Thursday, August 28th, 2042, Home of the Porter family, Maywood Park, Oregon

As the door closed behind Chloe, Ryan finally let himself relax and breathe. The reporter had been sharp and dangerous. He would need to be careful when dealing with her during the interview.

Lucia squeezed his shoulder gently, interrupting his train of thought. “I’ll go clean around the rig downstairs.”

“Thanks, Lu.”

His sister climbed downstairs, flipped the basement lights on, and disappeared around the corner.

Ryan’s stomach grumbled.

Oh, right, I haven’t had breakfast yet…

Back home, His rig back ensured he never really needed to stop and have a proper meal. The device monitored his body, providing exactly the nutrients it needed. But stress and anxiety were getting to him. He had just walked twenty minutes to get here, and his body begged him to take a moment to sit down and have something to eat.

So it was probably finally time to reheat his mom’s arroz con pollo. The meal had made the trip back and forth between here and his basement apartment. Now it was time to feast.

Except to do that, Ryan would have to pass by Sarah and Eduardo, who were blocking the way to the dining room. His father was as hard to read as ever. He had his arms crossed and was squinting his eyes. He seemed to inspect him with an unusually invasive intensity which left him feeling exposed.

His mother looked worried. She had one hand covering her mouth, and she kept looking him up and down, her eyes searching for something he could not identify. “Mijo…”

He almost slipped into his Kaelyn act, the practiced confidence, the effortless charm—but the idea felt hollow here, in front of his mother’s searching eyes. Here, in his childhood kitchen, there was no character he could hide behind, only himself—raw, exposed, and still trying to make sense of what was happening. “Yes, mom?”

He dreaded what she might ask him, but there was just no way he could avoid answering her questions while he was in her house.

“You’ve grown your hair out, haven’t you?” Sarah’s eyes lingered on him, her gaze tracing over his face with a hint of confusion. “And… I don’t know, you look different, mijo. Have you lost weight?” Her tone was casual, but her eyes held a glimmer of concern.

“Ah… Yes, I guess I have.” He scratched an itch at the top of his head, rediscovering the exact spot he had found earlier. He forced himself to stop scratching and pointed at his belt. “And you’re right, I lost weight—I actually could fasten it one hole further than usual today!”

Sarah’s reaction told Ryan such simple answers would not satiate her for too long. But she let it slide for now. “Are you going to be alright? Dealing with the reporter?”

Thankfully, his mother dropped the subject of his appearance and focused on her concerns about his upcoming interview. If he were a betting man, he would have put money on her drilling with questions for far longer than this.

There are far better ways to earn riches than gambling, chico.

But he wondered how to answer her question. How could he show his mother he was going to be fine? He decided playing it like it was no big deal was probably his best option. “No problems, mom. She doesn’t want to talk with me, after all. I can just hop on the VR machine, and put up an act, be the character they all want me to play, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

It was accurate enough, was it not? He could play Kaelyn for the camera, keep it all on the surface, and everyone would get what they wanted. He did not have to go any deeper; no one else needed to know what playing Kaelyn really felt like… even if, sometimes, he was not sure himself.

The best lies are wrapped in layers of truths.

Kaelyn had told him that yesterday—it was one of the first lessons on how to con people. He hoped her advice would work here. As long as everything he said was technically true, his mother would not catch him in the middle of a lie.

His mother squinted at him. “But mijo, the person they want to speak to—Kaelyn. Who is she? Why does it involve you?”

He winced.

Ah yeah, the problem when trying to talk to non-gamers about game things. How do I explain roleplaying?

He gently squeezed his way past his parents into the kitchen. He felt his father’s gaze lock onto his back. Ryan was sweating, although he tried to play it cool. Since his father had seen him just yesterday, maybe he also noticed the longer hair? He had not really looked up at his head, though. Just at his eyes, really. Maybe his father was just worried, in his own stoic way?

His father’s gaze was heavy, like a stone he could not shake off, settling on his shoulders and making his stomach twist. His dad was not exactly worrying, Ryan realised—it felt like judgment, silent but unwavering.

“I’m starving. Maybe I can explain while I eat?”

He took the plastic container and emptied it into a microwave-safe plate and set it to one minute fifty.

He hesitated, debating how to approach the topic. “You remember the console dad used to play, when I was five years old, yeah?”

She nodded slowly, looking at her husband. “It’s still downstairs, is it not?”

Eduardo nodded as well without turning to look at her. He shifted uncomfortably to another foot.

