Sky's Corner

A sudden glass-like shatter interrupted the calm, immediately followed by the metallic clinking of dropped loot hitting the forest floor. You looked over at the commotion in time to see a hulking figure step out from the brush. It was HowlKo. His massive, muscular frame carried a greatsword like it was nothing more than a feather. He would have been an impressive sight if it weren’t for the way his heavy burgundy tail thrashed behind him the millisecond his golden eyes locked onto your form still kneeling next to the patch of mushrooms you had spent the last hour foraging for.

“Hey, Ko,” you said casually, turning your attention back to your task, continuing to pluck the fungus from the root.

The frantic wagging of his burgundy tail stopped dead, and his golden eyes blinked at you in disbelief, his jaw dropping open. He lowered his greatsword, resting the heavy tip against the dirt.

“‘Hey, Ko?’” he repeated, his voice carrying an offended whine. “Really? That’s it? No ‘Thank you, Ko, for saving me from those goblins’?”

“I do not sound like that,” you protested.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “I defeated the whole mob for you, and all I get is ‘hey?’ Unbelievable.” His fluffy ears pinned back against his hair, pouting. You rolled your eyes, a laugh bubbling in your throat at his antics.

You put on a grandiose voice. “You’re my hero, Ko! How can I ever repay you?”

He pretended to think about it, but he already had a request in mind. “Gimme half of those mushrooms.”

“No way!” you objected, the playful tone dropping instantly into a horrified hiss, clutching your inventory pouch close to your chest. “Do you have any idea how long it took to find these? Find your own!”

“They would have been forfeit if that mob had gotten you, so I could be asking for all of them,” he rebutted.

“That’s assuming I couldn’t handle them myself. Which I totally could have.”

“I have way more attack points than you—“

“And I have more hit points, so what’s your point?”

“Just gimme the mushrooms,” he pleaded. “I’ll trade you half the goblin loot.”

“No deal,” you hummed, popping the last of the mushrooms into your inventory with a victorious chime. “I don't need rusty goblin armor, and I have plenty of gold. I need these for my alchemy level.”

Ko let out a dramatic, exaggerated groan, throwing his head back so hard his fluffy ears flopped pitifully against his hair. He stomped over, his heavy boots rustling the grass, and plopped his massive frame onto the dirt next to you. He didn't even bother to sheath his sword properly, letting it clatter to the side. “You're so mean to me,” he whined, his tail giving a singular sad pat against the earth. He leaned sideways, heavily dropping his shoulder against yours. “I log onto this server every day just to be your personal bodyguard, and you won't even share a few measly mushrooms.”

You laughed, the tip of your sensitive ears twitching at the sudden warmth of his avatar leaning against you. “If you're so starved for attention, why don't you go bother the players in the town square?”

Ko huffed, his golden eyes narrowing as he turned his head to look at you, his tone shifting from whiny to something softer. Tentative, even. “Because they aren't you. Besides, you come over to my cabin all the time to cook and log off. If we’re going to spend hours bickering over digital mushrooms…” he paused, his tail giving a nervous twitch. “...why don't we just do it over actual dinner? In the real world?”

Your smile dropped as the weight of his question settled between you. You looked at him, at the golden eyes staring at you expectantly, the ones you had come to be so familiar with, and felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Ko…” you started softly, shifting your weight on the grass. “You know I love spending time with you here, but I don't think I’m comfortable with meeting in person.”

His burgundy ears perked up in a flash of confusion, his head tilting. “Why not?” he asked. “You already know me.”

“I know HowlKo,” you corrected. “But the real world is different. You could be literally anyone behind that avatar, and reality doesn't have the built-in player protections that Whispering Woods does.”

A heavy, stunned silence fell over the clearing. Ko sat frozen. He looked heartbroken, his fluffy tail dropping flat against the dirt with a pathetic thump. He let out a long sigh from behind the mask. “Okay, fair point,” he conceded, his tone shifting to something hopeful once again. He reached up, his large, clawed gloves unlacing the leather straps at the back of his head. “But what if you already know exactly who I am?”

With a soft click of the game’s apparel physics, the wolf snout mask dissolved into light. You blinked, tracking the movement as the pixelated shower of light dissipated. With the mask no longer blocking his features, you could finally see the strikingly sharp jawline, the perfectly sculpted lips, and the flawless symmetry of Chairman Valko—the very man who headed the tech company that had designed the full-dive gear you were currently using.

