“You can’t be serious.”

“What’s up?” Em asked, wiping black blood from her broadsword.

“My ranking on the event leaderboard dropped again,” Arc moaned, “Apeiron overtook me for the fourth time.”

“By dropped, you mean dropped to second place?”

“Yeah…”

“Shut the hell up.” Em smacked the back of his head. “We know, we know, you’re a god at the game and at wasting money on it, but you don’t have to rub it in.”

Arc raised his eyebrows, turning to look at her smirking face. “Aren’t you third place?”

“Yeah? So what?”

“Sure. So what.” Arc grinned, closing the ranking popup. The pair stood in a windy meadow, flowing grass nibbling at their legs. Poppies dotted the field and a ruby petal or two occasionally blew past their faces. A blue sky watched overhead, filled with streaks of faraway clouds blotching the azure stratosphere. Hanging low, crowds of white birds flew past their crowns and cruised with the breeze.

Hidden within the long grass were sylph imps, a common monster. Despite that, they dropped shockingly high amounts of experience due to one simple fact: they were extremely hard to hit, almost excessively so. Using the fluttering grass as cover, the imps could manipulate the wind, dodging around hostile players with ease. Casual players likely wouldn’t even get a look at these sylph imps, much less hunting them for experience.

But that wasn’t really a concern for top players like Arc and Em, who used their high-experience drops for grinding levels. And luckily for them, the most recent event quest also required sylph imp drops.

“Hm. How many imp eyes did you gather?” Arc scrolled through his inventory.

Em paused, opening up her own inventory and tapping around for a moment. “I got 132. You?”

“156.”

They both sighed simultaneously.

“That’s not even close to five hundred.” Arc groaned in dismay. “How much longer do we have to grind for?”

“Probably a few more days. To think that the event would be something so annoyingly mundane…” Em made a face. “It’s as if they’re trying to scare away casuals.”

“And at this rate, Apeiron’ll stay in the lead. Again.” Arc ran his hand through the front of his hair, looking towards Em with a sarcastic laugh. “Y’know, I gotta get someone to poison him, or something.”

“As if that’ll help. Come on, admit it, you’ve lost.” Em chuckled. “Plus, you’re friends with the guy, right?” She sheathed her sword, lowering herself down onto the soft grass. Arc joined her.

“Well, he’s nice, so that’s a plus. But…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down silently.

“But?” Em laughed loudly. “If you actually need poison, I’ve got a guy.”

He glanced up, mirth filling his expression. “For real? Then I’ll leave it to you, madame.”

“Oh, shut up.” She slapped the back of his head again. “Yeah, but there’s an NPC in Arkhe City. Apparently, if you finish his quest, he’ll give you one of the strongest poisons in the game. It’s also super broken, since the quest is easy as hell, and the reward is OP.”

Arc leaned closer, clearly interested. “For real? What’s the quest?”

“Something about helping him to kill the prince. Literally, at some point, a ton of new players were doing his quest and just kept abusing the poisons he gave. You didn’t know?” Em looked towards Arc, eyebrows raised.

“No, I didn’t… does the prince just keep dying, then?” He asked.

“Nahh. He could never kill the prince. That’s why it was so broken… he kept on trying, over and over and over again, but never succeeded. He couldn’t ever.”

Arc paused, turning his eyes towards the ground. “How… sad.”

Em scoffed. “As if. How else would quests work? Only one player can complete it? Plus, it’s just some game mechanic. You really are too soft, huh?” She patted his head, the word “patronizing” almost dripping from her every move. Arc slapped her hand away, grinning.

“Whatever. What’s the NPC’s name again?”

“Ooh? Interested in the poison, are we?” Em laughed, looking towards the sky. Her dark hair blew softly around her face, cascading in sync with the pale grass.

“His name? It was—”

—

“Cian.”

A soft voice spoke into his ear. “Cian?”

Arc groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and covering his eyes. He slowly opened them and was nearly blinded by the sunlight. An unfamiliar wooden roof greeted him, and a thin window allowed the sun to dig into his eyes. “Wh—” He squinted, looking over to his side. His mother leaned over him, clearly concerned.

“Cian?” She sighed, relieved. “You finally woke up.”

“What—” His voice came out with a slight rasp.

“Shh, don’t waste your energy. You collapsed in the middle of the street.” His mom patted his shoulder. “Get some rest.”

“Where are we?” Arc blinked with furrowed brows, confused as he glanced around the foreign surroundings.

“I brought you to the store. It was the closest, and plus, we had medicine here… I just gave you some basic wort. It should help you feel better.” She stood up, brushing her apron off. Arc also sat up and looked around. It really was the store— he could see the counter through a doorway— and he was sitting in a wooden cot in the back room. It wasn’t spacious, especially not with the massive shelves that lined the walls, densely populated with tomes. The weight of the pages bent the shelves at a slight bow, and many of the books had clearly been around for a while.

