The moment I stepped inside, Tin-can’s voice chimed in, “Welcome home, Miss Charlie. I am sorry about what happened. You have a mes—”

  “Hello, Tin-can,” I cut him off, waving dismissively at the camera perched on top of the TV. “Not now. No hard feelings, but I need to play. Bye.” I tossed my devil heels next to the capsule, along with the rest of my things, including the bag Lucas gave me, and dove into the game.

  Logging back in, I found myself in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the comforting scent of pine and the quiet hum of the forest. I took a deep breath, inhaling that earthy sweetness.

  Who ever said Earth was better than this?

  Jogging along the dirt path, I passed a few wolves burying themselves in the mud, barely sparing them a glance. My mind was already racing ahead, focused on getting to the Main Village Number Four.

  Unlike the wilderness, the village was brimming with clever design and charm.

  The elves had chosen their location well, nestled between a mountain and a winding river. Thanks to this, they could farm around the village, and as I approached, I passed many tiny farms scattered like dirty bottles in the morning bar.

  It was a win-win situation, because they got a wood they needed for their houses by clearing the trees nearby and creating more farmland at the same time. But… their wooden houses didn’t have any order, like in the big cities down by the river; they lacked the modern urban planning, as if this was only temporary.

  Some houses rotted away, some of them were on a verge of falling apart.

  Players were even trudging along the same path as me, pulling heavy stones, trees, or bags of something. Ah yes, the early quests were preparing them for the life. I might have joined them in a different simulation.

  Sure, it was nice and immersive, but compared to a fight with a werewolf? Not really my game, and it would not help Lucas. So I couldn’t help but grin as the crowds of players passed, each absorbed in tasks that were little more than fantasy day labor.

  Navigating the village wasn’t hard, thanks to my trusty minimap that traced my path wherever I went.

  Not that I’d need it. My destination, the auction house, towered above the rest, its pointed green roof reaching skyward like an elf’s ears.

  Imaginative. Very subtle.

  Although the auction house was built to host hundreds, only a handful of players loitered there, their purses as light as an empty whiskey bottle.

  The Main Village Number Four was a straightforward decision: a few interesting people were based here. Not everyone, of course, but at least two that mattered to me.

  Sadly, my favorite warrior streamer, Katherine, was at Village Number Seventeen… no. No time!

  As I slipped inside the auction house, my eyes scanned the rows of booths for Ryan.

  Back before Rimelion, he was a small-time entrepreneur who mostly sold questionable supplements and borderline-legal software. The moment the game launched, though, he bolted straight into the virtual economy and never looked back.

  Smart bastard.

  I ran into him at Patrick’s bar. He wouldn’t shut up about how Irwen had personally killed him during a siege. Real proud of that one. We’d talked a few times since, mostly because he was somehow related to Patrick.

  A third cousin? Second uncle?

  Something that required a family tree, three drinks, and a headache to sort out.

  Originally, I’d planned to wait until I had a proper character leveled up before reaching out. But time was bleeding out fast, and I didn’t have the luxury of being picky anymore.

  Luckily, my ragged clothes helped me blend in with the lower-tier players swarming the area. Nobody gave me a second glance as I made my way down the row of booths. Here, players could rent their own stalls and act as clerks if they wanted.

  Ryan had gone that route… surprise.

  Out of all the setups available, his option was “affordable,” which in auction house speak meant barely functional. Two cracked wooden poles held up a lopsided counter, and some frayed, mold-stained cloth flapped overhead like a tent someone had rage-quit halfway through building.

  Indoors.

  “Hello, Ryan!” I called out with a cheerful smile and extended my hand. No problem talking. Noted.

  This version of him was younger, pre-balding, but still thin on top, and, if memory served, still weirdly sensitive about it. That and haggling. The man could argue with a toaster, but the second you tried to bargain, he got all fussy.

  Still, he looked good. Fit for someone pushing fifty. I wasn’t nervous, weird. Not around him, not around Patrick. But Ian? Somehow that guy triggered my panic attack.

  Ryan eyed me, all business. “Welcome, miss. Do we know each other?” He took my hand and gave me a brief, overly calculating once-over.