For a few seconds, all you could do was stare at the newly revealed lower half of his face. Then, a snort escaped you, followed by bright, airy laughter that echoed through the clearing. You leaned back on your hands, shaking your head in amusement.

“Oh my god, Ko, no way,” you giggled, completely missing the pouty expression on his gorgeous features. “A Valko mod? Are you serious? You really customized yourself to look like the EonCore CEO? How much real-world cash did you drop just to roleplay him?”

Ko’s jaw slackened— a handsome jaw, you had to admit, even if it belonged to a counterfeit billionaire. His virtual wolf ears drooped so much they practically disappeared into his hair. “I didn't buy a skin—”

“Sure you didn't,” you laughed, reaching over to pat his ridiculously perfect cheek. “It's a great prank, really. 10 out of 10 for originality.”

“But—” he started again, but you weren't listening, your attention instead taken by the timer you had set popping into view.

“Gotta go, Ko. Have food in the oven. See you tomorrow!” you said cheerfully, logging out before he could respond and leaving him in the clearing to ponder the best way to prove his identity to you.

— — —

When you dived back into the server the next evening, HowlKo was already waiting for you, his wolf mask back in place. He was pacing back and forth, his heavy tail thrashing behind him in a blur of agitation. The moment your avatar materialized, he stormed over.

“I’m gonna prove it to you,” he declared, skipping any sort of greeting.

You raised an eyebrow. “Prove what? That you're a secret billionaire?”

Ko didn’t answer. Instead, he swiped his hand aggressively through the air, summoning a glowing gold developer console that regular players absolutely did not have access to.

He typed in a command, and, with a deafening crash, a veritable mountain of rare items dropped to the ground, more than you’d ever seen in all your time playing the game combined.

“See! Look! Just a few clicks and I can have anything! Other players can’t do that, but I can.”

You gazed in awe upon the assortment of gold, gems, potions, even mythical weapons and armor. “Wow, Ko. You’re a skilled hacker,” you commented, totally missing the way his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Seriously, though, be careful, or the actual chairman is going to ban your account, and I don't want to lose my favorite foraging partner.”

Ko felt like he was going to scream. What would it take to prove it to you? A small, pathetic whine escaped his throat. “Just…keep the loot,” Ko groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose right above the snout of his mask. He gestured to the fortune surrounding you. “Consider it a gift.”

You immediately took three massive steps backwards, putting as much distance between you and the contraband Ko had summoned. “No way. What if you get me caught for cheating, too?”

“Not how it works. And it’s already here anyway, so just take it.”

You staunchly refused, and Ko stared at you, his fluffy burgundy tail drooping. He looked so defeated that you caved, only a little, and plucked a health potion from the pile. It appeased him, if only a little, a small smile spreading under the mask. “If you really need to get rid of it all, I know this dragon player that would love to take it off your hands.”

Valko hummed, but didn't argue that the items were intended for you. He acquiesced and asked what the player ID was, pulling up that strange navigation console. He almost scoffed when the ID pulled up one of the most pretentious usernames he had yet seen, and he had seen many. “Abysm Sovereign?” he laughed, reading the name aloud. “Just who is this guy?”

His contagious laugh ignited your own. “You should see the rest of my friend list,” you giggled, already pulling up the list. Ko’s eyes scanned it, reading names such as PntMeLk1ofUrFrnchGrls, PommePommePilot, StarBoyLumiere, and, disappointingly, Dr. Z.

With the wealth transferred to a now very pleased dragon, you and Ko set off for his player residence, a gorgeous, secluded cabin tucked away in a seldom-visited corner of the map. The property, like all player residences, was restricted to those who hadn't been invited by the owner.

Once inside, you beelined to his alchemy table, eager to use those mushrooms. While you pulled items out of your inventory, Ko threw himself on the plush velvet sofa nearby. He finally removed his mask, tossing it onto the coffee table. His large frame took up the whole couch and then some, his feet propped on one armrest while he threw an arm behind his head as a makeshift pillow. His golden eyes tracked your avatar’s every movement, his gaze unbearably fond.

“You know,” he rumbled, “you're lucky I let you use my crafting tables for free. Most alchemists have to rent those.”

You didn't even look up from your stirring, the corner of your lip twitching into an almost-there grin. “I’m still not sharing the mushrooms.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned. “You can't spare just one?”

