rest of Yeouido Park, trying to take notes on any possible in-game advantages she could snag for herself with a bit of code-messing as she observes the environment.

Juyeon also admires; the realism of everything hasn’t failed to leave her breathless with wonder. She finds herself pausing to appreciate such minute details she’d never pay attention to in the real world, like the fresh raindrops sliding down the petals of the tulips, the ripples in the water, or the roughness of the pavement against the tips of her fingers.

Even with all this occupying her head like zeros and ones processing in a computer, there’s one thing that keeps a part of Juyeon’s mind engrossed with interest and has her both thinking and admiring: her fleeting exchange with that red-haired girl on the purple bicycle.

a/n: glass potato chips are totally legit btw. more members make their first appearance (albeit mysteriously) + i hope this chapter effectively sheds some light on the video game and its purpose/influence :)