  I grinned and dropped the hook. “Old Patrick told me about you. Said you were the guy to see.”

  His expression lit up instantly. He leaned forward across the counter like I’d just offered him a free lottery ticket. “Old Patrick, huh? Ha! Haven’t seen that guy in, what… two years? Did he show you that photo of us back in the army?”

  I instinctively took a half-step back as he spat slightly while talking. Yup. Still had that habit.

  “No, he didn’t mention that. Just showed me the old one… you and the president. Big shot, huh?” I smiled, then slid the mace across the counter. “Anyway, I’ve got something I need appraised.”

  He sat back, reached for the mace, and started inspecting it manually. Knocked it a few times like he expected it to talk back.

  Just use Appraisal, Ryan. This isn’t a drum circle.

  I forced my jaw to relax.

  After a too-long pause, he finally nodded. “Hm. Good item. Dungeon teams are farming hard right now, so we’re in peak demand. I think we could move it for five gold, easy.”

  I bit my lip. “I need the money now.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. A little too knowingly.

  “Ah. For a moment there, I thought you were questioning my valuation.” He held the pause like a practiced shopkeeper, then offered, “If you want it fast, we can set the price at four gold and get it sold within the hour. Or, if you want to skip the hassle…” His tone dropped half a register.

  “…I’ll buy it from you directly for twenty-seven silvers.”

  I winced.

  One gold was ten silvers. One silver was a hundred coppers.

  You rat. You can smell my desperation, can’t you?

  Still, I needed the cash. Fast. I nodded. “Deal. Thanks, Ryan.” My voice was flat, but he took it like a compliment.

  “What’s the current exchange rate?” I asked, shifting gears.

  “Gold’s gone up again,” he said, already grinning like a stockbroker with insider info.

  “Used to be ten gold to one credit. Now it’s flipped; two credits per gold. Can you believe that? Back in the early days, no one wanted to sell gold. Everyone was hoarding. But now that the economy’s stabilizing, people finally realize just how much this game’s worth.”

  I fired a quick message to Lucas:

  MOVE. YOUR. ASS.

  Then I turned back to Ryan with a grin.

  “Alright, since we’re talking money…”

  And just like that, we slipped into our usual rhythm. The best way to keep my panic down? Talk numbers. Let the adrenaline ride the market curve.

  While waiting for Lucas, Ryan and I chatted about the economy and upcoming features that might be added. NPC clerks had three windows, but only one was ever staffed, so you either had to wait in line or ask Ryan.

  So that’s how he built his starting capital.

  After a while, my identification expert showed up. “Lucas! Over here!” I waved, giving him a welcoming grin. Lucas stumbled around a few crates, and as soon as he was within range, I shoved the staff and books I’d picked up in the dungeon into his hands.

  I waved goodbye to Ryan, grabbed my trusty mage by the hand, and dashed toward the carpenter’s shop. Lucas looked completely bewildered, so I shot him a reassuring grin.

  “Charlie, calm down. I know we need money, but there’s no need to get this worked up.”

  Thankfully, there was no line at the carpenter’s, so we hurried in as I replied, “Yes, yes. I won’t rest until we’ve got ten thousand in our account.”

  A frail old elf was hunched over a half-finished bow when I interrupted him. “I need to learn your craft, please. And I need a saw, a chisel, and a knife.”

  The elf looked up from his work, his eyes crinkling. “Yes, of course. I’m always happy to teach young cra—”

  I dropped six silvers and five coppers onto the table. “I need it fast, please! Lives depend on it!”

  He sighed, shaking his head. “Young folks these days, always in a rush. Craftsmanship takes time, young lady. But so be it. Twenty-five coppers for the skill, and four silvers for the tools.”

  “Deal! I’ll take it as a secondary job.” I accepted as quickly as I could.

  I grabbed Lucas’s hand again, who was still very confused, and we rushed over to the alchemy and the enchanter’s shop. The owner had it organized like a cluttered warehouse, filled to the brim with ingredients, scrolls, potions, glassware, and more.