You shook your head, not even trying to hide your smug amusement, airy giggles filling the room and embedding themselves in Valko’s fluttering heart.

By the time your brewing level flashed a celebratory [Level Up!] notification, it was getting late. You stretched your avatar’s arms, yawning. “Alright, Ko, I’m heading out for the night. It’s getting late.”

He sat up on the couch, his expression suddenly shifting into something serious, his intense gaze locked onto you. “Tomorrow at noon,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “There is a global EonCore Tech broadcast. Watch it.”

You blinked, throwing him a confused look, but agreed all the same.

“Promise?” he asked, his burgundy ears giving a sharp twitch.

You smiled softly at him, still wondering why he was so adamant that you watch. “Yeah, yeah, I promise,” you laughed, waving a hand at him. “See you tomorrow, Ko!”

You woke up with a groggy yawn, the phantom sensation of pointed ears still lingering as you rubbed your eyes. Glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. 11:58 AM. You scrambled for your tablet, quickly tapping onto the livestream you had promised Ko that you would watch.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a massive auditorium flooded with press. At the podium was the real Chairman Valko, so much more intimidating than your foraging partner. The one at the podium wore a suit that could probably cover your rent, his hair perfectly styled and golden eyes scanning the crowd. He also lacked the pointed ears and fluffy tail that you had become so fond of.

“As we move into the new fiscal year, EonCore remains dedicated to the safety and experience of its players,” Valko spoke, his smooth voice echoing through the speakers. It was the same voice that usually begged you to share potion ingredients, but here, it was devoid of any hint of playfulness.

You watched him, leaning back into your pillows. You almost scoffed. As if Ko could really be-”

“However,” Valko continued, pausing as he looked at the center camera lens. “With our recent update to the servers, we advise our players to exercise caution when playing the new events. You never know what kind of stray dog you might find. You may find the Lunar Fungus not worth the risk.”

Your jaw dropped, and the tablet nearly slipped from your grasp. The press in the auditorium didn't even blink, his vague warning likely sounding like a teaser for whatever new event was being added, but you knew better. A breathless, horrified gasp left your throat as your mind flashed back to the day you had first come across the wolf hybrid avatar.

Valko had wanted to test the gameplay personally, and thus HowlKo was born. The only problem? He was a disaster. You had been slowly but surely making your way through a dungeon when you heard a series of crashes. Turning around, you had found a towering, clumsy player with a wolf mask surrounded by level-two slimes he couldn't figure out how to target and bits of armor that had, up until a moment ago, been neatly displayed as a full suit.

You had sighed, easily slicing the slimes away and helping him up. From that point on, he hadn't left your side, clinging to you like a remora. He didn't know the map, he didn't know the crafting recipes, and he refused to leave your side, following along behind you everywhere you went.

“You're like a stray dog, aren't you?” You had joked back then, watching his tail give a hesitant, hopeful wag. You’d been inseparable since.

Back in the real world, you stared at the screen, mortified. Valko, Ko, adjusted his expensive cuffs, gave a polite nod to the press, and stepped away from the podium.

You couldn't get the VR set on fast enough, the sensory transition passing in a blur of blinding white pixels until your feet hit the wood floor of Ko’s cabin’s front porch. It was your day off, which meant you had a completely open schedule. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had nothing to distract yourself from dwelling on the fact that you had been calling a tech mogul a stray dog to his face for a year. Or that you'd accused him of hacking.

You didn't even bother going inside. Instead, you dropped onto the top step of the porch, wrapping your arms around your knees as you waited for him to log in. For twenty agonizing minutes, you sat there, staring at digital grass and felt the simulated breeze blowing through the clearing Ko’s cabin was situated in.

Suddenly, a chime interrupted the serenity, signaling the arrival of the owner of the cabin. In a blur of burgundy pixels, Valko’s avatar materialized just in front of the steps leading up the porch. Your head jerked up, watching him materialize in front of you.

He was wearing his wolf snout mask again, his massive greatsword securely strapped to his back. The second his boots hit the dirt, he registered your figure sitting on his stoop. A look of shock crossed his face.

“Did you watch the broadcast?” he asked, his deep baritone carrying a smug amusement.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning, more embarrassed than you cared to admit. God, you couldn't believe you had accused him of hacking.

“And what did you think?” Valko prodded.

“That I’m an idiot,” you lamented, your voice still muffled by your hands.

