Ian stormed into his apartment, smming the door so hard the walls seemed to tremble. “Charlie… John… I k.” His hands shook as he fumbled with his phone, his entire body humming with barely tained rage.

  Ba high school, John had always stolen the spotlight. Effortlessly charismatic, he drew people in—especially the girls—without even trying. Meanwhile, Ian followed every rule: strict diets, grueling gym routines, and endless rehearsals of clever pickup lines. Yet no matter how hard he worked, it was always John who they noticed.

  When Ian finally nded his dream job, he thought he’d left John behind food. But no—John still outshined him, breezing through QA tests and earning glowing praise from their shared boss. Ian had swallowed bitter defeat then, but this? This was worse.

  Now, in the live game—his ce to finally get ahead—John was back. And not just back, but transformed. Now a girl. A beautiful one. And if that weren’t enough, a hero.

  A hero.

  The ph as Ian’s fist crashed onto the desk, the wood groaning uhe force. His jaw ched. John hadn’t admitted the truth, but Ian knew. He’d always known.

  “Yes?” A cool female voiswered at st.

  “You were right,” Ian hissed, venom dripping from his words. “It’s him. I’m in. I don’t care what it takes—I’m going to ruin his game.”

  “Perfect,” the voice replied, calm and calcuted. “We’ve determihat pushing the target’s friend—Damon—will provoke him. His file shows a history of votility.”

  Ian blinked. Damon? Violence? “Are you sure?” he asked, skepticism cutting through his anger. “Damon’s tame. He wouldn’t—”

  “We’re positive. He’s a critical part of the pn. But if Damon fails, you’ll o step in.”

  Ian exhaled sharply, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Fine,” he growled. “Whatever it takes.”

  Sunlight filtered ay face, and I stirred, stretg out. Wait—where the hell am I? The bed I was in definitely wasn’t mine. As I looked around, the word “luxurious” leaped into my mind. The furnishings, the tasteful decor… This had to be Lucas’s bedroom. A slight sense of ease washed over me, and I even managed a small smile.

  What? No! I jolted up and threw the b off. just a long-sleeve bck shirt with a weird, anonymous mask printed on it, I scrambled around the room. My heart raced as I took in the sight of various items scattered across the floor—my left shoe, my bra, my other shoe. What the hell happe night?

  The st clear memory I had was seeing Ian’s face as he walked into the bar, and then whiskey. A lot of whiskey. Beyond that, it was just a blur—vague impressions of navigating a restroom, everything hazy after that.

  I ’t believe it. This body is so pathetic it ’t even hahree drinks without crashing.

  I quickly put my bra ba, slipped the shirt over it, and kicked those traitorous shoes into the er. Evil things! Taking a cautious peek through the slightly cracked bedroom door, I saw the coast was clear—no one lingering in the living room.

  Relieved, I opehe door wider and padded toward the kit, yawning. The aroma of melting butter and something delicious sizzling oove hit me, and I found Lucas cooking up breakfast, the smell alone making my stomach growl.

  But how was I supposed to ask him what happened? Was it okay to just… ask? As I settled at the table, still chewing over how to phrase it, Lucas pced a steaming omelet in front of me. “Good m, Charlie,” he greeted with a gentle smile.

  I nodded, digging my spoon into the omelet. Despite my best effort, my mood was written all over my face. “M. you… tell me what happened yesterday?” I took a bite, the warm, fluffy egg melting on my to was so good that I couldn’t help but y eyes for a moment. Yummy!

  “Nothing!” he replied so quickly and loudly, I nearly choked on my spoonful of omelet.

  “Then why… we’re here?” I managed with my mouth full, sav every bite. How something so simple taste this incredible? Swallowing, I beamed at him. “Seriously, this is amazing! What’s your secret? How did you make it taste this good?”

  Lucas sat down across from me with his own pte, shrugging modestly. “Thank you. Just a little salt and butter, nothing fancy. As for st night… Well, you got pretty drunk at the bar, but aside from going on and on about living in a simution, everything was fine.”

  “Then why are we here?” My question made him ugh, a full, hearty ugh I didn’t find funny in the slightest. With a furrowed brow, I kicked him uhe table. “Not helping!”

  “Sorry, sorry! So, you wao take a taxi, but after a few rounds, you became fixated on ‘quering the devil’s shoes’—even though, by then, you couldn’t walk barefoot without my help. When we finally reached your apartment, you insisted you’d carry me in the game, but said you first o master walking. And that’s how we ended up here.”

  “And…?”

  Lucas gnced away, l his voice. “You fell outside a few times and dirtied your dress, so I gave you one of my shirts. Then I crashed on the couch.”

  “Oh,” I said, nodding as I stretched and stifled a yawn. “Yeah, that sounds like me. So that’s all, right?”

  “Of course! Nothing else!” A wave of relief washed over me—no shady enters, no disasters. Just… a bit of a mess, but no trouble.

  I devoured the rest of the meal, finishing just as Lucas’s watch buzzed. He g the message, but his expression froze. His spoon cttered to the floor, the metallic sound eg in the silence. I grimaced—what a waste of perfectly excellent breakfast!

  “Charlie… you were right. You were freaking right!”

  I rubbed my eyes and leaned in to peek at his watch, but he had already dismissed the message. “I’m always right, but what are we talking about this time?”

  “The reality…” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “It’s a simution. Our friend Pearl firmed it. She thinks the game is the reality… it doesn’t make sense. I hope not but, we might be… we’re… just NPCs,” he stammered, his hands visibly shaking.

  “Oh, that?” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. “Yeah, I figured. Kind of suspected it, anyway. But what difference does it make? It’s not like you just hack the system and turn into a god.” A gri onto my face as a mischievous thought surfaced. “But… maybe we exploit it. Imagine all the things we could do if the world’s a game!”

