With the girls giving me a bit of space—finally deciding that keeping one of them within a ten-minute radius of me at all times worked nearly as well as having one sleeping over—I had one plan for the night: sink into my recliner, raid with the boys, and eat enough coconut shrimp to put a dent in the ocean’s crustacean population.

  Controller in hand, headset snug, I dropped Sir Dumpsalot into position like the seasoned paladin scrub I was.

  AxeMaster69: left flank!

  pwnedURmom: dude dodge for once omg

  xX420NoScopeXx: bro plays like a fridge with wi-fi

  “Love you too,” I muttered into my headset, mashing block as coconut shrimp grease slicked the controller.

  C00chieGoblin: he’s eating again isn’t he

  pwnedURmom: shrimp or nuggets this time?

  xX420NoScopeXx: shrimp confirmed. I heard the crunch.

  “Focus up,” I grunted, dodging a boss swipe. “The shrimp give me power.”

  AxeMaster69: bro you’d be unstoppable if cholesterol was a buff.

  I snorted so hard I nearly inhaled breading. Then Axe dropped the bomb.

  AxeMaster69: so… Elfgate 25 huh?

  I froze mid-combo, choking on half a shrimp. “The—what now?”

  xX420NoScopeXx: don’t play dumb, that girl from last time…

  C00chieGoblin: elf girl. pointy ears. 10/10 would let ruin me

  “Did you ever consider that the reason you can’t pull elf girls is because you talk about them this way?”

  xX420NoScopeXx: Rule number one of talking to elf girls is humility?

  pwnedURmom: so it was an elf girl?

  “It was a filter,” I said quickly. “Weird lighting. Nothing to see here.”

  pwnedURmom: looked REAL, not cosplay. explain yourself bro

  AxeMaster69: nah that was hot goth Tinkerbell and you know it. Seen her at IHOP.

  X420NoScopeXx: pics or it didn’t happen (again)

  C00chieGoblin: …she had garlic knots in the shot. wife material. 4 realz.

  I groaned. “It’s not what you think, okay? But if you really want dirt—I kissed three people last week. For money.”

  Dead silence. Then chaos.

  AxeMaster69: LMAO GIGACHAD

  pwnedURmom: cap. massive cap.

  xX420NoScopeXx: screenshots rn

  C00chieGoblin: father, tell me your ways. I am joining the Tao of Mercer. I’ve already heard rule number one. I must be humble.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “It’s not like that!” I snapped, flailing my sword at the boss. “It’s… professional.”

  pwnedURmom: …bro you’re a gigolo???

  xX420NoScopeXx: charging hourly or flat rate?

  AxeMaster69: garlic bread upcharge for tongue?

  C00chieGoblin: my man’s running a kissing cartel.

  “I’m not a gigolo!” I shouted, stabbing wildly at the demon.

  AxeMaster69: okay but if you were you’d tell us right?

  pwnedURmom: nah he’d hide it. shameful. tragic.

  xX420NoScopeXx: worst part is I believe him. dude’s built like a snack machine, but is a coochie magnet.

  “Snack machine?” I sputtered. “What does that even mean—?”

  C00chieGoblin: pull the right lever, you get a prize.

  “That’s a sad description of my love life. I feel besmirched.”

  xX420NoScopeXx: I’m all about smirching.

  AxeMaster69: Worry not, Dumpsy. I, too, am built like a snack machine, on account of hefting a mighty hammer.

  “What the heck does that even mean now? What are you guys talking about tonight?”

  pwnedURmom: if you have to ask…

  A moment of silence, punctuated with furious button mashing. Someone had to break the concentrated silence though…

  C00chieGoblin: The first rule of Elf Girls is we don’t talk about Elf Girls.

  I muted before they could hear me scream into a pillow. Then I went back to rocking this boss.

  After I finally convinced the boys that I wasn’t running a garlic bread-fueled kissing cartel (and that Zorka’s “miracle cream” was absolutely not for public consumption), I logged out. My controller hit the coffee table with a clatter, and for once, the silence in my apartment felt heavier than the noise.

  The spider was quiet in the pantry. Too quiet. Probably in a food-color coma after binging half a box of expired toaster pastries.

  I sighed, staring at the mess of shrimp tails, energy drink cans, and a half-finished bag of coconut flakes on the coffee table. Normal night. Normal-ish life. If you squinted hard enough.

  Then my gaze landed on the burner phone Jade had given me—the one etched with faint runes that pulsed when the light hit them, like something under the plastic was breathing. It didn’t buzz, didn’t glow, didn’t even pretend to be normal. But it only had one number in the contacts list.

  I set it aside, forcing myself to pick up my normal phone instead.

  Time to get answers. And there was one guy in the information business who hadn’t shown up to our clan rally tonight in the game world.

  SilentWatcher.

  I stared at his name until my thumb made the decision my brain didn’t want to. The line rang once. Then it picked up.

  Static. Like the sound of tape being rewound too slow.

  “...Watcher?” I asked. My voice cracked. Perfect. “It’s Mercer.”

  The static deepened, bent itself into syllables. A voice, half on the line and half in the back of my skull: “YOU SHOULD NOT CALL.”

  “Well, hi to you too.” I rubbed my forehead. “Look, we’ve got a problem. Something’s been tagging people. They vanish after. They’re fake-looking—like people built out of paper and bad intentions. They have these… mailbox torsos. I need answers. You’re my answer guy…”

  The silence stretched long enough that I wondered if the call had dropped. Then, finally, he cleared his throat and stopped speaking in all caps. “We’ve been hearing about them. You are not the first. We think they’re collectors.”

  “Yeah, we guessed that much.” My laugh was brittle. “What are they? Who sends them?”

  The line hissed. “They log. They record. They observe. And they collect.”

  I swallowed. “The paper tags—they mark targets?”

  A pause. Then something like paper ripping on the other end. “They’re ledger entries, names and items written down. Bodies taken to balance a page.”

  Cold sweat prickled at my neck. “Balance what page?”

  The static chuckled. It was not a nice sound. “Theirs. You think you’re outside the system as a null. But now you’re on the playing board, working for Jade.”

  My stomach dropped. “How the hell do you know about that? Only the girls and I—”

  “You are a line item now,” he interrupted, “a debt to be collected like any other.”

  I gripped the phone tighter. “Then why not warn me? Why not help me?”

  “My organization is not ready. We don’t move without information.” His voice shifted, softer—almost human. “We’re still tracking the source. But if they collect you, they’ll find me too, based on our connections, tenuous though they may be.”

  My stomach twisted. “Great. We’re in the same boat.”

  “No.” A hiss like knives dragged across glass. “You are the boat. The rest of us are just flotsam and jetsam.”

  And then the line went dead.

  I sat there, staring at the phone until the screen went dark. The coconut shrimp from earlier had gone cold and sour.

  In the pantry, the Pop-Tart Spider clicked once, loud as a lock turning. “BOAT.”

  “Fantastic,” I muttered. “More nautical references. That’s comforting.”

  The spider didn’t respond. Just clicked once more. Long. Slow. Final.

  And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t want to go near the water.