He chuckled, leaning down to pull your hands away from your face, the pout on your lips so endearing he felt his heart skip a beat. With your hands still in his, he pulled you up, leading the way into the cabin.

Your cheeks flamed. All you could focus on was the way his warm hand encapsulated yours so perfectly.

Inside, he removed the mask, letting it dissolve in a cloud of pixels, revealing the sharp curve of his lips in a smirk, his fangs flashing. “Y’know, I think you should make it up to me for calling me a hacker and a liar,” he teased, gearing up to once again pester you for those damn mushrooms.

You frowned, the floor suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. An uncomfortable guilt settled in your chest from your previous words. “‘M sorry, Valko,” you mumbled, barely looking up from the floorboards, like a child being scolded by a parent.

The grin fell from his face. He wasn't trying to actually make you feel bad, especially over something he wasn't even mad at. He certainly didn't want the first time he heard you say his name be because you were apologizing to him. “Ko,” he corrected bluntly. “I’m still your Ko. The version that you know is the authentic one. Nothing has really changed if you don't want it to.” He spoke earnestly, desperate to rectify the slight miscommunication and salvage your image of him.

You looked at him properly this time, searching his eyes for any hint of dishonesty. Finding none, you sighed, your shoulders slumping. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

He considered the question for a moment. “Because then you would have treated me like the EonCore Tech chairman.”

You were taken aback by his answer, but considered his earlier words. He was still your Ko. “For someone who wanted to avoid being recognized, you sure didn't change much about your avatar.”

The return of your sly grin lifted a weight from his chest. “That’s what the mask is for, duh. I’ve seen you almost every day for a year, and you never suspected it. Even when I showed you my face, you assumed it was a skin. So obviously hiding in plain sight was a great plan, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes, happy that your companion was here to stay.

“In all seriousness,” he began again, the brief levity broken as soon as it had been established. “I thought about what you said the other day. I’ve proved who I am, and I was serious about wanting to meet you in person. But if you're still not comfortable, would you be open to a virtual date? We can do whatever you want, right here on the server.”

His tail gave a small, hopeful wag, his eyes wide and sincere as he awaited your answer. Warmth bloomed in your chest and spread across your face to the tips of your ears. Slowly, you shook your head.

Valko’s shoulders dropped instantly, his ears drooping and his tail becoming listless. He couldn't hide the abject disappointment fast enough. “That’s alright,” he said, forcing a smile, wishing he had never opened his mouth.

“No, Ko,” you laughed gently. “I’m declining the virtual date.”

He snapped his head towards you, his ears perking back up. “You mean-”

You nodded. “In person,” you confirmed. “If the offer still stands.”

A beamed at you, his bright smile lighting up his whole face with unbridled joy. “The offer absolutely stands.”

— — —

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside the restaurant. You had half expected some over-the-top, expensive restaurant with a month-long waiting list. Instead, Valko had sent you the address of a dimly lit, likely family-owned hole in the wall. It was cozy, the decor outdated and the booths a little worse for wear.

“Do you recognize it?”

You turned around. Standing near a corner booth was Valko— the real-world Valko. He was dressed down in a sweater with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, looking impossibly handsome despite the casual clothing.

You blinked, looking around the exposed brick walls and checkered tablecloths. “Oh my god,” you breathed, a bright smile breaking across your face. “It’s the tavern in the city center.”

Valko nodded, thoroughly pleased that you not only recognized it, but that it made you happy. The dinner passed in a blissful blur. Any lingering nervousness you had entirely dissolved in the first ten minutes. He was the same doting and slightly needy partner you had spent the better part of the past year falling for. He poured your drinks, pushed the bread basket closer to your side, and listened to everything you said with rapt attention, his eyes soft and full of unwavering fondness that made your cheeks flush.

As the night finally wrapped up, he offered to take you home. You guess you shouldn’t have been surprised that he had a personal driver, but you were still flustered when Valko himself held the door open for you, sliding in beside you.

“So, Mr. Chairman,” you hummed. “You kept your identity a secret, hid a message in a global broadcast, and built a replica of one of your favorite restaurants in-game. Any other surprises up your sleeve?”

Valko hesitated, diverting his attention to the passing streetlights before looking back at you, so pretty in a way your avatar hadn’t been able to capture. “Maybe one or two,” he chuckled. He redirected the conversation back to you, not quite ready to reveal the rest and wanting more than anything to arrange another date to get to know the you behind the avatar who taught him the mechanics of his own game and so jealously guarded her inventory.