“Right, so, for years now, games haven’t allowed you to make your own characters. It’s because of... Virtual reality restrictions? Lu knows more about the why—it’s complicated, but not important.”

The microwave beep interrupted him. Ryan opened it and pulled the plate out, quickly setting it in front of himself. It smelled delicious, as usual.

Too bad it’s microwaved, but it’ll do!

“Anyway, so this new game that came out yesterday? It lets you do that again. Some new company solved the technical problems.”

He forced down a bite of rice, which felt like it was burning all the way down. He loved his mother’s cooking, but somehow, it tasted off today. It was too hot and the fiery explosion of flavours mirrored the turmoil in his gut.

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Why is everything feeling so off? The sun’s too hot, the shade too cold. Toothpaste too minty, the blankets too comfortable.

It annoyed him how even his favourite food did not feel the way it should. Why were all his senses messed up today?

His mother’s eyes lingered on him, and he felt the question coming before she spoke it. Her expression softened, and for a moment, he wished he had worn something other than this grey tee and loose jeans that did not quite fit anymore.

He saw the confusion in her face, the way she was trying to piece him together from scraps of old memories and the unfamiliar way he looked now. “Okay? But why a girl, mijo?”

Seeing his mother worry always threw him. It was as if she could see straight through his practiced confidence, to the parts he was not ready to face himself. He blushed, but thankfully, he could blame it on the hot food he had just stuffed in his mouth.

Chewing bought him just enough time to think of a good explanation. “Ah… no reason, really. It sounded fun, I guess?”

The words felt heavy on his tongue as he spoke them, each syllable a painful reminder of the unspoken truth.

He glanced at his mother, the warmth in her worried eyes, and almost said it—almost admitted how maybe there was something more. But what was his real reason? Yesterday, he had convinced himself it was simply to experience what it was like to wield power like Megan’s. Would his mother understand that angle? And was it really the reason he had created her?

Could he admit to the truth? The truth he had not realised until after he had created her? The way young Kaelyn had made him feel how he envied the way his mother treated Lucia? How he longed for that same warmth both she and Kaelyn’s mothers had shown to their daughters, but not their son?

He swallowed the ball of emotions forming in his chest together with a forkful of onion and saffron flavoured rice.

The rice, usually a comfort, burned his tongue and sat like a burning stone in his throat. He forced down another bite, the flavours a little too intense, a little too much, as if his own unease was somehow affecting his tastebuds.

Because his mother seemed unsatisfied with his answered, he continued. “Sometimes… people pick characters who differ from them.” He pondered the weight of his own words and glanced at his her face, gauging her reaction. “It’s like… stepping into someone else’s shoes. You get to see things from a new angle.”

Part of him wanted to add more. To admit, maybe he was still figuring out who he was and what he wanted? But he swallowed those words down, the same way he did everything else he was not ready to face.

For a moment, he let himself drift into Kaelyn’s memory—the warmth of her mother’s embrace, the softness in her voice, the faint scent of lavender as she held young Kaelyn close. It felt almost like a dream, something borrowed but precious, a glimpse into a world where others saw and loved him, without questions or judgment. And perhaps something he really wanted—had always wanted—but could never ask for.

He took another forkful of the arroz con pollo, letting the flavours settle on his tongue. Somehow, in the food’s warmth, he sensed a fragment of that same comfort. His mother may not have held him in a tight hug or whispered soothing words to quiet his anxieties, but there was love in the care she had put into this meal. He could feel it in the gentle spice, in the familiar taste he had grown up with. It was not an obligation—it was something more, something he had never noticed before, as if she had infused her affection into the food she made for him.

The thought surprised him, soft and unexpected, settling in his chest like an ember. He did not know why he suddenly understood it, or even if it was real, but for now, he cherished it. Had it taken living through Kaelyn’s past for him to realise he had been loved all along, in this world?

It almost feels like a sixth sense. Is that woman’s intuition?

He snickered to himself, feeling an odd comfort in the thought. And yet, somehow, he felt the stray idea might have some merit—like a quiet truth sneaking up on him, one he was not quite ready to face, but did not entirely want to push away either.

Lucia running up the stairs jolted Ryan from his reverie. She walked to the dining room and leaned against the frame of the passageway.

“Room’s all clear for you, hermana.”

As he realised how Lucia had just called him, a mouthful of rice went down the wrong way, causing Ryan to choke and violently cough, spitting out grains as he struggled to breathe. Lucia grinned, apparently pleased with herself at his reaction.

