Chapter 1: Mocupokko-Reccu Rub’Me

The air conditioner fixed in my room embraced my almost-naked body as I walked out of a freezing, cold shower. It was set to fifty-five-degree Fahrenheit -- a balance I found to be the most efficient between living in a cold climate and not getting my butt kicked out by the landlord. Pushing and weaving through the land mines of empty cans of sodas and trash bags littering the ground had me on my tippy-toes. Soreness wasn’t a big deal, especially when I factor in the pain of stepping on one of these little devils.

The officer chair creaked a little bit once my body heaved itself onto it. Spinning the chair around, I assumed the best relaxing positon possible: knees at the base of the chair and my entire upper body slouching over the backrest of the chair. Sticking my butt out and leaning forward, I carefully balance and situated myself by shifting the weight of my lower body.

With the air conditioner breezing at my naked back, there’s only one thing I have to say: this is pure bliss.

My flip-phone sitting on a black-painted wooden desk vibrated. Unlike Tickie, it only occurred once. Anastasia was the sender this time, and with a big, formal block of text at 11:06 P.M.:

“Hey, Mit-Han-Rou! This is Anastasia here, so be sure to save my number!

I’m glad you’ve accepted my offer, but oh boy, the hours spent on finalizing all of the paperwork was really time consuming! These kinds of stuff are needed to protect both parties legally and validate their interactions, so I’m happy we’ve got that done with.

Welcome to the team! : D

The game will launch at midnight tonight -- an hour from this message -- and please be careful to not game too long; take a break every now and then!

Your account and in-game avatar had been created and personalized by yours truly! Because this is part of work, physical customization and home selection has already been chosen for you by my team and the game department. Your account had to be created pre-launch so we can link it to our database under special criterions and permissions. But your experience to other players will very much be the same, mostly; you’ll start at level one, earn experience points, level up, accept quests, increase stat-points, etc.

Really, the only difference is that you’ll serve as a pivotal device to add immersion and flavor to the world and other people’s experience. There’s really no strict rules on how to run a dungeon, nor are there any demands made by C.R.U.; don’t worry too much about what you should or shouldn’t do.

So, show me the paradisiacal dream you talked about three years ago!

I’ve also created a personal assistant -- all by myself on my own time -- to aid in your dungeon. I won’t spoil too much, but I will say this: She’ll help you out, so be patient with her. Treat her like a person. I’ve poured a gigantic amount of time into her, in both character design and game system, so I’m really eager to see how she grows as a person!

Anyways, have fun! Let’s meet again sometimes.

P.S: I’ll drop off some more paperwork I need you to fill out, in the near future. It’s like the second form of a boss fight, so be on the lookout! : S”

Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork!

At this point I can’t even think. Signing all of the tax forms and the non-disclosure agreement was just mind-numbingly boring. The last few hours were spent on discussing the terms of our contract and the legality of those terms. Being out of study for so long, I needed her help in understanding many of the things I read. The difficulty of business and law language slowed the process to a snail-pace. Anastasia came fully prepared to inform me of the job’s description and to get my signature on the spot.

It was a horrendous day to go outside… but I’m happy I did it.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. The digital clock on my desktop wouldn’t budge, despite how hard I stared at it. Entering given credentials into the login-screen of the main website redirected me to a pop-up window with my name on it. The text ‘Successfully linked to the full-feedback diving-casket version 1.0’ appeared, highlighted with a green border. My in-game avatar sat underneath the border, in its cutesy-chibi sixteen-bit form. Below my avatar was a statistical table containing information of my in-game stats.

ID: Mit-Han-Rou

Class: Peasant

Title: Dungeon Master

STR

1

HP

50/50

Level

1

INT

1

MP

1/1

next LEV

20

WIS

1

CON

1

EXP

0

A.EXP

0

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Ascension

0

DEX

1

GOLD

0

GP

0

next Ac.

