Michael stared at his phone screen, breath caught in his throat.
The forest around Aiko swayed gently now, moonlight filtering through leaves as she crouched behind a boulder, listening for pursuers.
Every detail—the dirt smeared on her knees, the way her matted hair stuck to her sweaty neck, even the faint tremor in her hands—looked real. Not "good graphics" real. Not "impressive rendering" real.
Actual real.
He zoomed in. Aiko's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths creating tiny puffs of vapor in the cold night air. When she turned her head, the moonlight caught a thin scar on her jawline he'd never noticed before.
"Impossible," he muttered.
This wasn't just a game. No mobile app could process this much detail this fast. No server could generate dialogue that fluid, that human.
He'd played AAA titles with billion-dollar budgets—games where you could count individual hairs on a character's head—but none of them made his palms sweat like this. None of them made him forget to blink.
But there it was—Aiko, collapsing against a tree trunk miles deep in the woods, her chest heaving. No health bar. No glowing waypoints. Just a girl shaking with adrenaline, her fingers digging into moss as she listened for pursuers.
The game's interface was disturbingly simple. No cluttered menus. No tutorials. Just a small icon in the corner showing Aiko's status:
Michael tapped it.
The screen blurred slightly, then sharpened to show Aiko's face in startling detail. Dirt smudged her cheek. A scratch on her collarbone oozed a thin line of blood.
"Kami-sama?"
The word lodged in Aiko's throat. This god—if it even was a god—had saved her. But why?
Divine beings didn't meddle in human affairs without demanding something in return. Her father had taught her that much before her life became this ruinous mess.
She wiped dirt from her face and knelt on the mossy ground. The torn silk of her undergarments fluttered in the breeze, exposing her legs.
"Kami-sama?" She bowed her head, palms flat against the earth. "I… I don't know how to thank you. You saved me. But…" Her voice cracked. "What do you want from me?"
No answer.
"I have nothing left," she said, louder now. "No gold. No status. My name is ashes. But my body—" Her voice faltered. She straightened, hands trembling as she gripped the torn edges of her undergarments. "If you wish to claim me, I… I won't resist."
She shut her eyes, waiting for the touch. For the desire all powerful men and beings eventually showed.
Nothing happened.
When she dared to peek, the forest remained unchanged. No phantom hands. No mocking laughter. Just the chill of night air on her exposed skin.
A dialogue box popped up:
[Respond?]
[A: Yes]
[B: No]
Michael stared at his phone, gut churning.
He tapped [A: Yes].
A new message popped up:
[ERROR! Companion Bond insufficient for vocal dialogue!]
[Current Bond Level: 18%]
"Bond Level?" Michael muttered. He poked the status icon in the corner.
[Minamoto Aiko - Bond Meter: 18%]
[Achieve 30% Bond to unlock basic communication!]
Beneath it, a progress bar glowed faintly. Instructions scrolled:
[Increase Bond by fulfilling Companion's needs!]
Michael groaned. More microtransactions.
Her status updated:
[Thirst: Moderate]
[Fatigue: Severe]
A new pop-up offered:
[Care Package - $29.99! Includes: Clean Water, Bedroll, Tent, Basic First Aid]
"You're not real," Michael told the phone.
Aiko sneezed.
At this point, Michael felt like he's just hats off to this game.
If a game had made everything to such amazing detail, then spending another 5 bucks won't be that bad. But his experience was that games tend to be great early-on and suck mid way thru, if that's the case, he's going to stop playing then.
But now, he's too alone, too invested, and too bored to not keep playing it.
If not this game, then he has to play something called "real life," and that is literally the very last thing he wants to put his minds on right now.
[$29.99 Charged!]
[Remaining Balance: $1,098.06]
Golden light flared onscreen.
Aiko stared at the items that had materialized before her—a leather waterskin, a rolled-up bedroll tied with twine, and a small wooden box. They sat neatly arranged on a patch of moss, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
She picked up the waterskin first, sniffing cautiously. When no strange odor hit her, she took a small sip. Cool, clean water washed over her tongue, soothing her parched throat. She drank greedily, water spilling down her chin.
Kami-sama provides, she thought, though confusion prickled at her. Why would a god bother with bandages and bedrolls?
Unrolling the bedroll, she found it thick and surprisingly soft, lined with wool. The forest floor was cold and damp, but this…this was fit for a noble's tent. Her fingers brushed the fabric—real, tangible. Not some illusion.
"Thank you," she whispered to the empty air, bowing her head. "I…I don't understand your kindness, but I accept it."
A notification blinked on Michael's phone:
[Bond Level Increased! 18% → 20%]
He let out a shaky breath. Five bucks well spent, he guessed. On screen, Aiko settled into the bedroll, wincing as she dabbed a cloth from the first-aid kit onto her scrapes. Her movements were cautious, like she expected the supplies to vanish any second.
This is nuts, Michael thought. Games didn't have characters who flinched when touching virtual bandages. His thumb hovered over the phone's sleep button, but he couldn't look away.
Aiko stared at the empty space where the bedroll lay. The forest around her was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves. Her body ached, her bare feet were scratched and dirty, and the torn remains of her clothes offered little warmth. She knelt beside the bedroll, running her fingers over the soft fabric.
"Kami-sama," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I don't understand."
As she spoke, the air around her shimmered. Golden light flickered like fireflies, swirling in a slow circle above the bedroll. Aiko scrambled backward, her heart racing. The light grew brighter, pulsating gently.
Then, with a soft whoosh, a tent materialized around her.