...

- o0o -

B-II

- o0o -

The hospital – he had always hated it. To him, rather than to be a place of comfort and healing, it was a place of sickness and despair; of death and of decay. It was a sterile environment; unfeeling and impersonal, yet ever-tainted with the emotions stemming from the highs and lows of the human existence.

There was hope in there – somewhere – but he had never been foolish enough to allow himself to be deceived by it and had only viewed it from afar, in those who either knew no better or did whatever they could to keep up appearances.

Admittedly, most made it – well, more or less, depending on what had been ailing them in the first place – but that same principle did not necessarily apply to all, and particularly not to those important to him.

Then again, in the case of Mana, there had only really been one possible outcome in the first place.

Allen had always hated the hospital and the false hopes the aforementioned institution had come to represent in his mind, but that in itself did not mean that it did not have its uses.

Thanks to the disapproving but understanding Doctor Murazaki, he had received a clear bill of health despite inconclusive results, and along with a falsified signature on his contract, the road to taking part of the Beta Deal lay open to him.

In the lobby of Ark Enterprisers, he had taken his time looking through the contract before signing it. Doing anything else would have been stupid after all; signing something without taking the time to study the fine print.

As things turned out, getting a clean bill beforehand had merely been a case of formality, as the contract itself had stated that any signee would themselves be held liable for any financial, mental or physical damage, whilst the company could not be held accountable or be prosecuted on any grounds by either signees or by their next of kin. In other words, if anyone did get injured whilst on the job, the company would not be held liable to pay any damages.

A truly comforting thought indeed… or not.

Either way, the contract had presented a slight problem in his case, seeing that a temporary guardian had yet to be assigned to stand in for Cross, and that he had at least officially needed some sort of parental consent to participate in this kind of…

"Is this seat taken?"

He had lifted his gaze, finding himself face to face with a messy-haired man with a hobo-like appearance, wearing baggy old clothes and a pair of round and rather ugly glasses.

Then again, it was decidedly rude to assume so many things about a person just from their first appearance – which was generally important, but by no means definite in terms of determining their character.

If anything, Allen himself – with his white hair and scarred face – should know that himself. "Is it?" he had finally said, sparing a sideways glance at the aforementioned seat.

"Hoh, a smartass," the other had responded, occupying it and pulling his glasses off, positively leering at him with strange almost amber-coloured eyes. "Are you also here for the Beta Deal?"

The dishevelled-looking amber-eyed man had been Tyki Mikk, a shady person in his mid-twenties with a shady past and a wry sense of humour to go with it.

-o0o -

Later, on that very same day, Allen had found himself standing outside a somewhat rundown apartment complex with a pair of keys in his hand. On his back was a backpack and he was balancing a heavy sports bag on one of his shoulders and had a rolled-up sleeping bag on top of it, and finally, he had something which looked remarkably much like a helmet tucked under his arm.

All in all, he imagined that he had made quite a spectacle, but it wasn't as though he had had any additional money for taxi fares after he had managed to secure a new place to live at a very short notice, after his former guardian's debts had ensured that various loan sharks and their hired hands would continue harassing him for the money as long as he stayed in what had been their temporary abode.

Now, he supposed they would merely have to do with selling off the stuff that he had left behind at the apartment. The latter was a fact that hadn't concerned him all that much, since it was mostly Cross' stuff anyway, and as far as he himself was concerned, the man – if he was still alive – surely deserved it.

However, seeing that there were certain things that could never be replaced – and due to the goodness of his own heart, if one chose to view it in such a manner – he had actually bothered to snatch a few of the other's personal affects and memorabilia, namely those that were small enough to fit into any of his bags and light enough not to add all that much to his already heavy burden.

As far as he was concerned, by doing this, he had mostly severed the link which had up until then remained between them, and in this "new" apartment, neither his nor Cross' name were on the contract.

All in all, he had supposed that this ought to be the beauty of renting things off the record from a recently rehabilitated alcoholic turned missionary, who full of good-will against the world had needed someone to look after his apartment while he himself was off somewhere in Africa, trying to save the world or something.

Judgement coloured by a healthy amount of realism, Allen had inwardly given the other three months until the latter either took to the bottle again or got himself killed, either of which case would likely result in the termination of their unofficial agreement.

However, three months had still been three months, and he had made sure to lay low during that time. And, having decided to extend his period of truancy to virtual infinity, he had most certainly had more than enough time on his hands to complete his own part of the Beta Deal, and then some.

