In the quiet, Vannin felt the tension in his shoulders slowly loosen, and his clenched fists soon followed suit. He expected the hurt caused by Justin’s insults to linger, expected to carry that brief interaction with him throughout the rest of the day, a thorn in his thoughts that stubbornly refused extraction, but as his anger subsided and the heat in his chest began to dissipate, Vannin realized that, despite the initial discomfort, that unexpected and unwanted wave of emotional turmoil had been the most invigorating feeling he’d experienced in months. Now that it was gone, he almost wanted to chase after those three jerks just to pick a fight, one he had no real reason to start, one he knew could have no winner. A million different insults and negative remarks flooded his sensation-starved brain, and his thoughts were soon lost to an imaginary conflict where everything he said somehow managed to inflict massive amounts of psychic damage on his victims, damage that somehow bypassed the PVP protections in place around and within Lemond’s Crossing to cut his targets down where they stood.

His heart raced once more. Heat blossomed again in his chest. His eyes widened, and the corners of his lips began to curl up in a rueful grin.

“Master?” D said quietly, sinking into view. Even though the little glowing orb had no real features other than light, Vannin could practically feel his digital friend peering at him with a mixture of confusion and concern.

His grin morphed into an awkward smile. “What is it?”

“I was just going to remind you to eat something. Your Hunger is getting dangerously high.”

“Oh, right.”

Vannin loosened the mouth of his pack and shoved a hand inside, feeling around for one of the many morsels of [Stale Bread] he knew was inside. Hopeful players were always trying on new professions in order to figure out where they might want to spend their time, energy, and cor, so cheap food was easy to come by. [Stale Bread] happened to be one of the earliest practice recipes, so people were always trying to get rid of their excess. And while many claimed its taste was similar to dusty cardboard, Vannin found it adequately handled his Hunger without adversely affecting his money pouch.

He only wished he didn’t have to eat so much of it to stay sated.

Norik extended both index fingers, touched their tips together in front of him, and drew an invisible horizontal line in the air. Planting his hands on his hips, he took a step back and scrutinized the emptiness before him. “Damnit!” he shouted, stomping a foot. “I was THIS CLOSE to clearing my experience debt, and now I’ve got another one! I didn’t even know you could GET an experience debt from dying in town.”

“That’s actually kind of impressive.” Atrea nodded appreciatively as she gathered up the [Small Stone] Justin’s boot had scattered throughout the clover. “How’d you pull that off? Drown yourself in Memoria Fountain? Get caught stealing? Or maybe you snuck into the inner sanctum of the Temple of Visias and threw yourself into the city’s Hearthflame?”

“First of all,” he began, emphatically waving a finger, “it’s ‘sneaked’. ‘Snuck’ isn’t a word. And second of all, you CAN’T sneak into the inner sanctum of the temple. There’s too many guards and the priests are VICIOUS. They will beat you to death with a flaming candlestick before you get ten steps from the Hearthflame.”

“Speaking from experience, are we?”

Norik ignored her. “And thirdly, if you were paying attention and knew ANYTHING about this game, then you wouldn’t even have to ask. The method of my death would have been SUPER obvious.”

With his smug, knowing smile, Vannin thought the man look like a cartoon character. He could tell the skinny Heem had made every attempt to be stylish, but his whole ensemble came across as trying too hard. His billowing white shirt and high-cuffed boots would have been right at home on the deck of some merchant vessel but wasn’t exactly appropriate high-altitude attire. Beard stubble covered his chin and cheeks, purposeful in its length and placement to give the illusion of roguishness.

He squinted, summoning up the man’s nameplate. Norik Florrik. Who picks a name that rhymes?

When Atrea didn’t play along, Norik huffed.

“You fell.”

The other two looked over at Vannin. Atrea tilted her head. “Come again?”

“He fell, and from a pretty tall place.” He squinted up at the tip of the Eternal Crystal, looming nearly three stories overhead. “When you die here, the game… I don’t know. It remembers your death. How you died. I woke up face down in the clover because I died face down in the dirt.”

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Atrea straightened, arms overloaded with [Small Stone]. “You’re joking.”

Vannin shook his head. “That Justin guy said something about a clock tower? He must have meant the old library off Highton Square. What’s it called?”