  A lingering smell of something burned hung in the air, reminding me of the time I’d raided Felix, the storm-breaker; his potions had been a real pain. I heard that player Scamantha used Felix potion to scam an entire guild. Hehe.

  I skimmed quickly through the scrolls, my eyes landing on the two I’d been searching for.

  Though the price was steep, I had no choice but to accept it… the runes were essential for my plans. The enchanting powder was cheap enough, only one silver for a bag of 100, but the Essence of Fire came in at a whopping two silvers apiece.

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  The lady at the counter, with her long gray hair and a warm smile, looked over the scrolls I brought forward. “Planning to enchant, are we?”

  “Yes, that’s the idea,” I replied. “I’ll start with a basic intelligence enchantment, and once I’ve got the hang of it, I’ll move on to Fire Resistance.”

  She grinned, placing her hand on my items and giving them a quick once-over. “Sounds like a solid plan. Want me to teach you the basics of enchanting? If you’re buying these scrolls and ingredients, I’ll throw in a lesson for free.” I nodded eagerly and quickly added three more bags of powder and three Essence of Fire to the pile.

  The shopping spree had drained my funds completely, leaving me with almost no money… or time. I grabbed Lucas and practically dragged him out of the shop, heading toward the village outskirts.

  Faster!

  Or so I thought… until he yanked me back. Ouch.

  “Charlie, hold up! What the heck are you doing? Let’s talk about what’s going on here. Yesterday, today… Forget about the money for a second. We need to think this through.”

  “Lucas, my mage with one foot in the grave, let me do my thing! If any problems pop up, I’ll just drink them away!” I shot back, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, my favorite motto in action.

  Classic me: never solving problems, just running from them. Lucas sighed, clearly unimpressed with my problem-solving philosophy.

  I dragged Lucas past the farms, and as we entered the forest, the rustling leaves and chirping birds filled the air. The fresh scent of wood hit me, but I ignored it, scanning the area for a decent branch.

  I spotted a low-hanging twig within reach and gripped it with both hands, pulling with all my might. It creaked, but my pitiful strength wasn’t enough. “Come on!” I muttered, planting my feet against the trunk for leverage and yanking with everything I had.

  Finally, it snapped, coming down with a loud crack that cost me six hit points, not that it mattered, as I healed it right away.

  Being a healer is perfect for a masochist.

  As I worked on cleaning up the piece of wood, Lucas sat on the ground, a sad look in his eyes as he watched me.

  Silly Lucas, I thought, everything I’m doing is for your sake.

  What a lovely item I’d crafted, right?

  Opening the enchanting window, I noticed it looked almost identical to the magic interface, except it only had two rune slots. I selected the [Rune of Intelligence] and watched the tutorial.

  Easy enough.

  With an intentionally shaky hand, I sprinkled the sparkling powder unevenly around the spear, then clumsily tried to trace the rune with my improvised stick. Honestly, I couldn’t have drawn it right even if I’d been trying.

  Reaching into my inventory, I grabbed a chisel and used it to “repair” the spear. With that done, I ‘tried’ the enchantment process again.

  Yes! As I attempted to enchant the weapon again, the internal counter ticked up another rank. This was it… one step closer to greatness!

  Lucas watched Charlie for what felt like an hour, his gaze filled with sadness and despair.

  She was dusting a tree branch with powder.

  Then she traced a rune in the air.

  Then she set the branch on fire.

  Then she tapped it with a chisel… and started the entire process over again.

  Hundreds of times.

  He shouldn’t have brought her into this. No, he shouldn’t have gone to the loan sharks in the first place! But that wasn’t who he was; he had to go, had to ask, had to play the stupid Riker’s game. Charlie had told him to stop, but he hadn’t listened. And now? His best friend John was gone because of him. How was he supposed to live with that?

  This Charlie was even crazier than the old Charlie.

  She ran barefoot through the game like her life was on the line, not his. It was his fault she’d gone off the deep end, lighting branches on fire over and over.

  For him.

  His eyes grew heavy, and he couldn’t hold back the tears. Why was this happening? Strangely, the flames Charlie conjured had a calming effect, and he felt himself drifting off, lulled by the steady rhythm.