The apartment had been cramped and dark; it ought to have been a truly depressing sight to some, but Allen was of a more practical disposition.

As far as he had been concerned, it had suited his purposes just fine with its small bathroom, half-empty freezer and old but still perfectly functional microwave.

Admittedly, the small kitchenette in general had been an area and a challenge that even he – who had seen and experienced some very, very, very messy places throughout the course of his life – hadn't managed to muster the courage to take on. He could also very much have done without the fridge filled with a surprisingly varied collection of mould that had found a nearly ideal breeding ground on the various scraps of food that had at some point shared the fridge with the numerous beer cans that still occupied it.

Then again, Allen had also been painfully aware that things would hardly improve as long as he himself did nothing, but he had also reasoned that as long as he kept the door to it firmly sealed and assembled enough money to buy the equipment necessary to decontaminate it, he hardly needed to involve himself.

All in all, the place had been in a rather sorry state – a clear testament to the mental state of its only inhabitant, both shortly before and after said inhabitant's sudden religious experience. However, it had also come with a very fast Internet connection that he had been allowed to use, and free of charge at that.

The fast connection had definitely been a plus, all things considered. However…

Less than a month later, he had packed his stuff and left the apartment, seeing that its original tenant – the recently un-rehabilitated alcoholic – had returned, having lost his job and confidence so to say, and gained the keys to his apartment in return.

All in all, Allen had found that he did not mind all that much, seeing that he now had someone else's couch to crash on up until the point that he found a new place to live.

Admittedly, Tyki's place wasn't all that tidy either, but it was all in all still in a much better condition than the apartment that he had lived in during the previous month, and it wasn't as though he actually spent all that much time looking at it either, seeing that he had resumed his gaming even after the Beta Deal had ended. There was more money to make after all, and occasionally rather easily at that, seeing that he had managed to attain quite a high level by then.

Tyki on the other hand had landed some sort of job that seemingly took place mostly during the odd hours. Allen didn't pry. Admittedly, they shared the same living space and usually at least one meal a day, but other than that, their lives – both online and offline – remained mostly separated.

Truth to be told, Allen honestly didn't mind, and truth to be told, he found that he would rather not know what Tyki was up to whenever the latter left the apartment to head off to work, wherever that was.

After all, he too had his own secrets to keep, some of which were more recent than others.

After Tyki pulled on his coat and disappeared out the door with a wave, Allen slowly rose from his seat and made his way over to the door, locking it before commandeering the couch and then Tyki's laptop, which had conveniently enough been left on and logged in so that Allen could snoop around all that he wanted, if he wanted to do so.

Staring at the screen, Allen considered it for a second before shrugging it off.

After all, even with such an opportunity, it wasn't as though he wished to pry, or at least not beyond making sure that he wasn't in any immediate kind of danger.

Then again, he had always considered himself a fairly decent judge of character. And, while Allen strongly suspected that the other was involved in some type of unsavoury business, he didn't exactly feel threatened – well, not most of the time at any rate.

If such had indeed been the case, then living with the other – however brief the time that they actually spent together – would have been rather difficult, if not nearly impossible and particularly so if the other was indeed a gangster, a secret agent or possible even a hit man or a serial killer.

In either such case, then it was arguable that Allen was probably better off knowing so that he would be able to know when and where and how he could possibly expect to be stabbed in the back, possibly even literally.

Certain precautions might be needed after all.

Then again, if the other was really any of the aforementioned, then Allen doubted that he was the man's target or the target of any of the man's affiliates.

Thus, instead of looking into the other's background, he settled for checking the news before putting the laptop away and picking up his gaming equipment instead.

Opening up his bag, he pulled out a cable and connected one end of it to the slot in the wall and the other to his router.

Sitting himself down on the worn-out couch with the helmet in his hands, he took a deep breath before putting it on and pressing the ON-button on the side of it, bringing it back to life.

Truth to be told, the thing probably had a fancier name than Helmet, but why would that matter to him?

Leaning his head back, he screwed his eyes shut, already feeling the preliminary of a later onslaught of migraine.

From the very start, he had known it that was a stupid idea, and he had known it well. Still, he had needed and still needed the money – and the escape that was provided from him earning it was merely a bonus, and especially so with recent circumstances limiting his physical movements.

Had he been a gaming enthusiast – or purely an escapist unable to face his own reality – then he would probably have marvelled more at the technology and whatnot instead of at the moneymaking opportunity that it presented.

