A single road cuts through the thick, overgrown forest.

A massive army marches in formation along it. Not one steps off the path, not even the flying monsters — they, too, follow the road with stubborn honesty.

"They've entered the range."

From the countless small towers set up along the sides of the road, arrows and magic rain down like a torrential storm.

They show no signs of counterattacking and continue walking in silence. One after another, their comrades fall, but they feel no fear. No one stops, and no one turns back.

Blindly, they just keep moving forward, forward.

Though the storm of attacks is intense enough to make one's eyes ache, monsters begin to emerge, pushing through that area with sheer numbers and endurance.

"Well, they’ve got to be able to manage at least this much."

A golem, a magical lifeform made from countless interlocked rocks, shows off its impressive defense as it approaches — and then vanishes.

More precisely, it falls into a gaping hole in the ground. Despite being set at over two meters tall by design, one after another, they keep falling into pitfall traps.

Even though the golems that follow should realize there's a hole, they make no effort to avoid it and fall all the same.

A demon with wings sprouting from its back ignores its foolish companions and flies overhead — but suddenly crashes and collapses face-down on the ground.

I've got that countermeasure covered. A powerful gravity trap has been laid there.

"Time to finish them off."

I activate the massive crossbows — the ballistae — lined up along the top of the wall, mercilessly firing log-sized bolts into the crowd.

"Let the one-sided massacre begin."

"Alright, that was perfect. Area cleared."

I remove the goggles I had been wearing on my head.

Having just witnessed the flashy battles of the VR world, I can’t help but chuckle at the bland and simple interior of my room.

Bed, desk, chair, PC, trash can. That’s all there is.

Everything else is tucked away in the walk-in closet or other storage spaces.

I sit up in bed and do a few light stretches. VR is awesome — immersive and fun — but I really wish they’d do something about the strange feeling afterward.

There’s a slight disconnect between your real body and your virtual one — a kind of sensory mismatch. It fades after a bit, though.

"Guess that's too much of a first-world problem."

Over the past few years, VR — virtual reality — technology has advanced rapidly.

If the TV special I saw was to be believed, it’s thanks to billionaires around the world banding together, recruiting talented engineers, and pouring in vast research funds.

In VR, you can become the appearance you desire, regain youth, and move freely. That was the dream and desire of the aged wealthy.

In short, it’s like a pseudo-rejuvenation spell. Long ago, many sought eternal youth and immortality, clinging to suspicious magic, curses, or alchemy.

'VR is the modern-day elixir of youth.'

That’s what some commentator said with a smug look on his face.

Thanks to those desires, VR technology saw dramatic progress. It could now replicate not just realistic visuals but sensations as well — sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.

Even though it’s a game, they succeeded in creating a world nearly indistinguishable from reality. At first, it was a privilege of the rich, but no wealthy person could resist such a profitable idea.

Within a few years, it rapidly spread to the general public — and now here we are.

"Alright! Cleared the highest difficulty — Inferno! That’s full completion."

There were several moments where they nearly reached the castle gate, but I managed to push them back just in time.

The game I’d been playing was Death Parade TD.

A tower defense game known for its freedom, stunning visuals, and rewarding gameplay.

Honestly, it was extremely difficult. I’ve played tower defense games from all over the world, but this one’s highest difficulty was hands down the toughest.

Technically, there were paid options for permanent stat boosts, powerful traps, and items, but I cleared it without using any of those.

Apparently, there are also easy win methods involving exploits or bugs. But I never even checked any strategy sites — I cleared it all on my own.

It’s way more fun to figure things out yourself and grind through it repeatedly.

"Tower defense really is the best."

Still, now that I’ve completely finished this game, I’m kind of afraid other games are going to feel bland in comparison.

There are people who mock me, saying, “You’re still playing games at your age?” — but I want to proudly declare, “Fun is fun no matter how old you are.”

Even in your thirties, you have the right to enjoy yourself.

'The ultimate tower defense, just for you!'

That marketing slogan wasn’t a lie. It truly was the best — I can praise it without any reservation.

I want to savor the satisfaction of completion a bit longer, but…

I reach for the phone I had left beside my pillow to check the time.

Currently, 7 a.m. Time to get ready for work.

After quickly changing clothes, I open the door to my room, walk down the hall, and move into the living-dining-kitchen area.

Standing in the open-plan kitchen that was remodeled to suit my mother’s preferences, I swiftly start preparing breakfast.

While the bread is toasting in the oven, I make soup, a salad, and think I’ll also fry up some bacon and eggs.

Just as I lay out breakfast on the table, two people show up — almost like they had been waiting for the cue.

"Thanks, as always. Sorry for making you do this every time."

