“Stupid kit!” I shouted as soon as I materialized on the market pza of the vilge. My voice echoed across the cobblestone square, drawing the stares of elven NPd pyers alike. Their expressied from bemused to mildly ed, as though they were watg a drunkard stumble through the street. I wasn’t drunk—just furious.

  “At Katherine!” I hissed, throwing my hands in the air. “Why… Why ’t she listen to me just once?”

  My frustration boiled over as I paced the pza, muttering under my breath. How many times had I serategies? Detailed pns to avoid getting PKed or tips for snaggier equipment. She never followed them. Never. All that mattered to her was tent. That was a king—or queen—or whatever. Whatever.

  I opened my interface, scrolling through my friend list to see who was ohe s flickered into view before me, dispying the familiar names.

  And… not a pleasant sight.

  [Your friend Lucas is offline.][Your friend Lisa is offline.][Your friend Ry4n1 is offline.][Your friend Tramar is offline.]

  I sighed, my frustration morphing into fatigued resignation. Midnight or not, this is Rimelion’s early days! How could no one be ohis was the game everyone escaped from our reality, yet I stood alone in the middle of the square, gring at a s that didn’t care.

  Sorry, you care, I know.

  “Talking to a blue-s,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. My gaze shifted around the pza until I found a nearby bench.

  Architect desig from a smooth stos edges full of faintly glowing ruhat hummed with magic. I ran my hand along the seat as I sat down, feeling the gentle warmth radiating from the ented words. ouch, Uncle.

  He ’t be my real uncle, he?

  I leaned back, letting my eyes wander over the market. In a few weeks, maybe less, Irwen would crawl her way through here, quering everything in her path and turning it into her property.

  Well, she thinks it was always her kingdom; I guess. Future Charlie’s problem, I told myself.

  Right now, there was still a sliver of hope that Kit—Katherih her shiny new prestige css—could win. She always loved proving people wrong.

  A bard pyed softly he fountain, grinding the skill, the melody spreading in the cool night air, over the quiet chatter of pyers haggling with vendors, trying to sell wolf’s pelts for pittance. Overhead, twin moons shone, invitio sleep.

  I waited, watg the ings and goings of the crowd.

  Pyers in mismatched armor, their ons glowing very faintly with entments, darted between stalls, showing off their new acquisitions. A trio of elves in emerald robes paused by a pyer’s potion stand, fellow alchemist, and they exged vials of shimmering liquid.

  After a while, I opehe friend list again, though I already knew what to expect.

  [Your friend Katherine is offline.]I let out another long sigh, my shoulders slumping uhe weight of disappoi. Of course, she’s offline. Kit could never win. Not this time. Not without backup or a miracle. Draw at best.

  Maybe it’s time to call it a night.

  Log out for a few hours, clear my head, and try agaihe thought of the real world didly appeal, but sitting here, stewing in frustration, wasn’t helpiher.

  I gnced back at the glowing fountain, the casg water catg the light of the moons. Its steady flow seemed to mock me with its ess. How could anyoe… Yeah, alright. Tomorrow’s a new day, I thought, standing and brushing off my revealing robe.

  As I woke up from the capsule, a sharp pain hit me low in my abdomen, beaming outward in waves. At first, I thought it was just the lingering disorientation from the immersion, but no. This was different—intense and real, a twisting ache that pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.

  What the hell?

  I winced, gripping my stomastinctively as I sat up, my body still half-entangled in the capsule’s interior.

  The pain wasn’t sharp, like a cut, or blunt, like a bruise. It was deeper—this dull, throbbing pressure that ed and knotted in my belly. Worse, it brought with it a strange heaviness, making every movement feel like I was dragging an invisible weight.

  “What the hell…” I muttered groggily, swinging my legs over the edge of the capsule.

  “Wele back, Miss Charlie,” came Tin-’s annoyingly chipper voice.

  “Argh!” I growled, frustration bubbling up. “Not now!”

  And then I noticed the wetness.

  At first, it was subtle—a damp, unfortable sensation that made me freeze, my mind scrambling for an expnation. I reached down instinctively, my fingers brushing against something warm and sticky. Pulling my hand back, I stared at the smear of red on my fiips.

  Blood.

  The realization hit like an Italian with a stool. My heart raced, panid fusion swirling in my mind.

  Am I injured? Did something happen in the capsule?

  But the pain wasn’t sharp enough for a wound, and the bleeding didn’t feel like it was from a cut or scrape. It felt… internal.

  And then, like a slowly dripping faucet, the memories started trig in—half-fotten biology lessons, vague aes overheard from Luo. It ’t be.

  “Miss Charlie, what you are experieng is a biological rea,” Tin- said in that infuriatingly monotone voice.

  “Holy Nathan, Tin-, I know what a period is!” I yelled, gring at the stupid capsule. “Shut up, I’m a mess!”

  “I uand, Miss Charlie,” it tinued, unbothered by my outburst. “Online sources suggest that during—”

  “Shut up!” I snapped, cutting it off. “Just stop talking, okay? Not. Helping!”

  Of course, I had nothing at home to help with this. Why would I? So, the first thing I did was to hit the shower. As the water cascaded over me, it felt like heaven—pure, blissful relief. Hah, is that frozen ke a heaven for the Ice-Blood God followers? The thought made me chuckle despite myself.