Having completed his time as a beta tester, he had been left with a moderately sized monetary reward and the opportunity to continue playing without buying anything and without being forced to part with any of the virtual items and skills that he had managed to attain during his time as a beta tester.

Admittedly, he had already sold off the items that he didn't have much use for, and those that still remained in his possession were ones that he could make use of in order to collect even more of them, through means that varied largely depending on the opportunities that presented themselves in the game.

Since Arkadia Online's official release mere weeks prior, he had actually contemplated selling his gaming console when the demand was high and the supply limited. Having made a few calculations on his various alternatives however, he eventually concluded that he would probably be able to earn more money through the game than he would through selling his console.

Had he been more geared towards technology, then he would probably have paused to admire the technological marvel that it was, as it was capable of simulating sensory stimuli, allowing for a very real virtual experience. Of course, it was also capable of blocking signals, rendering the user's limbs paralysed without interfering with any essential bodily functions. Truth to be told, it was kind of like entering a dream state whilst remaining conscious as a multitude of electromagnetic signals continuously attacked one's brain, bombarding it with various types of information.

Then again, technically speaking a technological marvel or not, Allen – having actually read all the way through the fine print in the instruction manual – was indeed aware of the fact that said technological marvel was also technically speaking perfectly capable of frying his brain if it short-circuited, which was obviously a risk and hardly one to be taken lightly.

In regards to AO itself and the forums talking about it, he was hardly one to participate in the aforementioned discussions as anything more than the occasional "lurker", since it generally paid off being well-informed about what was going on in general.

Thus, he was by no means completely ignorant about matters – whether said matters directly affected him or not – but that in itself did not necessarily mean that he strove to deepen his knowledge beyond what he deemed necessary in order to a) accomplish his objective, whatever it may be, and b) to either get away unnoticed or simply get away in general, as players were gradually improving and had grown better at protecting their acquired property.

In addition, it obviously hadn't helped that his handle had at some point become attached to his various accomplishments, earning him a certain kind of notoriety in some circles.

Viewing it all in hindsight however, he could not help but wonder whether or not he had in a way anticipated his own eventual rise to infamy, seeing that he had foregone using his actual name as some had a tendency of doing, and had instead opted for one that few – if any – would ever connect to his person in real life.

The Red Rogue – he had come to dub his avatar as such. Whilst a tad pretentious, the name wasn't a lie, seeing that he had at one point in his life been a redhead – before trauma had largely drained the colours from him – and he had always been a rogue, so it really made no sense to pretend otherwise.

As such, he did very little to actively discourage some of the wilder speculations that had recently begun to emerge in regards to his persona, along with his supposed connection to the Crowned Clown, who – as an ever-increasing number of players had begun to notice – had a habit of appearing in the same places as the Red Rogue did, which obviously made sense, seeing that they were ultimately one and the same – well, in a manner of speaking, Allen supposed.

Then again, with people suspecting that there was some sort of connection, he either needed to be a bit more careful from that point on or to put his cards out on full display.

As for the latter, he would rather not, seeing that he would have the Black Order guild after him before he could do as much as blink and he would rather not associate with those people unless he absolutely had to do so.

Thus, discretion it was, and with that, he discarded his crimson cloak for a simple brown one, though he kept his hood up as a general rule, as his hair – stark white like in reality and unfortunately next to impossible to do anything about – stood out like a sore thumb even in an exotic environment full of people adhering to a greater or lesser degree of eccentricity.

Thus, shrouded in his relative anonymity, he entered the Gate, exiting it in a city – Earlsfield – which bore a slight resemblance to 19th Century London, but mostly just in regards to landscapes seen in thriller, action or horror movies set in its immediate vicinity.

Earlsfield was – in a manner of speaking – a place where darkness reigned for most of the time, along with the fog and the crescent moon grinning down at people whilst they were getting hunted down by akuma.

Obviously, seeing to the factthat those who gotten themselves killed in AO were forced to start all over again, Allen was not all too keen on expanding his knowledge on the akuma beyond what he had deemed necessary in order to either avoid or defeat them, much like he dealt with actual PKs, player killers.

Then again, all in all, he could probably qualify himself as one of the latter for all that he cared, seeing to the fact that he had occasionally taken to killing avatars in order to steal their items even though he had made no greater habit of it, seeing to the fact that he by then already had more than enough potential and actual enemies after his virtual blood. Speaking of which…

He ducked into an alleyway whilst accessing his collection of items, pulling out a spell card; they were convenient little things, though they were severely limited in terms of time and use.

