Jack’s father headed to the living room, settling into one of the armchairs perfectly positioned in front of the TV. His mother followed with a bowl of chips and two fresh cokes.

"Thanks, honey," his father said, cracking open a can.

"Thanks, Mom. Are you going to watch the game with us?" Jack asked.

"I’ll be there in a minute, just finishing up the chicken wings."

Chicken wings... No matter how good Rob's kitchen android was, it had nothing on his mom’s wings. Unbeatable. Jack could already taste them, his mind drifting back to family gatherings where the smell of frying chicken always meant good times. He remembered watching countless football games growing up, his dad shouting at the TV while his mom brought over plates of wings—only to join in, yelling even louder at the screen. Lydia had even been over for one of those games once. Jack frowned at the memory. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"How was your weekend?" his father asked, eyes glued to the TV as the commentators went over the team lineups.

"It was good. Busy, but good." Jack hesitated, then added, "I actually got a text from Lydia today."

His mother’s head popped up from the kitchen, her hands coated in batter.

"Lydia? What did she say?"

"Well... this morning, I wrote her a letter and dropped it off at her café. I apologized for some things I did."

"Son, apologizing takes strength. Well done." His father’s voice was calm, steady.

"Sometimes, 'I’m sorry' is more important than 'I love you.'"

"She got the letter?" His mom paused mid-batter, brow raised.

"Yeah, she thanked me for sending it."

Jack took a sip of coke, trying to focus on the TV like his dad, but the truth was, he didn’t know why he was suddenly spilling everything. It had been a long time since he’d opened up like this. Maybe it was because he’d already earned half the rent, which took some of the pressure off. Or maybe it was just the loneliness Lydia’s lukewarm message had stirred up.

"If she replied the same day she got the letter," his mother said, "that might mean there’s still something there, Jack."

"You think?"

"I don’t know, but it’s a good sign. What are you going to do now?"

"Honestly? I’m not sure."

His father turned toward him, eyes searching Jack's face. "You never really told us what happened between you two."

The statement hung in the air. Jack hesitated, then decided to come clean—at least about part of it.

"She was upset when I quit my job at the supermarket. Said I wasn’t thinking about our future, about us."

His parents stayed quiet, which Jack appreciated. He didn’t want to hear them say how right Lydia was.

"Well, you’re starting vocational school," his father finally said. "You’re taking responsibility. Maybe when she sees that, she’ll come around."

"Maybe," Jack said, though he wasn’t convinced. How could she come around when the one thing his father was praising—vocational school—was a lie?

Talking about Lydia had felt good at first, but now the conversation was inching into territory that made him uneasy. Jack shifted in his chair. The soft cushions that had once felt welcoming now seemed to trap him.

"I think we’ve got a lot to celebrate this week," his mother said, her voice warm. "She replied to your letter, and you’re starting something new... Let’s just relax and enjoy the game tonight."

"Yes. And if our team wins, that’ll cap off the week perfectly," his father added, offering a way out of the topic. "Who do you think’s going to win?"

The oil sizzled in the kitchen as his mother fried the wings, and Jack settled back onto the couch, talking football with his dad. The loneliness that had been clinging to him since he left the game seemed to ease, just a little. Surrounded by his parents, everything felt... right.

Almost.

Lydia wasn’t here.

*

With a belly full of wings and the sting of his and his dad’s team’s defeat, Jack sat on his bed upstairs, staring at his phone. Tomorrow, he’d head to Rob’s place so his parents would think he was going to ‘handyman school,’ but tonight, he was staying in his own room. No matter how comfortable Rob's sofa was, it couldn’t compare to his bed.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He lay back, the familiar weight of his VR helmet beside him. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of his phone screen as he read Lydia’s message again. The reasons she had broken up with him hadn’t changed. He still had nothing to prove that he was thinking about their future. He was barely scraping by enough money to cover cheap rent. How could he take care of a wife?

His thoughts shifted to his parents downstairs, how they believed he was making something of himself. Every time his dad talked about vocational school, a pang of guilt hit Jack. How long until they found out he wasn’t attending any classes and was pouring all his time into gaming?

After a few long moments, he put the phone away. He wouldn’t reply. Lydia had left him no room to. He’d just accept her kind words and leave it at that.

Jack turned his attention to the VR helmet. He picked it up, running his fingers along the sleek surface before slipping it on. The soft padding cushioned his head—it felt good, comforting even.

The helmet hummed to life, glowing softly as Jack settled back. Time to return to the game.

He logged back in right where he had left off, still sitting on Snowy. The giant sloth seemed unaware that Jack had ever left. He smiled, patting her neck. It was good to see her. The bees buzzed around him, happy as ever, welcoming him back.

That made him wonder… Did Snowy just vanish from existence when he logged out? If so, how did the [Homing] skill work? Couldn’t his mount take him places while he was gone? Maybe she entered some sort of stasis, like a paused program. But what about his bees? What happened to them when he wasn’t around?

