Read more of Rin and Hye-jin's adventures!

It's Rin and Hye-jin against the world. Or so it should have been.

Nagara Rin and Joon Hye-jin, college sweethearts and passionate gamers, have lived a fairytale marriage. Not even a decade after did they expect to be signing divorce papers. Now, standing on opposing paths, they only need to get out of each other's lives, move on, and hopefully, be happy.

That is until they get trapped inside their favorite video game.

Here, they must meet friends and foes alike as they join dangerous quests and battle monsters they only ever see behind a screen. And they must do it alone, apart from each other, as they have always wanted. But when rumors flare up about an ancient evil being resurrected in their new world, Rin and Hye-jin must throw all grievances aside and work together or else risk losing more than the game.

Once more, it's Rin and Hye-jin against the world.

Maybe.

It was because of the darkness of the city outside the window that I prayed for light.

Not because of the growing dread in my gut, twisting my intestines into tight knots. Certainly not because of the piles of cardboard boxes scattered over the patterned rug or the bare walls void of the frames holding a farce of our lives. But somehow, we're here—both trapped in the moment of crunching bubble wraps, dust particles floating in the air and covering the floor in thin layers, and the growing towers of things we wanted but never needed.

Nothing could be done to avoid this outcome. Rather, I did nothing to avoid it.

"Hye-jin," a voice I haven't decided if I hated or not speared through my thoughts. "Who's going to take the vintage plates?"

I tore my eyes away from the bustling city beyond the window, away from the little pockets of light whizzing through the roads and flashing from the buildings, and made sure my stare was as flat as the kitchen counter behind him. "I don't know, Rin," my voice was hollow like it was being scraped clean of any traces of who I was. It didn't sound like me. At all. "When was the last time we used it?"

Rin frowned. He set the box he was carrying from the dining room at the foot of the couch. Distinct clinks of porcelain rang from the inside. The mugs, maybe. "I don't think we ever did," he answered. His eyes moved towards the empty spot on the otherwise lengthy couch where I sat. "So, who's going to take it?"

My lips curled in on themselves. Rin had always complained about the plates and how I skimped on their use for "special occasions". Of course, the only special occasion we ever had was now, when we were already dividing up the house like the piece of property it was. He was adamant about using things for their purpose, and plates sitting in the dark were the opposite of what they were used for. Did Rin resent me for that?

"You can take it," I averted my eyes as Rin sank into the couch. We're on the opposite ends, each armrest claimed. Too far to reach me. That's what led to this whole fiasco, anyway.

He sighed, a sound so heavy it felt like it settled on my shoulders not long after. If I don't follow suit, it might crush me.

I held my breath in.

"You gave those up fairly quick," Rin noted inclining his head at me.

I didn't look at him. I couldn't, anyway. Instead, I let my gaze wander and ultimately rest on the single vase neither of us could touch, much less throw away. A bunch of purple lilacs sat over its slender neck, giving it some sort of a fluffy tophat. Rin's statement burned at the back of my head. He seemed to be implying more than the plates. But for the most part, anyone would be quick to shed things they just didn't care for any longer. It's his fault for failing to realize that.

A lot of this was his fault.

"Hye-jin, just..." the hesitance in his tone finally made me throw a sideways glance at him. Ever since we walked out of court a few weeks ago, I hadn't looked at him longer than a few seconds. But now...

Let's just say he looked like the lilacs on the vase. Wilting.

"Have you finished emptying the bedroom?" I asked. Rin's shoulders flinched. Must have been my tone. Whatever.

He jerked his chin towards the box he had set down. The patterned rug had never looked so silly against our bare feet. All flowers and colors. It reminded me of what had become of the home it was supposed to be decorating in the worst way possible—by showing me what I wished it to be.

"I will, if you get your ass out of there and help, for once," Rin brushed the hair out of his face with a slow swipe. It was early into the winter but beads of sweat rolled down from the side of his face. Did I crank the heating too much? Well, that's his problem. I couldn't stand the cold.

Then, I noticed the pointed jab from his statement. I whipped to him with a scoff. "Me, not helping?" I laid a hand on my chest. "Can't I rest just for a second, Rin? I've been hammering away at the living room all morning, taking down the mess you made in the first place."

Rin opened his mouth to say something but decided against it with a small shake of his head. "Let's not do this, Hye-jin," his tone softened as he slouched against the couch's backrest. "Not on our last day."

There it was. One of us was finally brave enough to say it.

I closed my eyes despite the growing dread in my chest of being alone with someone who I no longer had connections with, at least according to the law. "What would you have us do, then?" I said, weaker and more pathetic than I intended. As much as I hated it, Rin had always been the one to see this side of me. Most of the time, he's the one who was able to coax it out.

"Seeing as you haven't touched the console, I'm assuming you're still not ready to let it go?" Rin flicked his gaze towards the flatscreen television sitting a few paces from the couch. The wall behind the television had never been so...white.

A light snort escaped my lips. "It's more like I can't decide if I should take it or worry about the other half you put into it," I replied.

Rin glanced at the console again, his dark pupils moving in rapid, discordant inflections. Thinking. He's been doing a lot of that since last year. But like all the months and years I've been with him, I never really had any luck in deciphering whatever was going on in his thick skull.

"One last game?" Rin turned to me with a small smile. He never smiled at me since that night in my hometown. "For old time's sake?"

My first instinct, the first word that should have flown out of my mouth, was No. Instead, I clenched my jaw, keeping the view of the wilting lilacs off of my periphery, and met Rin's eyes for the longest time in a while. "What are you planning?" I asked.

Rin rolled his shoulders. The plain army green shirt he wore didn't really suit him, but it's not like he'd stop wearing something he'd gotten himself for the holidays despite all my complaints. Then again, he'd just snap at me, saying I complain too much. Damn right, I do. That's the only way I could be heard in this house.

"Nothing. Jeez, Hye-jin. I'm not a criminal," he threw his hands up and chuckled. "One last game, then I'd rescind all of my rights on the console. Deal?"

I arched an eyebrow. Rin never made deals that weren't advantageous to him in some way. The sales person in him, talking. That's what this was.

Still, as we both know, this was the last time we would be spending time alone in a room together. After all this, we're going to live our own lives, where we'd have no choice but to survive, to make it on our own.

Because marriage was like meat. Both didn't mean anything, but somehow society convinced us we couldn't live without them. It wasn't the end and neither was what we've recently faced.

We gave each other a chance. To begin again or something just as cheesy. And this time, the plan was to live like this whole thing didn't happen, like I could survive even without this chapter in my life. Because I had to.

So, what's one more game? What's one last game?

"Deal," I said.