He activated it, and dashed off once it had begun working its magic to mask his getaway from his newly acquired tail.

This was Earlsfield after all; it just wasn't the real thing if one didn't acquire a tail or two mere minutes after entering the area.

As a matter of fact, Allen found himself wondering just why there was only one as far as his-…

In quick succession whilst still retaining his speed, he activated a whole bunch of spell cards, scrambling his traceable signature even further and adding hyper speed.

Based on the approach of what he had now confirmed to be several tails, he suspected that he could be dealing with a whole flock of akuma – it wasn't that rare; not anymore, and not in areas like Earlsfield – and since he wasn't all too keen on facing the lot of them and to risk losing all the things that he had managed to attain during the three months and the three weeks that he had been playing the game, he had to remain cautious.

However, though he certainly didn't feel like meeting them all head-on, that in itself did not mean that he wasn't intending on giving them a taste of Hell; not specifically because they had underestimated him – because he would have to work so much harder if people did not underestimate him on a fairly regular basis – but rather because they had caught him in a bad mood.

Besides, he wouldn't be able to pursue his actual objective as long as he had them on his tail, and he was actually on a pretty tight deadline in regards to that and really didn't have all that much time to spare now, did he?

It was also there – in the town of Earlsfield – that he had first had the questionable pleasure of fighting alongside Lavi the Bookman Apprentice, who had just happened to appear in the right place at an opportune moment, obviously for some information-gathering purpose.

However, Allen had something of a policy to uphold and had taken the opportunity to skip town at a given opportunity. After all, just because they had happened to stumble upon one another – however wittingly or utterly unintentionally – that in itself had not necessarily meant that they had to become friends or enemies for that matter.

As a matter of fact, Allen had very much found that he would prefer neither, whether the other would prove a useful source of information in the near future or not.

As things turned out though, Lavi the Bookman Apprentice was not quite satisfied with having been given the slip; not quite satisfied and rather persistent too as a matter of fact.

-o0o -

On the guardrail of the Crimson Bridge, an annoyingly familiar redhead sat, dangling his legs over the edge of it, holding onto a fishing rod.

Allen Walker – or rather, the Red Rogue – paid very little heed to the other as he crossed the bridge, hurrying his steps along as he had only just recently managed to log back in after having spent the last couple of days back in that cramped apartment that was not even his. It was not as though he even liked playing the game all that much to begin with; he played because he had to and in order to escape a reality that he fancied even less.

Thus, feeling more than a bit restless after his absence – brief by the standards of some, and long by his own – he walked briskly, already browsing through his log book for notes on his next target, hoping to be ignored as he generally was. It wasn't as though he went around picking fights with other players after all, even if that would admittedly be a way to make a greater amount of cash in a lesser amount of time.

Then again, the problem with stealing from other players certainly earned a reputation, and then a wanted poster and a bounty and then… trouble.

Thus, he retained a general policy of not interacting with other players except when dealing with them was inevitable. What was and what was not inevitable was a matter of definition though, wasn't it?

A sense of inevitability made itself reminded, and he vividly recalled their initial meeting at Earlsfield, fighting back to back against a group of akuma.

"That's a cool weapon you've got," the redhead idly commented as he made his way past him on the bridge. "Where did you get it?"

Despite knowing better, he paused in his step. "Are you some kind of stalker?"

The redhead turned around, leering. "Nope, just curious. The Old Man Panda always keeps nagging about the importance of getting hold of useful information…"

"Old Man Panda?"

"Nuh-uh-uh… Information is traded in information." The apprentice's leer widened noticeably. "Now where did you get those cool-looking claws?"

Wordlessly, Allen selected a short-distance warping spell from his supply.

- o0o -

Logging out, he dislodged the helmet from his head and put it aside before slumping where he sat in the couch. Checking his phone, he found that he had been playing for five hours straight.

It was just after half past two in the morning, and though exhausted, he got up and headed over to the bathroom, catching sight of his own zombie-like appearance in the mirror as he moved past it.

Somewhere along the way, it occurred to him that he should probably eat something – and probably take a shower or something as well, all things considered – but the mere thought of consuming any type of sustenance nearly had him gagging.

In a way, it did occur to him that the latter was probably an even greater cause of concern, considering the fact that food had always appealed to him and in great quantities as well, though it hardly showed.

Foregoing the need to eat, he took a shower, feeling as though he had not showered in days, which all things considered probably wasn't all that far away from the truth now that he thought about it.

Then again, there were certain reasons now, weren't there?

