IGTL Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Reality and Virtuality

That night, I headed to a 24-hour internet cafe near my place.

Why the net cafe? Because I felt physically unsafe.

I could not explain it, but something bad felt imminent. So I dumped everything I owned into my Item Storage and fled to the cafe.

After showing my membership card at the counter, I chose a 24-hour pack in a lockable, fully private VIP Sofa Room.

“This will be your room, sir. Please relax and enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks.”

Once inside, I shut the door, sank into the sofa, and brought up the menu bar.

I opened Friend List.

Friend List was a DW feature that let you see registered friends’ names and current locations, trade items, and make calls or send mail between friends.

Normally, to register someone, you had to either meet in-game or type their player ID in Friend List Search, send a Friend Request, and be approved.

But reality seemed to play by different rules.

On my Friend List were the names of my former boss, Director Ishida, and my ex-coworker, Edano. Seeing those two listed as my “friends” gave me the creeps. I removed them at once and allowed myself a slow grin.

At first, I had planned to sneak into those high school punks’ homes and physically take back the thirty-million-yen scratch ticket, but now I would not need to.

.

Yoshioka Mitsuki

Suzuki Nozomi

Aoyama Kanau

Minato Mirai

Endo Noemu

.

At some point, their names had been added to my Friend List. Those same brats who beat me up and stole my wallet and scratch tickets. Their very names carried the meaning: Dream, Hope, Future. They had great names, really. Too bad none of those futures would be bright after what they did to me.

I tapped Yoshioka Mitsuki.

.

【Player Name】 Yoshioka Mitsuki

【Location】 Nishi-Kasai, Edogawa-ku, Tokyo ○-☆

【Tradeable Items】 Scratch tickets, Clothing, Smartphone

.

I had not expected to see info this detailed. DW never had this.

Smiling, I closed the menu, stepped out to the drink bar, and brewed a cup of drip coffee; these machines had gotten good. I took a newspaper from the rack, returned to my booth, and leaned back.

One sip of freshly ground coffee filled my mouth and sinuses with a rich aroma balanced between sweetness and bitterness.

“Delicious.”

Fresh-ground beans beat instant coffee by a mile.

Setting the cup down, I reopened the Friend List.

I put a ¥300-winner scratch ticket into Item Storage, tapped Yoshioka Mitsuki, and hit Propose Item Trade.

As the offered item I chose the ¥300 winner; as the requested item I specified the ¥30,000,000 winner.

A moment later, “Trade Complete” flashed on the menu.

“Heh… worked like a charm.”

I pulled the freshly traded thirty-million-yen scratch ticket from Item Storage and grinned.

This was that once-infamous DW bug: Forced Trade. For a time, it had ravaged the game, swapping people’s prized gear for junk. After a flood of complaints, the devs rolled the servers back and snuffed it out. Apparently, in the real world, it still functioned.

“Though judging by the ‘Tradeable Items’ list, it only targets what someone is currently carrying…”

Lucky for me, they kept the card on their person; I would not need a break-in after all.

Of course they did. If you set down a thirty-million-yen scratch ticket and lose it, you are done. Thanks to that caution, I got it back without ever leaving my chair.

“All right. Objective complete.”

Tomorrow I will file a police report. While I was out, I might as well visit the Labor Standards Inspection Office too. Time to help the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare add Amazing Corporation to its blacklist.

Chuckling to myself, I skimmed the newspaper, and an article headline jumped out: “Global Wave of Disappearances! Over 1,000 Missing in Tokyo!” It said that this afternoon, police departments (or equivalent agencies) worldwide had received a flood of missing-person reports. Over a thousand in Tokyo alone. What a scary world we live in.

“Not my problem,” I muttered, pulling my headgear from Item Storage, powering it on, and fitting it snugly.

By now, the crew should be logging in.

Those “crew” were the buddies I had played DW with for five years. All regular nine-to-six folks. At this hour, they were always online.

“—Connect: Different World.”

Muttering this, I dove into the world of ‘Different World’.

Upon login, I appeared at the Transfer Gate “Yggdrasil.” I opened the menu and checked my friends’ status.

Every name was greyed out.

Grey meant logged out.

“What? Nobody’s on…?”

I had a lot to talk about. It couldn’t be helped. They’re probably working overtime, overtime, overtime. Office life.

“Fine. I’ll pick up a quest until they show up.”

I headed for the Adventurers’ Guild.

The Guild spanned the Central Kingdom, the Ligion Empire, and the Midgard Holy Nation, with a branch in every major city, including the royal capital here. You could accept Daily Missions and quests, or post requests for items you could not obtain at your level. Requests were ranked D to S; you needed Player Rank S to take an S-rank request.

“There it is.”

A banner with two crossed swords backed by Yggdrasil’s boughs, the home of the Adventurers’ Guild.

The mission list rotated with the seasons, and some items were only obtainable here. What would they have for me today—

“Bwup!?”

I smacked straight into the door.

It usually opened automatically. Weird.

I took the handle and went inside the old-fashioned way, and spotted a familiar face.

Kyle the Mage. Muscled like a brawler, skin tanned like he lived at a salon. Calling him “mage” always felt like a joke; he looked like a frontline warrior to me.

Kyle was at the Guild’s tavern, chugging beer.

Food and drink in DW did nothing besides restore HP. No taste, no smell, just vibes. Alcohol even inflicted the “Intoxicated” debuff if you overdid it. In other words: zero point.

He would know that. So why—

“Kyle, that you? Since when do you drink in here?”

He looked up, face flushed.

“…Kakeru? What do you mean ‘since when’? There’s nothing to do in this world. We got transferred here, remember?”

“…Huh? What are you talking about?”

He gave me a look of disbelief.

“Haah… so you’re one of the Transfer Group too…”

“Transfer… group?”

What was this, a new troupe, like the Takarazuka Flower Troupe or Moon Troupe?

Kyle tipped his glass and grumbled.

“The people celebrating getting ‘transferred’ to this world. Why are they happy? I just bought a house in real life. And they’re cheering that we can’t log out? Screw that! My cute wife is waiting for me!”

Can’t log out?

I had no idea what he was on about. Probably the alcohol.

Food here had no flavor; he must have been drinking in reality and then logged in. You saw that sometimes.

“That sounds rough.”

When in doubt, offer that line.

“…Yeah, rough! Why… why did it have to come to this…?”

Whatever it was, he had it bad in real life.

“Being unable to see your wife must be hard.”

I also learned, for the first time, that Kyle was married.

“Yeah. Mary is… Mary’s waiting for me…”

“Mary? That’s a lovely name.”

It sounded like a heroine’s name. Familiar, somehow.

“We finally—finally filed the marriage certificates last month… this is a joke.”

“I see…”

“Just tap the logout button” did not feel like advice he could hear right now. I took the seat beside him and let him vent.