“I didn’t know we had this place.”

“You didn’t? You used to wait here as a kid when there were a lot of customers.”

Arc nearly covered his mouth as he realized his mistake. Luckily, he held it in, and managed to stammer out a reply.

“I… I guess I forgot.”

His mom turned away, heading towards the front counter. “Your memory has been bad recently, huh?”

It has? Fuck yeah! “Yeah! Yeah. I don’t remember a lot of things nowadays… ”

“So you should drink some ginkgo biloba tonic. It’s good for memory. I’ll brew some up for you right now.”

Arc froze. The word ‘ginkgo biloba’ triggered some kind of memory in Cian, and he had a sudden flashback to a bitter taste that would cause even a pig to retch. “Uhh, actually, it’s fine—”

“No, no. You used to love it as a kid.”

Sure. Arc made a face. “Actually, I’ve gotta go somewhere right now.”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“Really?” His mother turned away from the mortar she was pouring leaves into. “Where to, so suddenly?”

“Uhhhhtss— some order I got yesterday. New shipment of herbs, you know.”

His mother narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Alright. You’d better come back with a crate of something fresh, or you’re drinking three extra bowls of this.”

“‘Course! Yep, yep! I’ll just be going now, the shipment is supposed to arrive soon…” He grabbed his jacket and flew out the door.

Arc stepped into the street and jogged away hurriedly. He finally reached an open square filled with people and lined with colorful stalls. A large fountain quietly gurgled in the center, and crowds of players and NPCs alike wandered about.

Where to? I should—

A bout of dizziness overtook Arc’s mind, and he gasped for a second, leaning over slightly as his vision grew neon. God, what’s going on? Arc staggered over to the rim of the fountain, settling his body onto its edge as he steadied himself. Voices pierced his sensitive ears, dialogues discordantly phasing in and out in a jarring symphony. He inhaled heavily, the buzzing sensation in his temples ebbing away. As he stared down at the paved stones, he focused his mind on the present moment to try and ease the nausea.

“—aturday is the prince’s first-year memorial service.” A cutting voice sliced through Arc’s train of thought. “The imperial army’s putting on a whole show this year. We’re gathering materials for the service, and they need a lot of flowers. Do you think you could bring me one hundred bouquets of forget-me-not flowers? Here’s a tip: they can be found on the eastern plain.”

Arc’s head shot up. His shaky voice came out, involuntarily; “forget-me-nots..?”

He stood up, trembling. No— Cian stood up, trembling.

Cian stumbled towards the NPC who had spoken. He pushed past the player and grabbed the collar of the character, who began to struggle.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” The NPC began to shout. “Cease yourself!”

Cian’s eyes were fierce, filled with fury and desperation and a touch of tears. “Forget-me-nots? Did the King tell you to collect those?”

“Cease yourself! Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” He kept on struggling underneath Cian’s hands. “Cease your—”

A dry laugh came from Cian’s tight throat. He dropped the NPC and turned away, staggering through the streets.

A poster fluttered in front of his eyes— pale hair the color of dayflowers, glimmering eyes that sparkled like topaz, a pristine white suit gilded in gold, shining boots coated in sepia dust. A kick to the legs, another to the solar plexus.

“If you’re not even going to take this seriously, don’t even bother.”

“Don’t even bother.”

Don’t even—

He crushed the poster under his foot.

Arc wandered around aimlessly. However, subconsciously, Cian's feet led him through the streets. They led him through a winding system of grimy alleys, finally depositing his weary figure before a decrepit stone building. Before he could stop himself, he opened the door and entered.

The pungent smell of smoke is what hit him first. Second, a faint murmuring between raspy voices. The voices paused as they heard him enter, and grey fog danced before Arc’s eyes.

He waved it by, then suddenly froze.

What… what am I doing here?

A laugh broke the silence. “Hahahat! What are you doing here?” A gruff voice came from the dim back of the room. “So you finally brought it?”

Arc squinted through the haze, noting a group of people sitting in a ring in the back. There was one figure seated behind them— the leader. He couldn’t see any of their faces, but could feel their gazes on his body.

“Eh?” Arc heard the screech of a chair sliding across the floor, and heavy footsteps approached. Through the smoke, a stout man emerged. His face was misshapen, bent, almost beaten in every manner. Sparse stubble populated his chin and neck, and a pair of mismatched eyes peered at Arc’s shocked expression. A rank odor emanated from his short body, and Arc frowned at it. “So do you have it?”

