"Most people don't pay that much attention. And the ones who do usually keep quiet—either because they don't care or because they want to use the connection for clout." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Which one are you?"
"Neither. I don't care about politics, and I'm not looking for favors."
"Good." Yuki relaxed slightly. "Then we can talk honestly. Your class—it's unique, isn't it? Not just rare, but actually unique."
Max had prepared for this. He had spent the train ride rehearsing his explanation. "Yeah. It's called Soulbinder—you probably saw that in my tag. The class lets me form contracts with entities."
"Like Summoner?"
"Similar, but different. Summoners actively summon their contract. Soulbinders, however, do not." Max pulled out his phone and showed her a screenshot of his skill tree. "When I form a contract, I share abilities with the contracted entity. The wolf, the wisp, whatever I choose."
"Okay, but that still doesn't explain the combat logs." Yuki pulled out her own phone, swiping through data. "During the boss fight, there were damage instances that didn't match any of your visible abilities. Not your sword strikes, not any skills I could identify. And the timing was too precise to be environmental or random buffs."
Max had known she had caught this. Time for the lie he prepared.
"The contract sharing..." Max said carefully. "I gain abilities from my contracted entity, but the effect seems to be amplified for me specifically. Like... doubled."
"Doubled how?"
"When I contracted with the wolf spirit—Lunar Guardian—I got some of its abilities. But apparently, the bond also created a kind of... hidden effect. Some of my attacks trigger twice, almost like a phantom strike. It's not consistent, maybe 20-30% of the time, but it adds significant DPS."
Yuki's eyes widened. "That's insane. A passive double-strike buff?"
"Seems like it. I think it's tied to the Voidborn race I picked." Max was bullshitting now, but it sounded plausible. "The wolf guardian is basically a manifestation of lunar energy, and my character's void nature creates this weird resonance with it."
"Have you tested this with other players? Seen if anyone else gets the same effect?"
"I checked the forums. Nobody's mentioned anything like it, but the class is rare—less than 2,000 players out of billions. Could be I'm the only one who picked both Voidborn race and Soulbinder class and made a contract with that specific spirit type."
Yuki leaned back, processing this. The movement made her sweater shift, and Max tried not to notice how it emphasized her figure. "So you've got a unique build path that gives you essentially double damage potential on a percentage of your attacks, and nobody else knows about it."
"Basically, yeah."
"That's incredible." She smiled, and it transformed her face from beautiful to radiant. "No wonder you've been leveling so fast. You're not just skilled—you've got hidden mechanics working for you."
Max felt a twinge of guilt at the deception. The truth was so much more complex—the Shadow Echo wasn't just a damage buff, it was a fully loyal combat partner that only he could see, and it wasn't even the same entity he had just described. But revealing that felt too dangerous, even to someone he was starting to trust.
"Are you going to tell anyone?" Max asked.
"Are you kidding? This is exactly the kind of edge that wins races." Yuki's expression turned serious. "Look, I'm not just playing for fun. My guild—Phoenix—we're competitive. Currently we are the third most powerful guild in the entire world. I want players with unique advantages on my team."
"You're recruiting me?"
"I'm asking you to consider it. You're level 9, solo, and you're keeping pace with organized groups. Imagine what you could do with dedicated healers, tanks, and coordinated strategies."
She leaned forward. "We could push endgame content first, get world-first achievements, secure rare loot. And you'd get a share of any RMT profits."
"Real money trading?"
"Phoenix has corporate sponsorship. We're one of the few guilds with official backing—tech companies want to advertise through us, use our streams for marketing. It's all above board, and it pays." Yuki named a figure that made Max's eyes widen. "That's the monthly salary for core raiders. More if we hit achievement bonuses."
Max's mind raced. 8000 dollars. That kind of money would solve his immediate problems—rent, food, proving to his mother that gaming could be a career. But it would also mean revealing more of his abilities, coordinating with people he didn't know, and potentially losing the independent flexibility he valued.
"I need to think about it," Max said.
"Fair." Yuki didn't push. "Take your time. The offer stands whenever you're ready." She sipped her latte, her eyes studying him over the rim of her cup. "So, aside from exploiting broken game mechanics, what do you do in the real world?"
"Freelance web design. Pays enough to survive while I figure things out."
"And Aetheria is your big shot?"
"Three-month trial run. My mom gave me that long to make it work, or I promised I would look for stable employment."
"Your mom sounds practical."
"She's a nurse. She has seen enough people chase unrealistic dreams." Max paused. "What about you? Does your family know you're gaming this much?"
"Oh, they know," Yuki said with a dry laugh. "You won't believe it—my father plays as well. Yeah, the finance minister himself. He spends hours on this game after work, raiding dungeons like he's still in college or something. Sometimes I even catch him sneaking in a session before meetings."
She shook her head, amused. "He's totally fine with me playing. Says it helps him 'understand the new generation of tech-savvy citizens,' or whatever nonsense excuse he uses to justify it."
Her tone softened, then soured again. "But my mother? She's the real problem. Always nagging, always on my case about 'building real relationships' and 'maintaining appearances.' Every time she sees me online, it's another lecture about how I'm wasting my time instead of networking with the 'right people.'"
"Sounds stressful."
"You have no idea." Yuki's expression softened. "That's why Aetheria is important to me. It's the one place where I'm just Velara—a player who's good at what she does. No expectations, no political calculations, just skill and strategy."
Max understood that feeling more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah. I get it."