When the car pulled up the curb in front of your apartment building, Valko reluctantly slid out of the seat, holding the door for you and offering his hand.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “I had a great time.”

Valko nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. Would you, uh,” he faltered, red spreading across his cheekbones. “Would you want to do this again?”

You giggled, over the moon that he seemed every bit as enamored with you as you were with him. “I’d love that.”

He let out a relieved huff, the nervous tension visibly leaving his shoulders. You bid your goodbyes, but you’d hardly taken two steps before you stopped wrestling with your own cowardice, shoving it down as you whirled back around to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. With a final, whispered goodbye, you hurried into the building, leaving Valko to stand there with his fingers lightly grazing the skin your lips had been on just moments prior.

His heart fluttered like a trapped hummingbird, soaring high as he climbed back into the car. His mind kept wandering back to what it felt like to have you close—for real this time, not like when you’d cozy up next to him on the couch of his cabin.

“Hello.” He appears almost out of thin air, standing next to you with a medium black suitcase in tow. It’s sleek and expensive-looking, the kind of luggage that’s clearly never been roughly handled by airport baggage crews. You almost cringe at how your dinged-up pink suitcase must look in comparison, its scratches and faded stickers a sign of every underfunded adventure. If Zayne notices, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he hands you a slip of thick paper, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Our train tickets.” He explains, an almost imperceptible smirk on his face when you glance at him confused. Of course, your confusion is not about what the paper is, but rather why he has them. Both of them. Your name printed neatly beside his.

“You didn’t need to buy mine too. I’d be happy to pay you back for it.” You reach for your wallet, your action halted by cool fingers encircling your wrist. Instantly, blood rushes through your ears, loud as a wave. Sure, Zayne has touched you before. A hand on your shoulder after a difficult appointment, a brief steadying grip when you’d tripped leaving his office. But it’s always been a very professional sort of touch. Never straying too far from the confines of your very odd friend/doctor-patient relationship.

But something about this feels different.

His thumb rests against your pulse point, and you know, you know, he can feel how fast your heart is beating.

“There’s no need.” His voice is quieter now, meant only for you. “Isn’t this my duty as your boyfriend?”

If there’s a heaven, it better be exactly like this.

“You-you don’t need to start that right now.” The words tumble out too fast. “We only really have to pretend in front of my colleagues. And they won’t be around all the time so for most of the trip we can just be our regular selves!” You smile in what you can only hope is a reassuring manner, though it feels more like a grimace.

For some reason, your words have little effect on Zayne. His expression doesn’t shift, but something in his eyes dims, just slightly, just for a fraction of a second. You thought he’d be relieved at not having to pretend to be your boyfriend the whole time. Could it be that he was…

Disappointed?

Nah. No way.

You almost laugh out loud at the thought, the sound catching in your throat. What could be more ridiculous than that? Zayne hasn’t ever given even a hint as to returning your feelings. Not once in all the time you’ve known him. You’d nearly given up on the idea altogether, had started mentally composing the speech you’d give yourself about how some crushes were just meant to go unrequited. Maybe this trip would finally be the nail in the coffin for you to well and truly let go.

The train arrives soon enough. Zayne picks up your suitcase with ease, one hand wrapped around the handle of his own, the other lifting yours like it weighs nothing, very pointedly ignoring your protests. You follow behind him as he navigates to your seats, his shoulder blades shifting beneath his coat with each step. He lets you choose where you want to sit with a small gesture of his hand, and you settle by the window, immediately pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Okay, so we should get to the resort in time for dinner which means my friends will definitely want to meet you. So we have to get our story straight.” The serious tone in your voice makes Zayne raise a brow almost immediately.

“Our story?” He settles into the seat beside you, close enough that his knee almost touches yours. “Wouldn’t it be easier to simply say I asked you out?”

“And how exactly did you do that?”

“Simple.” He leans back slightly, considering. “We ran into each other at the bakery near the hospital that we both frequent. I asked you if you were free for dinner. You said yes. We went on a few dates, and I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, no one speaks.

