Felicity slipped into her blouse and buttoned it, then pulled on curve-hugging leather. In real life, Felicia’s wages leaned toward the lower end, but she had disposable income inside Viarem. Her gold turned into costume pieces. Always.

Currency between the virtual world and the real world translated poorly. Felicity splurged on things she couldn’t afford in Viarem.

She pushed the inn’s window open and let the breeze air the room. She set her elbows against the windowsill and propped her chin up with lazy hands, and with a sigh, gazed longingly at the fireflies.

Celestial Hills was a rural village with high elven roots. Tucked right in in the middle of nowhere, it boasted a grand NPC population of 112, and was known for their potatoes. Despite the increase in tourists and their utter disrespect toward nature, nature itself had yet to forsake the villagers that worked hard to live there. The trees and lakes proved to be natural protection against monsters, the terrain deceptively serene. Treants woke when Celestial Hills was threatened, and likewise, the lakes’ denizens surfaced. The forest slumbered for many years now, and the lakes stayed undisturbed.

Danger wasn’t a worry to the average citizen.

Danger wasn’t a worry to most of Viarem, actually. A large number of players chose never to see or fight a monster in their life, preferring to stay on a safer continent free from harm. Those were the ones that brought great leaps to humanity’s progress.

A firefly landed on Felicity’s nose. She crossed her eyes and poked at it when the itching became too much. It flickered with a green light, then flew away to rejoin the light show passing through.

It was night. Without the fireflies, Celestial Hills was blanketed in complete darkness beside the occasional lit candle. It was away from the din of man. Felicity stretched her legs and made a little noise in the back of throat. Stretching felt good.

She practiced yoga in her free time. Daily, Felicity took out her yoga mat and worked on herself. A day had not gone by without her exercise. As a bonus, sex was more fun. Flexibility had its perks.

The wooden grandfather clock ticked methodically. It was almost two hours past midnight in Viarem. She had time to spare.

Virtual reality worked as an alternative to sleep, giving equal amounts of rest for more time conscious, at least in the mind. Many still enjoyed sleep. Sometimes the mind needed rest. Sleeping while sleeping, it was truly the future.

The average human slept for twenty-five years of their life. Viarem returned that time, and the real world entered a new age with its introduction. Viarem was played by most first world countries that could afford the technology. Real-time language translations occurred instantly. Many took the time to follow dreams once believed to be impossible.

Felicity didn’t. She used it for nights of drunken debauchery.

She slid into bed and under the sheets, sidling next to some guy whose name she forgot. He stirred, and then yawned, draping a strong arm around her waist. “Hey, you,” she said.

“You’re dressed,” he said.

“I was leaving soon.”

The human skillfully began unbuttoning her blouse with one hand.

Felicity nibbled at his neck and left a mark. Right, she thought. She had time to spare before the job. The lack of herpes was nice, too. Viarem was like abstinence for dummies, except not.

An hour later, the elf zoomed out the door half-dressed in her armored leather, glancing at the clock one last time before muttering about deadlines. She was late. Felicity slowed, stopping by a swing attached to a thick tree branch. She made a face, then sat down and rifled through her bag.

A dark green potion was in her lap. She uncorked it and turned her nose away. Felicity pinched her nostrils and downed the liquid mucous, then wiped her mouth in disgust, sticking her tongue out. Blood pumped to her legs, and she felt faster, stronger, and more alert. Felicity then found another potion, a small magenta flask. She grimaced and emptied the bottle. Her irises lit up, going from its natural green to a neon hue not unlike the fireflies around her, and her pupils dilated.

The darkness became like daylight.

Felicity was not a dark elf. She didn’t have natural night vision. God forbid something turned her into a vampire. Suntanning was possible even in virtual reality, and she wasn’t prepared to give that up.

She sighed. Alchemy was amazing, but left a bad taste in her mouth.

Swinging off her seat, Felicity sprinted out of Celestial Hills without difficulty, passing no one. Her next job prospect was waiting. Cartiga seemed reliable enough, and told her they were paying well. She promised herself she’d make it for the clothes.