  “Right?” Lucas’s voice dropped, his face growing pale. “But what if we’re only NPCs… and they’re the pyers?”

  Seeing the panic building in his eyes, I reached across the table and held his hand. “So what? What ges, really? I mean, look at me—two days ago, I wasn’t even a girl! This world, simution, game, whatever it is, it’s already bizarre. Why let it shake you?”

  Another beep came from his watch, and Lucas’s face drained of all color. His gaze darted around the room as if something evil was closing in on us.

  “You o go. Now. Out the back window, jump!” His voice rose with urgency, and before I could process it, he had gripped my arm, practically dragging me from the table. I tried tle free, but my smaller frame was no match for his strength.

  With a st shove, he pushed me into his bedroom and smmed the door before I could protest.

  I darted from one wall to the other, then reached for the doorknob, but stopped, hand h. Lucas wouldn’t have shoved me in here if there wasn’t a good reason. Maybe I should think this through… or at least prepare a good sp for him ter. Pressing my ear against the door, I tried to make sense of the muffled voices from the living room.

  “Lucas, why are you doing this?” a woman’s voice demanded, sharp and disapproving. “We told you—no more questions. A, you just keep pushing.”

  Lucas responded, but his voice was faint, almost defeated. “I owe you money, not my soul. I’ll ask as many questions as I damn well want.”

  “Then pay up,” she retorted. There ause, then the sound of footsteps drawing closer. “No? Then until you clear that debt, you’ll stay away from Pearl and anyone else. Especially them. Do you uand?” A sed, gruffer voice chimed in, punctuated by the crash of something breaking—a vase, maybe, or that fake flower he always joked about.

  “Our boss doesn’t like questions,” the woman’s voice said, id final.

  Should I step in? I was weighing my options, heart pounding, when I heard a chilling sound from the other side of the door, one I knew all too well—the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.

  Years ago, in the dead of night, strange noises dragged me from sleep. I crept dowairs, and that’s when I heard it—the unmistakable, cold click of a gun being cocked. Seds ter, gunshots shattered the silence, and my step-parents colpsed right before my eyes.

  That night, something in me cracked. It was my first memory, a seven-year-old frozen iaring at death. Now, with the same sound ringing in my ears, my mind spiraled, weighed down by the horror of that memory, like a barrel crashing down on me. My palms grew slick with sweat as a voiside screamed, You ’t go out there!

  No. Not again. I have to save him.

  I rubbed a sleeve over my eyes, desperate, and sprioward the living room.

  Corre—I tried to sprint. My feet wouldn’t budge.

  I was rooted to the floor, as if every nerve aralyzed. Move! Now! It’s my fault he’s involved, that he reached out to that damn Pearl because of me. He ’t die because of me!

  A surge of fierce determination broke through, and I spped my face to snap out of it. Finally, I burst through the door, shouting in a voice that shook with fear, “Honey! I—I got something in my eye, I ’t see! Help!”

  I staggered into the room with both sleeves pressed to my eyes, shielding myself in a panicked, blind act. Great job, John, real smart. Now, if they shot, I’d never see it ing. My heart hammered so hard I half-expected it to echh the room, and actual tears pooled beh my shes, blurring my vision even more. Maybe they’d think I was really g. One more point for ag.

  Instead of gunfire, I felt Lucas’s familiar warmth as he rushed to me, his arms ing around and his st grounding me. He hugged me tightly, his haly stroking my hair as he whispered, “Sweetheart, just a sed. I’ll help you.”

  His voice, oddly tender, reassured me, and my knees buckled, letting his embrae up.

  A disdainful scoff came from across the room. “Pathetic. Saved by a girl. One week, you hear me, kid? One week.” Two sets of footsteps moved toward the front door, and a loud sm sigheir exit.

  Lucas sighed, his voice heavy with emotion. “I want to kiss yht now, you know that?”

  I pulled away, quid firm. “No. Don’t go there.” My voice sharpened. “Now, tell me—what was that all about?”

  He took a deep breath, staring at the floor. “I told you I owe a lot of money, didn’t I? They wahousand by week.”

  “Thehe apartment.”

  “I ’t. I don’t actually own it—I just live here because I once helped the building owner recover some old videos of her husband. Even if I sold every piece of tech I have—puter, monitors, capsule—I’d barely scrape together a few thousand. And they’ll e for aen thousand the month after.”

  “I get it,” I said, resolute. “I’ll carry you.” I marched to the bedroom, grabbing my heels with trembling hands. This was all my fault. All my fault, damn it.

  Lucas followed me, trying to help undo the straps on the shoes, but I swatted his hand away. He leaned on the door, watg as I fumbled, my frustration mounting. “Charlie, you ’t go outside like that. Here—take some clothes from the drawer.” He poio a sports bag, and I pulled it open, barely notig what was inside.

  “I’ll go like this, watch me!” I took a step, nearly tripping, and grabbed the drawer to keep from falling. That did it—the shoes came off.

  “Wait, please! You ’t help me in the game. You’d have to amass a fortune. You’d o make at least a third of the game’s total sales,” he protested, desperation in his voice.

  “Just a little over five thousand gold. It’s doable.” I pushed him away from the door. Well, I tried to—he held his ground, blog my way.

  “Fine,” I muttered, swinging my shoes over my shoulder and squeezing past him on his left. With my smaller frame, I slipped by. Win! “Now go, log into the game. I need you to identify something.”

  He gred, but didn’t stop me.

  I shot him a sad smile. “Hush. Just go.” And I hurried dowairs, ign the receptionist’s fused look as I rushed outside. Tears streamed down my face the erip home.

  Lucas, you will not die. Not this time.

  Fine, you twisted world. I’ll take the risk—I’ll exploit whatever I have to, even if it gets me banned.