0

STR, INT, WIS, CON, DEX traditionally refers to strength, intelligence, wisdom, constitution, and dexterity, respectively. Health points, mana points, the experience box, and the gold box were intuitive enough. What had me puzzled were the A. EXP, GP, Ascension, and next Ac. boxes. I turned my attention to the forums in hopes of discovering its meaning.

It was 11:36 P.M. and the forums were blowing up! Every time I clicked onto the next page of a post, a few more pages were created! The response time of the webpage increased as the seconds went by; it took longer to load a page as midnight awaits us. The net’s infamous hug-of-death had descended onto the main website’s forum, but that’s not enough to stop me. I’m well-equipped with multiple spare mouse to unleash a thousand clicks onto the refresh button!

Dedicated posts speculating the game’s feature and system’s mechanics were well-written like they were writing a thesis for their Ph.D. Not much concrete information about the game’s underlying bodywork had been release, but that didn’t stop fans from dissecting reviews and teaser trailers. Frames from trailers and reviews were screenshotted and used as a frame-of-reference to speculate the game’s mechanics and system dynamic. Taking note of time discrepancy netizens figured out skills and spells cost-usage seen in trailers and reviews.

Speculations on classes ran wild, especially now when everyone’s trying to find a class they want to begin with. All the game’s website told us was a vague and general description of what we could become, not what there is available. The Sherlocks of our time analyzed videos of the released trailers and reviews, and came to the conclusion that there were five main classes: Wizard, Priest, Warrior, Monk, and Rogue. However, this Sherlock met an adversary -- a James Moriarty -- that attacked his points, saying that videos of a person wielding a sword doesn’t mean that they’re a ‘warrior’; or that people using spells are a ‘wizard.’

Both offered compelling and sound arguments shot-after-shot; one based on traditional MMORPGs systems, and the other based on the lack of information presently available.

My phone vibrated once more, and then multiple times thereafter. Expectedly, it was none other than Tickie.

I don’t have unlimited text messages and calls, asshole.

Compiling all the messages once my phone rested led to ‘I can’t play tonight! My dumb fiancé wants to spend time together with her parents before they leave the state. HELP ME. HELLLLLLLP!’

Smiling at his predicament, I sent a text that read, ‘Tell her you have an emergency to handle tonight. Come over to my place, I’ll let you use my diving-casket. We can switch every now and then.’

Minutes pass as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

Another wave of assailants had my phone whimpering.

Tickie, in a sad and reluctant tone, sent me another message: "I can’t. She dragged me into the car and now she’s mad. This is not consensual. NOT. CONSENSUAL. I’m looking at her now. I can see it in her eyes. She"

The sudden cut-off had me oddly agitated.

She…?

The clock hit 11:54 P.M., and I haven’t heard from Tickie since then.

She… what? Tickie, TELL ME! SHE WHAT?!

Unable to hold my laughter, I sent him one last text that wished him the best of luck.

Meeting Anastasia today, acquiring a new job, and reading Tickie’s cry for help made this evening unforgettable. I’d never thought my life could be so… exhilarating. It’s still odd for me to think that my life -- at the age of twenty-two -- could actually be fun, and not miserable.

Climbing into the six-feet-long and four-feet-wide diving-casket, I situated myself comfortably -- a smile crept upon my face as I felt the air conditioner’s magic wrapping around my half-naked body. Weight sensors in the diving-casket automatically closed the opening from where I climbed in. A crescent-shaped apparatus of the machine ran from head-to-toe, shining an infrared beam. A helmet attached to many wires descended from a hole and onto my head. This device was most likely the culprit responsible for electroencephalography, a function of the full-feedback diving-casket (FFDC) technology that contributes to in-game sensory feedback.

I lowered the curtains on my eyes and calmed my mind.

It’s time to live my second life.

A very brief blink had me in a stupor. Butterflies in my tummy had my body feeling light. Opening my eyes, I finally understood the meaning of photo-realism. The environment around me was unbelievably picture-perfect. Lushes, swaying green grasses encapsulated the land I’m on. Blue sky and scarce clouds made the chilling breeze ever-so-welcome. Large, green forestry flanked the roads that connected to the giant circular land of stone I’m on. Blue beams of light softly illuminated from the cracks and crevices of the circular land.