The thought nagged at him as Snowy blinked her massive eyes and the bees fluttered off, indifferent to the deeper mechanics of their own existence. Jack imagined Snowy wandering off into the jungle and the bees visiting flower after flower, all living their own lives while he was in the real world. What did game animals do when no one was watching?

Whatever the case, Jack grabbed two tufts of Snowy’s fur and urged her toward the gate.

He needed materials to craft a pot hive for Beeatrice. After talking with Horace, he’d decided to make a few extra pot hives to sell on the auction site. Selling parts of the bugkeeper set had earned him over 300 credits. If he also could sell pot hives or ocarinas, he might make enough to cover his bills.

As Snowy marched through the city, Jack noticed a few passersby giving him nods of respect—or maybe envy. After spending so long getting cold looks in his moss suit, earning some respect again felt good.

The scent of baked bread and roasting meats filled the air as they neared the food market, tempting him to stop at the food stalls. He ignored the urge, reminding himself he wasn’t going far. Besides, the chicken wings from earlier had satisfied his cravings.

Seeing players standing in line at the gate with no one mounted, Jack decided to follow suit. He dismounted, curious to see what would happen.

"Unsummon," he commanded. Snowy disappeared in a puff of smoke, like a magic trick. For all the game’s realism, this still felt like a flaw. But Jack didn’t mind—at least he didn’t have to stable her. A new icon appeared in his field of vision. Focusing on it, he said, "Summon," and Snowy reappeared in another puff of smoke, ready to go.

Satisfied, Jack dismissed her again and joined the line at the gate. It moved quickly, and this time, no guards called out to him.

Outside the city walls, the air was crisp, and the forest stretched out before him, dense and humming with life. Once outside, Jack summoned Snowy again. The gentle giant marched toward the tree line, eager to forage.

"Hey, hey, big girl," Jack called, catching her before she wandered off. "We’ll go that way, but take me along, okay?" He climbed back on her, and Snowy grunted softly, walking toward the nearest tree.

When they reached it, Jack dismounted, letting her eat while he searched for crafting materials. He gathered sticks, looking for ones straight enough for his pot hives. After collecting ten full stacks, he started gathering flowers and other ingredients. Snowy’s large inventory space was a huge help.

As she lumbered along, occasionally stopping to munch on foliage, Jack found himself appreciating her calm, unhurried pace. It balanced the frantic pace of the game perfectly.

Suddenly, Snowy sprang to life, standing on her hind legs to slash at the bark of a tree with her massive claws. She peeled the bark off and munched happily. Jack watched in awe as she bent the tree to get at its leaves. The speed at which she devoured the tree was unbelievable for such a slow creature.

Despite the feast, her satiation only went up by ten. Snowy would need at least ten trees to fill her stomach. Jack chuckled. "Gonna need a whole forest just for you, huh?"

He picked up some grass, remembering how much she liked munching on straw back at the tent. It seemed wise to stock up in case they were far from the jungle.

Her affection rose by three as her satiation increased. Every time Jack summoned her, her satiation dropped a bit, and riding her made it fall even faster. Now, though, foraging was helping her levels recover.

A rustling in the bushes caught his attention—a porky emerged. Jack froze. Even though he was ten levels higher, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. In his crafting gear, he was defenseless.

But the moment the porky spotted Snowy, it retreated, running off into the brush. Snowy didn’t even react, focused on her meal. Jack grinned. Snowy was even better than a fire at keeping low-level threats at bay.

By the time Jack had filled his inventory, Snowy’s affection had reached 22, and her satiation was at 80. Satisfied, Jack hopped back onto her and hurried toward the city.

The durability of some of his gathered items had already started to degrade, but they were still worth selling. The marketplace calculated his haul—half a gold. Not bad for a short foraging trip.

At the market, Jack restocked his crafting materials. He typed "clay" into the search bar, scrolling through listings for stoneware, earthenware, and porcelain. He paused, frowning—he hadn’t tried using porcelain yet.

Earthenware had been his introduction to pottery. It was easy to access, simple to work with, and forgiving when it came to getting decent crafting grades, as it didn’t rely heavily on his attributes. The downside? Its products were low-value, with limited durability.

Stoneware, on the other hand, was his go-to whenever he crafted at the Pottery Association. It demanded higher agility for better grades but rewarded him with exceptional durability. It did require a proper kiln, though—both his Pot Hive and Ocarina had been made with it.

But porcelain? What was its deal? Jack had seen elegant porcelain tea sets displayed in the glass cases at the Pottery Association, but he had no firsthand experience. Was it tricky to work with? What about its properties—would it enhance the items he made or complicate the process?

Curiosity piqued, he bought five stacks. Maybe porcelain would boost the sales value of his crafted goods. Riding Snowy toward the Pottery Association, excitement bubbled inside him. It was time to experiment and, hopefully, make a profit both in-game and in the real world.