Ye Qiu hovered over the Start button, his finger barely a breath away. But instead of clicking, he paused. His hand trembled slightly—just enough to betray the sudden rush of emotion that hit him.
It was supposed to be simple. Just another login. Just another game. But this game wasn't just any game. It was the game. The world he'd lived in for ten whole years. The world where he was Everstay.
Now, all he had left was the echo of that name, and a ghost of who he used to be.
He tried to shake it off. Letting go shouldn't be this hard, he thought bitterly. But hearing that name again… seeing this familiar screen… it hurts.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered—Maybe I should've listened to Somi.
But no. He had to do this. Even if it stung like hell.
Behind him, Chan Guo was busy resetting the gaming table. When Ye Qiu had stormed in earlier like some half-trained superhero, she'd jerked in surprise and knocked over a handful of gear—headsets, controllers, even a soda can that thankfully wasn't open. She sighed as she crouched to gather them, muttering something about "hyperactive employees" under her breath.
Then she noticed him—still frozen in front of the screen. She straightened slowly, a faint crease forming between her brows.
Of course, she realized. He's still not over it. Ten years… must've been his entire youth.
For once, Chan Guo didn't throw a sarcastic jab. Instead, she folded her arms and said softly, almost hesitantly,
"You wouldn't want my five years of sweat and tears to go to waste too, would you?"
Ye Qiu's eyes didn't move from the screen. His voice came out flat. "That's your problem."
The tone was so dry, so unapologetic, that it caught her off guard.
She blinked, scoffed in disbelief, then without a second taught, she reached forward and nudged his hand—hard enough to force his finger onto the Start button.
A click.
The game launched.
Ye Qiu turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"Did you just—?"
"And here I was feeling bad for you," she muttered with a sneer, rolling her eyes, "Tsk. So much for my soft side."
Ye Qiu stared at her for a long beat. Then turned back to the screen, fingers dancing across the keys with an ease that hadn't left him, no matter how much he'd tried to pretend otherwise.
Chan Guo tapped her mic and unmuted herself.
"Okay, I'm back, guys!" she chirped, as if she hadn't just ghosted them mid-game a few minutes ago.
"Are you for real right now, Channah?" came the sharp voice of Midnight, the leader of the team.
Her team consisted of four members so far: Midnight, Skull, Stormchaser, and PhantomX. They were one player short of the full five-member squad—and they were only tolerating her because they needed a fifth.
"You do realize we're doing you the favor here, right?" Midnight added with clear irritation.
"I know, right? Please forgive me, boss," Chan Guo replied in a sugary-sweet voice, twirling her mic cord with mock innocence. "I would never do anything to upset you."
Ye Qiu, seated beside her, glanced sideways with a deadpan expression. Even though he barely knew her, he could already tell—that was sarcasm. One hundred percent.
He sighed deeply and stared at the screen as he controlled her avatar in the game. The team's characters were standing in a circle mid-map, chatting amongst themselves. The environment looked oddly familiar, though Ye Qiu couldn't recall ever playing on this specific map. Still, his fingers moved on instinct, directing the avatar to start wandering off in a different direction.
Meanwhile, on the other end, Midnight let out a long breath.
"Just let it go this time," PhantomX offered, trying to ease the tension.
"Yeah, boss," added Stormchaser. "She'll mess up again eventually. Save the lecture for when it counts."
A chorus of amused chuckles filled the comms as Chan Guo rolled her eyes.
"Fine," Midnight relented. "Let's hop back in."
The team started preparing to move out.
"Where you at, Channah? Where's your avatar?" Skull asked, confusion in his tone as he noticed her Avater wasnt there.
"My avatar?" she echoed, eyes scanning the screen.
That was when she spotted Ye Qiu's character casually wandering away from the team circle. Her eyes snapped to him, throwing him a sharp 'what the hell?' look.
But Ye Qiu didn't flinch. He kept moving the character around like he didn't even notice her glare—although she knew damn well he did. He was ignoring her on purpose. She could see it in the smug little way he tilted his head, calmly exploring the game world.
'This place doesn't look familiar,' Ye Qiu thought, letting his avatar stroll past a mossy ruin. The environment didn't ring any bells. Of course, it wouldn't—he hadn't played this level in years.
Meanwhile, Chan Guo was half-listening to her team's growing questions through the headset.
"Channah? Hello? What's going on?"
"Uhh… Umm… Uh, yeah…" she fumbled, eyes still glued to what Ye Qiu was doing. What was he doing? He was poking around like this was his personal nostalgia tour.
Then he did it—he opened the menu.
And she snapped.
"Boy, what the hell!!" she yelled instinctively, forgetting she was still unmuted.
The team on the other end fell silent for a beat.
"...Did you just yell at me?" asked PhantomX, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Chan Guo blinked. Crap.
"No! I wasn't yelling at you!" she denied quickly, eyes wide, hands hovering over the controls like she could somehow rewind time.
An awkward silence hovered like a bad smell. Then Stormchaser chimed in suspiciously:
"Wait… is someone there with you?"
"No!" she said again, too quickly.
"So you really just yelled at me right now," PhantomX repeated, now clearly offended.
Chan Guo's eyes darted between the screen and Ye Qiu, who was clearly enjoying this. His lips curved into a barely-there smirk as he leaned slightly back, still in character, still ignoring her with perfect, silent disrespect.
He didn't even need to say anything—his face said it all.
"What's with your obsession with yelling?" she blurted, attempting to cover the awkwardness. "Aren't you used to how you talk by now?" She made her voice sound louder as thou thats how she normally talks.
She leaned casually on the desk, nudging Ye Qiu with her shoulder, hoping he'd play along. But Ye Qiu was failing miserably at keeping a straight face. His lips twitched as he bit back laughter.
He wasn't even paying attention to her cover-up anymore. His focus had shifted back to the screen. While she tried to salvage her dignity, he had quietly navigated to the in-game menu to check something: her level.
Level 23.
He blinked. That explained it.
No wonder this place looks unfamiliar, he thought. It's been years since I played this early in the game... Back then, he could've completed these kinds of missions with his eyes closed.
He leaned back slightly, hands still resting on the mouse and keyboard, and gave her a sideways glance.
"Level 23, huh?" he muttered under his breath, loud enough for only her to hear.
She shot him a look, eyes narrowing. "Don't judge me," she whispered. "Some of us had actual lives and jobs before becoming desperate."
"You call this desperate?"
"I call this survival," she said.