  Feeling and somewhat human again, I went to hunt for something presentable to wear.

  Wait… I left it all in bags, didn’t I?

  I groaned and facepalmed as I dragged myself to the pile of ed shopping bags. Digging through them, I finally pulled out a cute white short dress with rose-gold ats. The dress had a soft, flowing design, with ce trim at the hem and… some embroidery on the bodice that looked just… right. Damn, I o learn more about clothes. Just to describe them.

  It felt airy, perfect for a day that needed a bit htness...

  I gnced out the window at the night shrouding the streets and grinned. Perfect for a night that needed light, I corrected myself. So, where does a girl like me go to get what she needs?

  The pub, of course.

  I grabbed the bag Katherine suggested and stuffed things like keys or a holo-phone inside.

  Without hesitation, I reached for the high heels Katherine had insisted I buy.

  Wait.

  Why did I go with her suggestions?! ht—her smile. That damn radiant grin could vinyone. Shaking off the thought, I slipped them on and headed out.

  Thankfully, I lived close to the pub—a very scious choiy part. Lucy would always grumble about being afraid to walk alo night.

  Me? I wasn’t.

  Well, not until now. The quiet streets had their own charm, with faint pools of golden light from the old-fashioreetmps breaking up the shadows. They still used these old things, city had to cut somewhere to have that new City Hall, right?

  The crisp night air carried a faint st of rain, though the cobblestones beh my feet were dry.

  Walking on cobblestones with heels? Not ideal. The worst part wasn’t the walk; it was fighting with myself—more specifically, the cramps. Every step was a battle, no less heroic than sying the demon lord.

  Soon I finally burst through the wooden doors of Patrick’s bar.

  Warm light and the faint hum of versatioed me. As always, the stale air smelled of old wood, whiskey, and something smoky, like the remnants of a fire. Probably the Italians again.

  The familiar creak of the floorboards beh my high heels felt oddly f as I made a beeline for the toilets, nodding quickly at Patrick as I passed.

  “Wele back, Charlie!” Patrick called out with a grin, showing off his yellowed teeth.

  “Be right back. Make it a strong one. Rocks, please,” I shot over my shoulder before disappearing into the restroom.

  Inside, even hts buzzed faintly, showing the worn tiles that told stories of years of patrons passing through.

  I hurried to secure what I needed—and to my surprise, there it was.

  Loot! And free!

  God bless Patrick for always thinking ahead. With my new dition under trol, I took a moment thten my hair and dress in the mirror auro the bar.

  Patrick had already prepared my drink, sliding it onto the ter at my usual spot. “Here you go, John,” he said casually, the gss glinting uhe one bright bulb.

  “Thanks. Been one of those days,” I replied without thinking, taking a long gulp. The whiskey burned in the best way, half the gss gone in a heartbeat.

  Then his words registered. “Wait! Patrick? How?” I bli him, setting the gss down slowly. My voice rose, fusion clouding my thoughts. “How… how did you…”

  Patrick leaned back with a knowing grin, his expression as casual as if we were discussing the weather. “I k when you first came in. Still checked the age, of course—but you’re still you, no matter how you look.” He o himself, as if firming some unspoken truth. “When you were drunk, you used to tell me stories about wanting to be…” His finger jabbed vaguely in the dire of my chest. “A girl. Now that you are, tell me—what’s ged?”

  I paused, swirling the whiskey in my gss as I thought about his question. What had really ged? Was I ag differently?

  Not really.

  Was I doing things I wouldn’t have done before? Sure, I was a bit more impulsive, moodier, but aside from that?

  Not really.

  “Nothing,” I said finally, the word rolling out as smoothly as the burn of the whiskey.

  Patrick’s grin widened, like I’d just handed him a spear of destiny. “Told you, d,” he said, his toriumphant, as though he’d been waiting years for this moment. “People, at their core, are who they are. Trying to be someone else is… unnatural.”

  “Patrick, don’t,” I said, shaking my head aing the gss down with a soft k. We’d had discussions like this before, and we always nded on opposite sides. Very different sides. “Just another on ice, please.”

  He chuckled, already reag for the bottle. “Right away… ssie.” The faint emphasis o word carried a teasing tone, but his grin was warm as he poured.

  I sighed, gng around the bar while he worked.

  The dim amber light cast long shadows across the polished wood, and the quiet murmur of versation hummed in the background. A dartboard hung crookedly on one wall, its edges riddled with stray holes, and a couple of Italians were hunched ame of cards in the er.

  When Patrick slid the drink across the ter, I took it with a nod, letting the cool gss rest against my palm for a moment. The chill seeped into my skin, groundihe world is right again.

  Or so I thought.

  Of course, it was in that moment of peace that my phone buzzed sharply. I groaned, already feeling the edges of my irritation fre as I fished it out of my handbag.

  Lucas.

  What happened now? Sold his soul? Made another dumb bet? Both? With Lucas at this hour, it could be anything—and none of it good.

  Resigned, I swiped to answer. His face popped up on the holo-dispy, projected in a soft light above the phone. As disheveled as ever, Lucas’s hair stuck out in chaotic dires—same mess I’d spent forever trying to tame earlier today. He isn’t trying! Typical.

  “Charlie, I’m in trouble,” he said, his voice frantic. “ you e?”