The campfire burned her eyes. Felicity shirked away and swore. For the cloak and dagger vibe, making her come dead at night, the contact missed classes in Subtlety 101.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Her night eyes glowed bright in the dark. It had minutes to spare, and the clock continued ticking. Night eye was useful, but in dangerous situations it became a headache. Shoving a finger down her throat to rid herself of the effect came to mind, but waved it off. It was a habit no one should pick up.

Felicity plucked out a pair of tinted goggles and adjusted them over her face. “I look like an idiot,” she said. “Like people wearing sunglasses indoors.” But she relented. Duty called. She announced her presence and walked toward the campfire, and took strides to avoid direct eye contact with the dancing flames. They were wild and impossible to contain, much like an animal grasping for life at its final moment. “Hello?”

A twig snapped. “You’re late.”

Felicity yelped, and hopped to the balls of her feet. She almost drew her dagger until the man revealed himself behind the trees. Felicity straightened her back and coughed. “I’m here now.”

The burly man grunted, and dropped a stack of wood by the camp. He wore flannel and had a beanie over his head. A gray beard covered the lower half of his face, but nothing could hide the pockmarks on his cheeks. He swung his ax off his shoulder and laid it on the ground beside him. “Sit.” Then he motioned to the felled log near the fire. It was an order, not a suggestion.

The lumberjack stared her down with dark, beady eyes. Felicity’s skin crawled.

“You the scout?” he asked. His voice reminded her of chain smokers — low, rough, and scary.

“Yes,” she said. Normally Felicity introduced herself to clients with her name and a handshake, but she felt compelled not to in this situation. She was a people person, and some weren’t. Jack there was in the latter camp.

He shuffled through a filthy bag and palmed something, then threw it over to Felicity. It landed by her boots. “Payment for information,” the man said. “More to come.”

“What kind?” Felicity left the clinking pouch where it landed, though her eyes lingered on it.

“Players. Raiders. Politicians on the continent over. The little gopher living in your front lawn.” He paused. “Everyone that’s anyone.”

“That may be difficult,” she said carefully. “Obscure info on those across the virtual sea is tough enough. The top raiders alone change by the week. It’s impossible.”

“Not at once. Payment in regular installations.”

She had already decided to bow out. Felicity was the type to avoid walking under ladders, or avoid cracks on the sidewalk. If she saw a black cat down an alley, she checked over her shoulder and strolled to the opposite side of the street.

Her friends called her superstitious. She called it safety. Bad vibes filled her with dread with the lumberjack sitting across from her.

“I think this job is beyond my ability.”

He jutted his chin at the pouch. The lumberjack tapped his foot on the ground patiently, crunching dry, dead leaves.

Felicity gaped at the coins. Her eyes glazed over and were the color of old dollar bills. Night eye’s effect had run out. She took off her goggles and inspected a single coin with the campfire’s light.

“They’re real,” he said.

Felicity knew. She had an eye for money.

After a long and difficult moment, she dropped the coin back in with a clink. “I’m sorry, I can’t take the job.” Felicity tightened the string around the pouch and sealed it, then tossed it over to the man.

The woman was many things: greedy, selfish, and possibly neurotic if her therapist had a say. But she refused to fight against her gut instincts. The elf stuck with her decisions regardless of the outcome. It was her rule in life. Regret lasted a lifetime and the next.

“Are you certain?” he asked. “Coin is hard to come by these days.”

Felicity knew he was referring to raids.

It started some weeks ago, with player killers targeting raids and devastating raiders spawn points. First, it was considered a fluke, but it happened again and again. The mystery killers grew bolder, and began interrupting groups mid-raid, attacking while players were on the boss.

Raids had become impossible, and progress in the top echelon of Viarem halted.

“I spend a lot,” Felicity said, “but not beyond my means.”

“Smart, but unfortunate. For both of us.”

“Again, I must decline.” Felicity threw a branch into the fire and rekindled the dying flames gasping for life, then got to her feet.

Jack shrugged. The fire bled into his pupils and reflected a demon back at her if she had a say. Her friends weren’t completely wrong. Felicity was superstitious to an extent. “Be seeing you,” he said.

Felicity hoped that would not be the case.

She left, and the fire cackled once more.

Felicity the Untouchable

Level 71 High Elf Scout

Reputation 3401