His ears begin to grow red. The tips first, then the whole curve, a slow bloom of color you’ve never witnessed before. He glances away from your shocked face, focusing instead on the back of the seat in front of him, though there’s nothing to see. You’ve never seen Zayne flustered. Composed Dr. Zayne, who could deliver difficult diagnoses without a tremor in his voice. And you can’t believe you’re seeing it under these circumstances.

“I…okay. Sure.” Your own voice sounds distant. “We-we can tell them that.”

As if to also hide from the awkwardness, you turn to look out the window, admiring the view as the train begins to move, pretending it doesn’t pale in comparison to the man sitting next to you.

Apparently, you fall asleep at some point. The gentle rocking of the train and the low murmur of other passengers must lull you under. You wake to Zayne’s hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, his thumb pressing lightly into the fabric of your top.

“Are we there yet?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. When they finally focus, you realize that it wasn’t the window you’d fallen asleep against. It was Zayne’s shoulder. There’s probably a crease mark on your cheek. You resist the urge to hide your face from his view.

“Not yet.” He doesn’t mention it. “We still have a few hours left, but I assumed you would be hungry. I packed sandwiches.”

He holds out a carefully wrapped sandwich, which you take slowly, still burning with embarrassment. Zayne doesn’t seem to mind though, unwrapping his own and eating without saying a word, his focus fixed somewhere on the passing landscape.

You take a bite, only to immediately pull back in surprise.

It’s perfect. Exactly the way you like it, the bread lightly toasted, the turkey sliced thin, exactly the right amount of mustard, even the particular brand of cheese you always buy. How the hell did he know how you like your sandwiches?

“The first time we had lunch together, you were very specific with your order.” Zayne says, almost too casual for such an oddly intimate thing. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, his gaze still on the window. “It was easy to remember.”

But you remember that lunch too. You remember the way he’d listened, nodding along as you explained, in probably too much detail, exactly why cold sandwiches were superior to grilled ones. You hadn’t thought he was paying that close attention. But he’s always had a good memory, so you don’t comment on it.

The two of you eat in silence, save for your mumbled thanks when he hands you a bottle of water, and then a napkin, and then, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on him, a small bottle of pear-scented hand sanitizer.

“Do you have a bag like Mary Poppins that I’m not seeing?” You joke with a teasing grin as you rub the sanitizer into your skin, the sweet fragrance blooming between you.

“It’s good to be prepared.” Is all Zayne has to add. Of course. He was always prepared for everything. Including, apparently, pretending to be dating you.

When the train finally pulls into the station, the announcement crackling overhead, you once again follow behind Zayne as he leads the way off. The mountain air hits you first, cool and crisp, so different from the city. You take a moment to admire him as he scans the crowd, his broad shoulders and toned physique silhouetted against the golden hour light. Perhaps it’s wrong to be so excited for such a thing, but you’re really looking forward to seeing him by the pool. You allow yourself exactly three seconds to imagine it before firmly shutting that thought away.

“Do you see your colleagues anywhere?” He helps you off the last step, standing just close enough that anyone nearby would easily mistake you for a couple. Which, for the week, you technically are.

“Hey! Over here!” Tara’s voice is loud and clear, cutting through the station noise. She’s waving at you with both hands, a wide smile on her face, flanked by a small group of familiar faces. Zayne’s hand slips into yours so naturally that you don’t even question it, his fingers interlacing with yours like they’ve done it a hundred times before. It feels nice, to hold his hand and feel the warmth of his body so close to yours, even as you walk toward your friends and the performance you’ve signed up for.

“This must be Zayne!” Tara is grinning, her eyes doing that knowing thing they always do. She clearly recognizes the man you’ve spent many drunken karaoke nights gushing over, whose photo you may have accidentally-on-purpose shown her once. To his credit, Zayne doesn’t let his surprise show. He uses his free hand to shake hands around the circle while not letting go of you, his grip warm and steady.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” He says it like he means it, and maybe he does. They exchange pleasantries and small talk about the trip, how were the trains, did you bring swimsuits, isn’t the resort supposed to be amazing. The nerves have started to creep back in now, curling low in your stomach. It’s not like anything bad would happen if you got caught, it’s not a crime to be single, but now it was real. The lie had left the station. And it would be truly humiliating to be found out. I mean, how pathetic. You had to have a friend pretend to be your boyfriend just for a free vacation? You’d never hear the end of it. Tara would never let you live it down.

“You guys must be starving!” Tara suggests, already turning toward the exit. “Should we go get dinner now?”