Drying his hair with a towel, he shot another glance at his reflection as it emerged from the previously fogged up mirror.

Truth to be told, he felt as though he might as well have been looking at a stranger.

- o0o -

The day that followed was a grey one, both in terms of the weather and in terms of Allen's mood in general. He had woken up to face a serious migraine and been unable to go back to sleep and thus, he had started his day by downing a couple of painkillers before forcing some food down his own throat. In doing so, he inwardly prayed that he would be able to keep it down, collapsing back onto the couch and pulling the blankets more tightly around himself, shivering and feeling a tad more miserable than usual.

To add to it all, he was probably running a bit of a fever as well – due to stress no doubt. As such, he decided to stay the Hell away from the game, seeing to the fact that he was not in any shape to handle taking on any challenges and obviously didn't want to make his condition any worse than it already was.

Once the painkillers finally began kicking in and he started to feel somewhat like a human again, he opened his eyes and found – somewhat to his surprise – that he was hungry.

Reaching for his phone, he quickly composed a text to the still absent Tyki, and sent it.

Before long, a response arrived, and as he read it, the edges of his mouth twitched slightly before curling upwards.

It just had to be the stress he'd been subjecting himself to lately, hadn't it?

Headache or not, he must have dozed off for a bit, because he startled awake at the sound of someone ringing the doorbell. Somewhat disoriented, he got up whilst holding his head, quietly making his way up to the door, coming to a pause only when he was standing right next to it, contemplating whether or not he ought to check who it was before unlocking the door.

After all, with the life that he had led with Cross – running from loan sharks and other potentially dangerous people that said man had involved himself with – it was a sheer miracle that his own sanity was still fairly intact, slight paranoia aside.

Then again, it obviously didn't hurt to be careful now, did it?

Even so, he unlocked the door and pressed down the handle, opening it for the one who stood there, bearing takeout.

"Yo," Tyki Mikk greeted, and Allen held the door open for him to enter.

They had only known each other for a few months, having exchanged phone numbers back in the Ark Enterprise lobby, mostly just because. Coincidentally, they had come to the joint realisation that they actually lived in the same building, albeit on different floors, all of which was revealed once they happened upon each other out on the staircase.

Truth to be told, it was a crazy coincidence. Then again, the world was filled with an abundance of crazy things, and currently freeloading as he was, Allen really didn't feel like complaining. But still…

He shut the door behind them both. "How much do I owe you?"

"Your company?" Tyki responded, kicking off his shoes before making his way over to the couch, placing the takeout onto the small table in front of it. "Food tastes better when shared after all."

Hoh. That was a new one.

Shrugging inwardly, Allen locked the door and made his way over, sinking into the couch as well. "If you say so."

Soon, there was but one slice of pizza remaining. Allen glanced at it, but made no comment.

"Last one's yours," Tyki notified him, opening the door to the fridge to fetch himself some alcohol. "I have another boring dinner party to attend, and I need to leave room for some fancy cuisine. I mean, what else is there to do at a boring dinner party but to eat if you're not particularly into mingling?"

Allen stopped pretending to ignore the pizza, leaning back into the couch instead and tilting his head backwards, staring at the ceiling. "You could just ditch the party, you know," he then said, turning his head to stare innocently at Tyki when the latter emerged from the kitchen.

"Don't tempt me," Tyki chided, wrapping up a pair of bottles with some cloth. "Participation is mandatory – unfortunately – and my employer said that unless I wanted to be reassigned as his granddaughter's permanent babysitter, I'd have to make an appearance…"

Allen settled for humming sympathetically, reaching for the last slice of pizza.

- o0o -

"Back so soon, Red Rogue?"

Just having exited the Gate, Allen found that he had a very unwelcome welcoming committee. Go figure.

Momentarily, he found himself tempted to ask whether or not the other had put a homing beacon on his avatar, but since his own trackers picked up nothing, he decided to put it down either to chance or to the other having studied his habits extensively.

Knowing the company, it was with all due likelihood the latter.

Thus, he decided to skip the formalities and to go straight to the point, for better or for worse. "What do you want?"

The Bookman's Apprentice ‒ information peddler and all-around pain in the arse ‒ merely cocked his head slightly before tilting it, evidently faking the grin now. "Mind if we switch to more private locations before getting into that?"

- o0o -

Despite knowing better, Allen allowed himself to be teleported into what turned out to be a living room of some sort, though it was more like a small library with its walls all aligned with shelves upon which a bountiful of thick tomes had been lined.