“I-it?” Arc internally bit a handkerchief, wailing in his mind. Goddamnit Cian! Why do you have to keep dragging me into things?!? “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Shit!” The man screamed, his voice cracking. He took a swig from a rusty metal flask, burping loudly before continuing. “You don’t have it? Then what’re you here for?! You!” He took another swig, then pointed at Arc with a shaky hand. “You… ba— bastard!”

The man’s voice was so high pitched, so desperate but also so childish that it was nearly comical. He drank some more and looked like he wanted to speak again, but before he could, a voice pierced through the haze.

“Who are you?” It was as sharp as diamond, so frigid it nearly made Arc shiver. It left an aftertaste that chilled him to his bone.

The room fell silent. Arc opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of anything to say.

“Hey, boss~ don’t worry about this guy. He’s just some rando.” A girl’s coquettish voice sang out. “He’s just here to deliver the poisons. Right?”

Arc gasped inaudibly. That voice, that accent— it was the brown-haired female player from yesterday, the one who had given him the note. “Yeah. Right, I was going to deliver the poisons. Here they…”

Ah. Shit. I don’t have any poison on me, much less the one they want. “Uhh, about that…” He paused. “…could I get some kind of, uh, ex-extension?” Arc squeezed his eyes shut, holding his trembling fists tight. Please work please work please work—

A cold sigh was heard. Arc opened his eyes a tiny bit and saw the silhouette of the leader waving his hand lightly.

“S-so… okay?”

“You get one day.” The leader spoke again, every word dripping with glacial nonchalance.

“You know what happens if you don’t get it in by then, right?” The girl giggled, her accent especially thick as she exclaimed excitedly, “You die. So chop chop, get a move on.”

“Of course.” Arc was able to calm himself down. Breathe. This is a game, this is a game, this is a game… “I’ll be sure to bring it, b—” he hesitated. “Boss.”

“That’s right. Go on now.” He saw the girl’s figure gesturing for him to leave. The short man from before also glared at him with a squinted eye, and Arc nodded towards him as he excused himself.

As soon as the door slammed shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. “What the fuck?”

It kept on happening over and over again— random moments, random things that Cian would drag him into. It was all happening too fast for him. He hurried home, not forgetting to purchase a bushel of moly to give to his mother. Holding the basket in hand, he collected his thoughts.

He opened the apothecary door. “Mom! I’m back.”

She stood at the counter, talking with an elderly man. Hearing his voice, she glanced up and grinned. “Yes, sorry, my son is here— Cian, you were gone a while.”

“Yeah. The, uh, merchant boat took a while.” He placed the basket onto the counter.

“Moly is native to the forests around Arkhe. They wouldn’t arrive by boat, sweetie.” His mother smiled gently. “Now, I won’t ask what you were doing, but stay safe, alright?”

Arc felt a twinge of pain in his heart. “...yeah. I will.” He went into the back room and closed the door behind him. He searched for his bag and found it hung on the coat rack. Inside was the diary, and opening it to a new page, Arc pulled out a thin pencil he’d grabbed from the counter.

Now, what exactly is going on?

He began to scribble out notes.

Cian - ???

* Good with medicines and poisons?

* Great mom.

* Scars on body?

* Wanted to be an imperial knight.

* Hates the prince, but the prince is dead? (Why does he hate forget-me-not’s so much?)

* Part of some crazy organization.

* “Fallback.”

Arc underlined the last word several times. It felt important, even if he didn’t know why.

To-do list:

* Make poisons for the organization (look at Cian’s list)

* Figure out what’s going on…

Arc stopped for a second. He skipped to another line and began to write.

What is this place?

Oneiro: I used to play the game. Everything is the same, it is the same city and looks the same and seems the same.

Does that mean that I can meet Em?

He scratched out the last sentence.

Known timeline: I died (hit by a truck, damnit), and then woke up here as Cian. Why did I get sent here when I died? Reincarnation?

If it’s reincarnation, where’s my goddamn hare

Arc cleared his throat before he could finish writing the word.

Nevermind.

I need to find out why I got sent here, and whether these are actual players or just stimulated. Can I come in contact with real people from real life?

Tomorrow: Make the poison, search for Em + Abbrv, get myself out of trouble, find out more about Cian.

He pressed the pencil to his lip in thought. “What if…”

What if I knew Cian when I had played Oneiro? Or had met him as an NPC?

Arc racked his mind and drew a blank. Cian, Cian, Cian… Nothing popped up. Just as he was about to abandon that train of thought, a blurry memory surfaced. A meadow filled with carmine poppies, a casual conversation with Em, a baby-blue sky.

His eyes widened.

“No way.” Arc gripped the pencil with a shaking hand and wrote down a name. When he finished the last letter, his hand pushed down with so much force that the lead snapped. The broken tip rolled off the page and into the cracks in the wooden floorboards. On the page were written two words—

Cian Hyland.

“The Poisoner.”