You glance to Zayne. He’s already looking at you, waiting. When he nods in agreement, you do the same, squeezing his hand without thinking. After all, you were prepared for this. You had a story. You had a fake boyfriend who remembered how you take your sandwich.

What’s the worst that could happen?

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Do maintain a polite tone in your feedback (even when you are issuing a threat like leaving the game).

Do specify your current disappointments, long-term criticisms, and expectations for the future of the game should you continue to play. For example, don't just say you want more Main Story updates; specify that you want them every three months.

Do clearly isolate your long-term issues with the game from the current issue of Valko's release. Make it clear that those issues are not resolved by delaying or permanently canceling Valko's debut.

Do talk positively about whatever you can (ie. enjoying other LIs, enjoying the content of the Main Story itself, appreciating the worldbuilding, etc). This may feel difficult, but it demonstrates that you are a passionate player. Infold can assume that a player so invested in the game would need something drastic to push them to leave.

Don't use profanity.

Don't reference CN players.

Don't bring up Infold's past mistakes. We need to stay focused on the current issues.

Don't criticize anything about Valko's teased content. This one may be unpopular, I know. If Infold is pulling back Valko's release, I don't think it's likely that they will be willing to invest any more time and money into his development. If they continue to get more and more criticisms about him and don't care to change anything about him, they will never release him. I'm not minimizing any fan's concerns; I'm suggesting we choose a priority.

If you are unsure where to start, here are some talking points:

Express your excitement over Valko (bonus points if you give reasons why). Did you come back from a long hiatus for him?

Express your disappointment over not having Valko in the game. How will it impact your enjoyment of the game?

Describe how you prepared for his anticipated arrival. • In-game (farm for dias, bought packs, etc) • On your devices (created storage space, bought a new device, etc) • Financially (budgeted for buying packs upon his release, etc)

Describe how you engaged in fandom around Valko. Did you create fanart, fanfiction, or other fanworks? How much were you consuming fanworks showcasing him? Demonstrating how beloved he was before any real content of his being released indicates a warm reception if/when he is released.

What are the current issues you experience with the game? Be specific. Describe exactly how they impact your gameplay. Suggest a concrete way those issues could be resolved. Assert that Valko's release being postponed or canceled will not resolve these issues.

Express concern for the changes to their planned story arc his absence would create. Question if those changes would be as enjoyable as their original plan.

(If you're feeling up to it) Acknowledge the amount of time, effort, and money that must have gone into creating Valko. Let them know it would disappoint you to see it go to waste.

Infold made a terrible decision. We need to take action and let Infold know that a large portion of the LADS fanbase wants Valko to be released at some point. Let's try to remain positive where we can, engage in positive fandom, and do our best to make our voices heard by Infold.

In the midst of your inner screaming, you failed to notice the series of caws going away, Mephisto had watched. Great, the sound of the crash must’ve echoed down the hall—you hoped Mephisto was sent to watch over Emcee, but he just had to be spying on you.

You crouched down, wincing when something stings on your feet. 

Ah, some of the shards prickled your feet. Tiny scratches emit blood from it—but you needed to save the flowers, you knew how much Emcee's gifts are worth to Sylus. It would probably cost your whole life.

"Stop.”

It took one single word and tone to make you flinch. The command boomed down the hallway, black mists reached too late when you had touched a shard, gripped hard when you got startled. You stiffened, avoiding looking at him. 

Heart hammering, cold sweat dampens your back. There was no way to hide this mess, huh?

Crunch of glass underneath their boots. You were only wearing slippers.

Luke and Kieran came in tow, navigating around you to clean up the mess while Sylus lifted you in his arms. He frowned at the blood on your feet, tiny glass shards still prickling in.

"Why are you hiding your face?" he asked, with a slight frown. Staring down at you while he made his way to his bedroom, were you that scared of him? 

"I haven't even bitten you,” he murmured, arms tightening around you.

"I'm sorry I broke your vase that has Emcee's flowers in it." You blurted out immediately, feeling sick in your stomach. "Please don't cast me out—or kill me, you can take my paycheck for the vase."

Sylus hasn't heard something so absurd in his life. He scoffs in disbelief. Whatever you were even talking about?

He set you down on the bathroom counter, then grabbed some medical supplies. The silence he's giving off now is scaring you much more. Your palms were clammy by now, gripping your own shirt.