"You know," the apprentice said, dropping his overly cheerful act somewhat as he flopped down into a comfortable-looking armchair to continue looking at him intently. "I really, really, really don't like being asked questions to which I have no answers, and lately, I've been asked many such questions… mostly about you."

Allen folded his arms over his chest where he had already taken a seat in a similar chair, staring back with a similar intensity but for different reasons altogether. Eyes narrowing slightly, he leaned to the side, propping himself up against one of the armrests using his elbow. "And this concerns me, how?"

"Information," the Bookman apprentice responded, whipping out a thick book and slamming it down onto the table between them as a part of some dramatic gesture. "I need information that you have and I'm willing to trade."

Allen eyed the book, recognising it as an extremely rare copy of The Record. He looked up again at the apprentice, kicking up an eyebrow in evident mystification.

"And what sort of info would you happen to be looking for, pray tell?" he then asked, seeing to the fact that the Bookmen had yet to issue any specific terms. Then again, with The Record now laid out on the table, Allen saw little reason to be any ruder than necessary, especially after that annoying grin was finally absent from the other's face. It still remained to be seen for how long the other would be able to retain that kind of serious expression though.

"Look…" the apprentice began, running a hand through his hair; looking mildly troubled. "You've been playing this game for a while, right?"

Allen levelled his eyes upon the other, retaining his position. "How so?"

A somewhat wry look crossed the other's features. Then, the apprentice shifted slightly in his seat, coming to mirror Allen's own position. "Okay, let's set up a few rules for this, shall we?"

Fair enough, Allen supposed. He straightened up in his chair again, folding his arms across his chest. "Give and take, is it?"

"We're on the same page then?"

He dipped his head once, signalling that he agreed to the terms. "You first," he then deadpanned, giving their surroundings a slight appraisal. "What is this place?"

"The Bookman's Den." Lavi also straightened where he sat, throwing a somewhat wary glance at his surroundings before once again directing his attention towards him. "Now will you answer my question?"

Allen tilted his head slightly to the side, averting his eyes; not because he was feeling ashamed or embarrassed or anything of the sort, but simply because he saw little point in staring someone in the eye unless one expected them to pounce. "I was a part of the Beta Deal," he offered flatly. "So yes, a while."

"I knew it." The other looked mildly triumphant.

Allen disregarded him. "Why is this relevant?"

"Have you been in any contact with any other beta testers since?"

Allen just stared at the other, who was obviously disregarding the rules of their exchange. Still, all in all, he doubted that it was without reason. "One," he eventually responded.

"Why do you want to know?" he then proceeded to ask.

"You mean that you don't know?"

Again, answering a question with a question. Honestly. "I am not entirely clear about what I am supposed to know."

The other just continued to stare at him, like he was some sort of rare specimen or even something supernatural. Truth to be told, it unnerved him. "You're in the UK, right?"

Again, more questions and no real answers. "How so?"

"Are you or are you not?"

Honestly. "Well, wouldn't you want to know…"

The redhead stared at him seriously; intensely. "London area?"

"Close enough," he yielded, not really intending on being any more specific.

"You know the London Aquarium?"

"Yes." Why?

"Got time to spare tomorrow?"

"Who knows?" he responded, standing up.

The redhead opened his mouth, and then snapped it back shut, looking mildly frustrated as he remained in his seat. "Look, I know that this is a weird request and all, but…"

Allen ‒ already in the middle of preparing his own departure ‒ resisted a sudden urge to roll his eyes, keeping his face largely impassive. "Let me guess… You want me to trust you?"

"I want you to hear me out," the other clarified, once again giving him that look. "Whether or not you trust me comes afterwards."

Hoh. "Fair enough," Allen finally yielded, turning to face the other. "If you reimburse my entrance fee."

A wry smile crossed the other's face. "Really, forcing an impoverished college student to pay for you…"

He returned the smile with an equal amount of wryness. "Really, asking a secondary school dropout out for a date?" he asked somewhat rhetorically before logging out.

- o0o -

Back in real life, Allen let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples.

He could feel his migraine returning.

- o0o -

Arkadia Online.

Despite its initial tediousness, the game eventually became kind of fun in itself as long as one had decent company – that is, none whatsoever – and kept it simple.

Hunt, sell, steal (subtly), sell, level up, rinse, repeat.

Complications were a bother; complications were unneeded.

Complications were…

The jellyfish bobbed up and down in the aquarium.

It had definitely been a bad idea to come.

Then again, perhaps it had been avoidable, truly?

- o0o -