“Ival’Bochord.” The puffed shirt fop shook a fist at the sky. “My current and most pressing great white whale.”

“No, I said a library, not a wh-”

“Hold on,” Atrea interrupted. “You mean to tell me that this...this…”

“Norik,” he said, bowing.

“...this goofball fell off a clock tower and died, so when he respawned, the game…”

Vannin nodded, shooting the other man a barbed look. “Dropped him right on top of me.”

‘That’s not on me! You should know better than to linger near an Eternal Crystal! It can randomly spit out all sorts of weirdos!”

He wanted to blame the man for breaking his armor, but Justin had been right. His gear was in serious need of repair. Weeks of abuse had left most of it on the verge of breaking, and despite having more than enough cor to restore their Durability to full, his obsession with the [Swine’s Esse] had distracted him for too long, and his chest piece had paid the price.

A bit of good luck deserves a turn of bad, I guess. He could feel that rare bit of loot burning a hole in his pack and was eager to set up a meeting with Edacity.

Crossing her legs beneath her, Atrea sank to the ground, back to where she was first sitting when Vannin arrived. This time, instead of a pyramid, she arranged the [Small Stone] in a loose circle, almost like she was marking something. “Weird game design. Sounds more like a bug than a feature.”

“It’s QUIRKY.” said Norik, snatching a [Small Stone] from her pile.

“Hey, give that back.”

“And how have you never noticed these things?” He balanced the [Small Stone] on top of his head. “Been hiding under one of your rock piles?”

Sbe shrugged. “I was probably too busy not falling off clock towers.”

Norik opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find a good comeback.

“Master!” D interjected, and Norik nearly jumped out of his skin. “You’re moments away from Starving. You have to eat!”

“Gah!” Norik looked around frantically. “What in Pamblen’s throbbing-”

“Gross!” barked the Minos, chucking a [Small Stone] in the man’s direction. “Don’t you dare complete that phrase.”

Despite knowing full-well that nothing Atrea did to him this close to town could hurt him, Norik shielded his face reflexively. “Hey, come on! I can’t be the only one that heard that.”

“Sorry,” said Vannin, rooting around in his pack for a bit of food, but finding only loot. The Minos watched him, her head tilting more and more with every passing second. “That’s just my daimon. It doesn’t really understand volume control.”

“Oo.” Norik gave a low whistle. “Fancy. How come I can’t see it?”

Vannin shrugged. “I didn’t even know you could hear it until today.”

“Daimon aren’t visible to other players until their owner names it.” Atrea said, matter of fact. She gestured toward the burlap sack hanging at Vannin’s side, the sack that purportedly contained food but seemed intent on hiding it from him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find-Aha!” He pulled out a curled hunk of hardened crust and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. The fragile bread practically disintegrated between his teeth. He looked up at D and swallowed. “Better?”

The little lightball dimmed. “Not really, no.”

Vannin sighed. He wished he had a way to see his own accumulated Hunger without having to rely on his daimon.

Rubbing her hands together in anticipation, Atrea settled in before her circle of stones. “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’m waiting for a friend to log in, and I owe them no less than my undivided attention when they do.”

Norik’s face lit up. “Hey, I still need some help with the clock tower. Maybe the four of us can get togeth-”

She held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Thank you, but no. I don’t party up, and she’s not that kind of friend.”

“Just fifteen minutes, that’s all I need! I only have about two weeks left before-” He suddenly stiffened. With an annoyed growl, he rolled his eyes. “HOLD ON.”

His avatar straightened completely, adopting the rigid stance of a console player with no one at the helm. Even his eyes froze, staring straight ahead without blinking.

Vannin waved a hand in front of the man’s face. No reaction.

“Don’t bother. That’s what happens when a VR player takes off their headset.”

He poked him in the cheek. “You can do that?” he whispered.

“Wow. You really are a permanent resident, huh?” Shaking her head, Atrea chuckled, but even focused as he was, Vannin could tell there was little mirth in her laughter. “You should take off before he gets back. You’re too nice to say no.”

His stomach rumbled again, and he could feel the weight of D’s stare on the back of his head. She was right, and he had more important things to attend to than to help some stranger climb a clock. Regardless of his reasons.

With an awkward wave, he trudged up the stone steps and headed for town.