He had gently taken your hand, the one that pricked the shard. He tsk-ed at the blood staining your shirt, he should’ve tended to your hand immediately.

"You could tell me why you didn't immediately ask for help and explain why you touched the shards yourself instead." He hummed, kneeling to peel off the shards from your feet with tweezers.

"I was trying to save the flowers... I know how much you value her gifts," you muttered, holding your hands together to hold off the pain. One shard had pricked too deeply, you cried in pain.

A soothing rub of comfort was on your knee, while his black mist assisted his other hand.

"To the point I would sacrifice you to go through broken glass?” He raised a brow, sighing. Before you could splutter a response, he sighed.

“No, dove,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I must change your mind if you think I would sacrifice you."

Not his worker, not his assistant, but you. Specifically, you.

He gestured for you to turn your feet toward the sink, gently washing the blood off before disinfecting them.

"But it's from her..."

"Do you think I choose her more than you?"

"I-Isn't that obvious? Her, of course."

His movements stop at your words. His eyes glanced at your teary ones, in pain from the alcohol he was dabbing on—or was it from fear? 

Wrapping it with some bandages, he made sure it was secure while he checked for any more injuries.

"You once had Luke and Kieran chase the man for the brooch that was meant for her." His head snapped up, inhaling deeply. Right, you were there when he went to grab it at an auction. He barked the orders as soon as the brooch was snatched from the auction listings.

"And the dress was the wrong size, you got mad." You timidly reasoned, fingers fiddling with each other. “I immediately sent it back for a new size—you should check it when you can, it arrived today.”

Sylus furrowed his brows. Did he come off as mad? Surely he only said it was the wrong size, but you handled the problem perfectly as always—he didn’t mean to reprimand you. It was to remind himself to double-check the size.

“Also, the necklace that wasn’t ready before her birthday…”

"It seems you're misunderstanding things, dove." He cuts you off, unable to hear anymore. He felt like a fool for not knowing how you felt all this time.

You frowned, holding onto him when he lifted you. Shifting uncomfortably, you remind yourself he was only being considerate of your injured feet—would he lift you on normal occasions?

You expected him to move you back to your room, which was just across his, only to place you on his bed. Eyes widened, you squirmed, panicking. "W-Wait, what are you doing—"

"Stay still." He grunts, fixing the pillows behind you for you to sit comfortably. "Tell me if you need anything, or ask Luke or Kieran."

"And we're going to talk. Right here, right now," he said, pulling a chair to sit by the bed.

You gulped, intimidated. Was he going to fire you after this? Will this be your end? 

Your waterworks were already streaming, which surprised him. Yet he only chuckled, wiping them away now. His hand lingered, cradling your face, just like he always does whenever he sees you asleep.

“Whatever you’re thinking is not true,” he murmured, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He felt like a fool for letting you think otherwise.

"Everything you just mentioned was all for you."

You choked on your own saliva. Sylus already had a glass of water in his hand and handed it to you. "Your paycheck wouldn't be able to afford the vase, it'll be three years' worth of your paycheck."

"I'm so sorry..." you meekly said, holding the glass of water like a wrongdoer. You hadn’t processed the words he said.

Everything was for you.

It took you a while to boot before gasping. “What do you mean it was for me?”

“I always had wanted to reward you with something for your hard work… an outfit with matching accessories, a dinner for you with me.” He had planned it. A surprise, he didn’t expect you would think it was for Miss Hunter.

The look on your face was amusing. He laughed at your disbelief expression. He decided to add the attack. "Yes, it's you whom I value more if you haven't got the hint."

Sylus laughed, glad to see your tears stop. "And your apology will be accepted if you agree to go with me to make a new vase and tell me your favorite flowers."

"Make? My favorites?"

"Yes, make. I will put your flowers in it."

"...I swear you're playing too hard, boss." You squint, looking at him. Fingers fiddled, you frowned.

“You… You’re not joking, right?”

“When have I joked about my intentions with you, dove?”

“Right…” you muttered. It wasn’t like he ever played around. 

The hand on your cheek was warm, his thumb kept rubbing comfortably—gosh, you would have your face in his hands at any time. 

“Dinner this weekend night?” he murmured, casually throwing in the invite. He raised a brow at the lack of answer, laughing when he realized you were in daze.

He thinks it’s a yes from your dopey smile.

in which i try to make less than 1k words for sylus but fail. the whole point of this is i just want someone to speak softly to me