In front of me was a giant apparatus with four rings, not interlink, floating on top of a five-feet-high crystal pillar. The outermost ring spun diagonally, the third ring spun horizontally, the second ring spun vertically, and the inner-ring spun sporadically in all direction. And at the center of all of those rings was a concentration of blue, spectral energy, dormant. Traces of lingering orbs around it suggested that it was recently active.

The only other being here, next to me, was an overtly sexualize compilation of data -- a bodacious petite of similar height facing away from me. Looking to my right was a perfectly sculpted person that won the genetic lottery.

Even at this angle I could already tell this was Anastasia’s magnum opus.

Long, straight hair dyed in an ink-black color to further bring out her pristine, smooth skin to a spotlight. Small section of braided hair near her right ear had excesses tucked behind it, bringing the ear to more attraction. She tilted her head sideways and looked back at me. Those set of silver eyes and dark, thick eyelashes complimented her sculpted nose with small, parted lips teasing a set of pearl teeth.

“Huh?” A quiet sound escaped her mouth as she noticed me.

Leather light-brown trench coat in hand, she turned her body to me in a daring outfit. A pair of opaque white thigh-highs ran up to her white-and-black plaid mini-skirt. A small, provocative section of bare skin was left untouched between the two. Finishing her apparel was a crisp and clean white dress shirt with her sleeves rolled up -- unbuttoned at the top to reveal her yearning collarbone and enough exposure to hint at her breasts.

“You are...” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, easy to be confused with a sexual gaze.

I’m not at all surprise if this is the person Anastasia designated to meet me. Other than loving the hell out of mental cognition, her second favorite thing in life is sex. Or, rather, she has an unbelievable devotion to depict her characters in sexually evocative illustrations.

“Call me Mit-Han-Rou.” I looked around the area for some sort of mirror, or any source of reflection to look at my face. “Your name?”

“Mocupokko-Reccu Rub’Me” She answered in all seriousness and courteously bowed.

I turned away and cupped my mouth, but the surging laughter broke through my fragile defense.

Anastasia had been heavily inspired by anime aesthetics, and so she adopted a lot of its culture. Though, to think my dungeon assistant has such a ridiculous name made it all the more difficult to take this seriously. She mentioned that this creation was separate of her team’s work, and it really shows. I'd expect nothing less from one of the best illustrators in our world.

“Do you think that’s funny?” She wore her trench coat over her dress shirt, then brought her hands up. Fists were formed with glaring eyes aimed at me. “Goddess Anastasia said she’d send someone to help me defend this place. But even then, I refuse to allow you to laugh at my divine name bestowed upon by The Perfect One.”

Kill me. Now.

I fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Burst of laughter came in waves that dominated my body. Trying to breathe only let out more sounds that made her frown maddening. Letting my body go full-loose, I rolled on the ground in a fit of laughter.

A goddess?

Seriously, Anastasia, there’s no one in the world that would even dare to challenge your ego.

Mocupokko-Reccu Rub’Me towered over me, fists clenched, and a pair of black and leather ankle boots on the brink of destruction. Parted lips revealed her clenched teeth that struggled to restrains its wrath. Even through the uncontrollable squint in my eyes I could see how terrible the trouble I’m causing her.

I reached out a hand in need of saving.

She gripped my hand with a force of a mountain and tugged me upward. Kicking my shin with her black boots overrode my joyous moments. In place of it was an aching pain that had me back on the ground, clutching my shins in desperate need to dial 9-1-1.

“Ah~” I blew a stomach-full of air through my clenched teeth. “I needed that. Sorry. Really sorry.”

“Goddess Anastasia did warn me about you…” She crossed her arms and turned a shoulder to me. “It wasn’t all your fault.”

“Can I call you Reccu?” I reached out an apologetic hand, although it was moot because the distance grew larger as she walked away from me.

“Sure.” She tilted her head back with parted lips, yet the odd angle formed an astonishingly priceless picture.