Max set his phone down and looked at his gaming setup. The NeuroSync headset sat on his desk, still warm from use. Three monitors displayed various forums and guides he had been researching.
This was his life now. At least for the next three months.
Max cleaned up the dishes, took a quick shower, and collapsed into bed. His body was exhausted, but his mind was racing with strategies and theories.
Tomorrow he would push to level 10, maybe explore new zones, continue the hidden questline. The game was vast, and he had barely scratched the surface.
But tonight, he needed sleep.
[DISCORD – Private Messages]
11:47 PM
A new message appeared in Max's DMs, though he was already asleep:
Velara: hey, real talk—your class is unique isnt it? like really unique. saw something in the combat logs from tonight that didnt make sense. we can talk about it or not, your call. but whatever you have, its cool. just wanted you to know im not gonna pry.
The message sat unread, waiting for morning.
**
Max woke to sunlight streaming through his curtains and the sound of his phone buzzing insistently. He groaned, reaching for it blindly, his body still heavy with sleep.
Seventeen Discord notifications.
He blinked the sleep from his eyes and scrolled through them. Most were from the global chat—people discussing builds, sharing screenshots, arguing about optimal farming routes. But one message made him pause.
Velara.
The message had been sent at 11:47 PM last night. Max stared at it, his mind racing.
She had noticed something in the combat logs. Of course she had—Velara was sharp, one of the better researchers in their community. She had probably analyzed the dungeon run frame by frame, looking for opportunities, and spotted inconsistencies in the damage output.
Max typed, deleted, typed again. How much should he reveal? How much could he trust her?
Finally, he settled on:
MaxThorne: You're right. My class has some unusual mechanics. Want to meet up IRL and talk about it? Might be easier than typing it all out.
The response came within seconds. She was online.
Velara: seriously? yeah im down. theres a cafe in shibuya, near the station. Café Artemis. know it?
MaxThorne: I can find it. When?
Velara: 1 PM? gives us both time to be functional humans
MaxThorne: works for me
Velara: cool. see you there
Max set his phone down, his heart beating faster than it should. Meeting online friends in person was always weird—there was a disconnect between the avatar you knew and the actual human behind it.
But it was necessary. Velara was too observant to brush off with vague explanations, and having her as an ally—someone who knew at least part of his secret—might be valuable.
He just had to be careful about what he revealed.
Shibuya Station, Tokyo – 12:50 PM
Max arrived early, navigating through the famous Shibuya crossing with thousands of other people. The area was as crowded as ever, but there was a strange new energy—nearly everyone was glued to their phones, probably checking Aetheria Online forums or coordinating with their guilds.
He spotted Café Artemis tucked between a clothing store and a ramen shop. It was a small, cozy place with large windows and modern décor—white walls, wooden tables, hanging plants. The kind of place that charged too much for coffee but provided good WiFi and comfortable seating.
Max entered, ordered a black coffee, and found a table near the back. He checked his phone: 12:53 PM.
The door opened at exactly 1:00 PM.
Max looked up—and nearly dropped his coffee.
The woman who walked in was stunning.
She was tall, maybe 5'8", with long white-blonde hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Her face was more than beautiful—angelic features, lips with a natural pink tint, and those same sharp gray eyes he recognized from her avatar, but somehow more intense in person.
She wore a simple but elegant outfit: a cream-colored turtleneck sweater that hugged her curves perfectly, the fabric clinging to her breasts—easily a D-cup—and emphasizing her narrow waist before the sweater ended just above her hips. Simple black jeans accentuated her wide hips and long legs, showing off an hourglass figure that would make anyone look twice.
A designer bag hung from her shoulder, and her ankle boots were clearly expensive leather.
She looked like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine.
But what made Max's stomach drop was the sudden recognition. He had seen that face before—not in person, but in news articles and social media.
Velara was Yuki Takahashi, daughter of Finance Minister Takahashi Kenji.
One of the most powerful political families in Japan.
She spotted him, smiled, and walked over with confident grace. "Max?"
"Uh, yeah," Max managed, standing awkwardly.
Up close, she was even more striking. He could see the subtle makeup that enhanced her already beautiful features—a light foundation that made her skin look flawless, mascara that made her gray eyes even more angelic, and a pink lipstick that drew attention to her lips. The way her sweater hugged her figure was impossible not to notice—the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.
"You look exactly like I imagined," Yuki said, sliding into the seat across from him. "Well, maybe a bit more tired."
"Three hours of sleep will do that," Max said, trying to regain his composure and not stare.
A waiter approached, and Yuki ordered a matcha latte. Once he left, she leaned back, crossing her legs, and studied Max with those sharp gray eyes.
"So," she said. "You figured out who I am."
"Hard not to. You're literally in the news every other week."
Yuki—Velara—rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. My father's been pushing for me to make more public appearances, especially with the election coming up next year. It's exhausting."
"Is that why you game? To escape?"
"Partially." She sipped her latte when it arrived. "Also because I'm genuinely good at it, and nobody in-game gives a shit about my last name. I'm just another player." She paused. "Well, usually. You're the first person from the Discord to connect the dots."
"Your avatar doesn't exactly hide it. White hair, same facial structure..."