A mother apologizing, wearing light purple pajamas, her hair mussed with bedhead and her eyelids half-closed.

She has long, black hair, clear skin, and—though it's odd to say about one's own parent—she has a good figure for her age. A decade ago, someone like her might have been called a “beautiful witch.” Or so she proudly once claimed.

Incidentally, the tear mole under her right eye is supposedly her charm point.

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want your usual tea?”

“Please~. I was planning to treat you to a taste of Mom’s cooking today, though.”

She says that every day, but she’s never followed through.

While I prepare three cups of tea, I hear the sound of the door connecting to the dining room opening.

“Mmm, the scent of tea and toasted bread. The perfect wake-up call, isn’t it, Kaname?”

The one appearing in dark green sweats worn as pajamas is my older sister, four years my senior.

With long, dyed brown hair and refined features, she clearly takes after Mom’s genes. She looks good. Despite being older than me, she could still pass for her twenties—barely.

Fresh out of the morning bath, her slightly damp hair carries a faint fragrance of shampoo.

“If you’ve got that much energy, maybe help with breakfast or something?”

“Not a chance!”

She declares proudly, puffing out her chest.

“The right person for the right job. Kaname’s the best cook, so it's fine. And Mom’s terrible at housework anyway.”

“You’re throwing Mom under the bus…”

Smiling at our downcast mother, my sister takes the seat next to her.

I place tea in front of them both, and I alone begin eating breakfast.

“You two should at least eat some breakfast. Just tea isn’t good for your health.”

“I’m part of the no-breakfast faction~.”

“Mom can’t eat right after waking up, sorry.”

I knew what their answers would be, but I couldn’t help saying it.

They probably do it to maintain their figures, but still—health should come first.

“Besides, unlike you, I work from home, and Mom takes it slow in the mornings too.”

That’s true. I’m the only one who commutes diligently to work.

These days remote work is mainstream, but that depends on the job. Office workers, like my sister, mostly work from home.

“It’d be ridiculous if a building maintenance worker wasn’t at the building, right?”

My job is building management. Security, equipment inspection, cleaning, and more—I handle all the tasks related to the building and issue instructions.

That might sound impressive, but I’m really just a jack-of-all-trades for the building.

“Most of the trading companies in the building are remote too. You only occasionally see someone come in. Anyway, I should get going.”

As I stood up, my sister’s voice called out behind me.

“Still, couldn’t you pay a little more attention to your fashion? If you’re allowed to wear casual clothes to work, then maybe, like…”

I turned around to find her giving me a deadpan stare.

A plain gray long-sleeved shirt, navy jeans, and a black backpack. Nothing weird about it.

“Simple is best.”

“You’ve totally gone into defensive mode. I wish you’d show a little more playful or bold spirit.”

My sister works in fashion, so she tends to check my outfits and make comments. Not that I asked her to.

“How foolish. Life is meant to be lived on the defensive. Prudence is best.”

With that, I left the dining room.

I entered the massive building and took the elevator to the floor our company leases.

In the locker room, I put on my work uniform.

I checked myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the locker door.

Top and bottom: gray workwear. A plain, simple design focused on functionality. Yep, this is fine.

“Kaname, what are you grinning about? Gross.”

“How rude. And call me Section Chief properly.”

“Our company sure has a surplus of titles, doesn’t it, Section Chief Katakami?”

“Yeah, Acting Section Chief Naoi.”

Naoi, dressed in the same uniform, smiled at me.

He has messy, bedhead-like brown hair—which, apparently, is trendy these days. He’s taller and more muscular than me, but in terms of looks… I win. Probably.

“Alright then, let’s uphold order and protect the building. Time to work hard.”

“Okaay. You’re always ridiculously serious, aren’t you?”

“Rules and regulations exist to be followed.”

I’ve known this guy for a long time. A so-called childhood friend. We went to the same elementary, middle, and high school, but attended different universities. We both applied to the same college, but only I got in.

We reunited years later at a company interview site, and here we are. At this point, this stubborn connection might actually be something admirable.

According to Naoi:

“It’s not a stubborn tie—it’s a bond, you know?”

Or so he claims. Personally, I’d rather have had that bond with a beautiful childhood friend.

“Hey, we’re about to start work. Don’t fiddle with your phone.”

“It’s still before starting time, so it’s fine.”

I checked my phone, prompted by his words. Three minutes left. No problem. I’m strict about punctuality, but as long as the rules are followed, I see no need to nitpick.

“Hm? I’ve got an email.”

I had only intended to check the time, but I might as well check my email too.

I tapped to open it and looked at the subject line.

“Congratulations on fully clearing Death Parade TD! You’ve been granted the right to test a brand-new game! The ultimate tower defense experience for all TD lovers! Are you ready for the challenge?”