Sarah squinted in disapproval at Lucia, but approached her son and rubbed at his back. She said nothing, but her face was asking the obvious question: “What’s going on here?”

After Ryan’s coughing fit subsided, he grabbed some paper towels, wiping the table and his tear-streaked face.

After he was done, he looked at his little sister, deadpan. “Thanks, Lu.”

Ryan made sure his thanks were ambiguous. Was he thanking her for nearly killing him, for cleaning up the room, or perhaps a little of both?

She took a few steps in the kitchen, swaying her hips exaggeratedly as she did, and then imitated one of Kaelyn’s famous pose. “What’s up, Kaelyn? Cat got your tongue? You weren’t that shy yesterday when it was just the two of us in VR Chat!”

Ryan glared at her, and was about to say something, but Sarah beat him to the punch. She let go of Ryan’s back and gestured at his younger sister. “What’s this about, mija? Why all the strutting and posing?”

Lucia giggled. “Oh, that’s nothing! I’m just giving you all a re-enactment of how big sister looked like yesterday, is all.”

Ryan’s cheeks burned, and not from the hot food. He recognised what Lucia was doing here; she had protected him earlier from the interviewer—twice, in fact. So it might seem odd how she was embarrassing him now, in front of their parents.

But this teasing, playful yet cutting, was how Lucia expressed herself. She had never been one for gentle words or hugs; her way of showing she cared was to push and poke and prod. The fact she had not stopped yet just reinforced how worried and nervous she was about him right now.

Lucia placed one hand on her waist, swayed her hip, and ran her other hand along its curve. “Come on, bro, you were all smiles yesterday, looking at yourself in the mirror and showing off that killer bod. Where did all that confidence go?”

Ryan’s voice was barely audible as he mumbled under his breath, his head angled downwards as he continued to focus on his little rice pile. “It was all an act, sis…”

“Well, you better get back into your character soon. The reporter lady will interview Kaelyn before long. Hit me up if you need any practice beforehand. We could have papá and mamá act as judges.”

Lucia’s grin felt like half innocence, half malice. Ryan did not know which one was her true intent, but she certainly seemed adamant about embarrassing him in front of their parents.

His cheeks burned, a fiery red testament to his earlier embarrassment; he thought his face could not possibly get any hotter. But now he knew better. “I’ll be good, thanks, Lu.”

Her grin widened. “Ah, of course, silly me! You’re practically a natural at this!”

Sarah and Eduardo’s eyes darted between their two children, in a vain attempt to follow the sibling’s antics.

Ryan swallowed the last bite from the plate and took the empty dish into the kitchen sink, rinsing it quickly. “I... better go get ready. Wouldn’t want to keep Chloe waiting.”

Lucia slid up to him, poking him in the arm playfully. “Just channel that catgirl energy. You’ll be fine.”

He gave her a flat look, leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Thanks for the pep talk, hermenita. I will repay that favour someday.”

His little sister stepped back, giving him a mock salute with a smirk. “Counting on it.”

As he turned to go, his mother’s hand found his arm, holding him there for a moment. She looked at him, her gaze filled with something he could not quite decipher—worry, love, and maybe a hint of fear. “Take care, mijo,” she whispered, her hand lingering just a little longer than usual.

Eduardo’s gaze softened for a moment, and he looked like he was about to say something, his lips parting just slightly. But then he closed them again, giving Ryan a brief, silent nod, as if that was all he offered. For a moment, Ryan almost wished his father would say something—anything—but the silence settled between them like a wall.

He nodded to both of them and then turned to look at Lucia. “Try not to break too many more Kaelyn poses. I don’t need to be embarrassed anymore.”

She smiled. “No promises! Just go before you turn any redder.”

With a chuckle, Ryan rolled his eyes and made his way down the stairs, the echo of his family’s mixed laughter and curiosity lingering behind him.

Only Lucia could embarrass him this thoroughly and still make him feel like she was on his side, her loyalty hidden behind a smirk.

As he flipped the lights on downstairs, his thoughts drifted to Kaelyn. How strange it was to feel this dual pull—dread at the thought of being her in front of the cameras, and a thrill at the idea of slipping into her skin again, feeling that same effortless confidence. How much of it was an act, and how much of it… her? And him? The question hung heavy in the air, an icy dread creeping into his heart as he wondered if he could even tell anymore.