The celebrations continued in the tavern. Some allies, not noticing what was happening, fell asleep on the floor, forgetting about the holiday. Sato remained sitting, absorbed in his own thoughts, as if he didn't know what he was feeling. Nothing seemed to have changed, but something in the air made him think. He tried to figure out what exactly it was, but it all remained too unclear, especially since the more he tried to figure it out, the more curious he became.
When her image finally disappeared into the white light of the exit, Sato's expression changed. His eyes darkened, all the old innocence disappeared, and his lips twitched slightly in a barely noticeable smile.
"Goodbye? You'll never get far from me, sweetheart," he thought, but it wasn't an expression of regret. It was a challenge. He turned back to his glass, his allies continued to make noise, but for Sato, this evening had already lost all value.
There was another person sitting on the other side of the room in the real world. A young guy, about twenty years old, with tired eyes and dark bags under his eyes. He took off his headphones and looked at the screen, where Scarlet's avatar was still flickering in the game menu. He sighed, as if relieved, and then, with a barely noticeable laugh, he said:
"Scarlet.".. I don't even know how you got used to this role. The time has come, right?
He stretched and stood up, his body creaking pitifully, but the guy just grinned, continuing to look at the screen, where her avatar was still connected. There was something nagging inside, something elusive that wouldn't let go.
"All of it... It's not as easy as it sounds," he said softly, as if to himself. The state of emptiness was familiar, but it came in a different way each time.
Opening the refrigerator, the guy took out the juice, returned to the chair and sat down again. I turned on the replay recording of the finale. It wasn't particularly important to him. The match was over, but it bothered me. The important thing was the feeling inside that wouldn't let go. Emptiness.
The light from the screen flooded the room like moonlight, only adding to the gloomy atmosphere. Rick, a skinny guy with an eternal mess on the table and a disheveled hairstyle, leaned back in his chair, as if trying to hide in its soft cushions. His fingers automatically reached out to his dark hair, smoothing it, but even this movement did not bring relief. The message was still blinking on the screen.: "You are logged out."
—Ha,— he exhaled shortly, leaning back in his chair. — I'm already starting to forget my own name because of this game.
Her lips parted in a faint smile, but she was more tired than happy.
—Rick, Rick... I need to remind myself of who I really am," he muttered almost automatically, looking down at his hands, still clutching the mouse tightly, as if it were his only link to this world.
Leaning back in his chair, Rick rubbed his eyes, but the tiredness did not disappear. How much time has passed? Weeks? Months? Everything got mixed up in one endless wait. Scarlet's voice, her habits, all became a part of him, almost indistinguishable from his own personality. It wasn't just a game. It was something else.
—Exactly,— he said a little louder, as if trying to break out of his thoughts. "I'm tired of pretending to be a woman. I'm a man after all! - after thinking a bit, though, on the other hand, what kind of man is given so many buns? Ha-ha.
He grinned, glancing at the screen where Scarlet's avatar was still glowing. Her perfect facial features, soft eyes, and confident posture against the background of her gaming profile gave off a strange feeling. Something between pride in her created image and mild annoyance.
"Yes, Scarlet, you're good. How many people have you fooled with your pretty face? Skins, diamonds... How many naive players have you tricked by promising something that doesn't even exist? Rick liked to talk to himself a lot, he chuckled as he opened his inventory. Rare items, premium armor, and exclusive effects were all the result of his hard work. Or, more precisely, manipulation of other people's expectations and desires.
Rick twirled the can of juice in his hand, then took a long drink, as if the gesture could bring back his sense of reality.
"But that's too much, isn't it?" — he muttered, as if addressing the avatar on the screen. — People are willing to pay for attention, for a fictional image. And I... I became just another part of that illusion. Rick ran a hand over his face, wiping away the fatigue accumulated over the long hours spent in front of the monitor. His eyes burned from the light of the screen, and his thoughts were confused, but a sudden blink on the second monitor brought his attention back. He automatically clicked the mouse, opening a new notification. A name appeared on the screen that sent a chill down Rick's spine: "Rick_silen."
It was his old account. His real image in virtual reality. The man is a murderer, the man he once was. A character whose name inspired respect and fear. This nickname had left its mark on the history of the game, but now it was abandoned, left in the past, like a forgotten chapter of his life.
Rick held his breath, looking at the message. His hand hovered over the mouse for a moment. The message was simple and standard: "Return to the game and you will receive exclusive bonuses for your character!"
Rick leaned back in his chair with an effort, staring at the screen.
"Buns, then.".. He chuckled, but it sounded nervous.
He even wondered what these bonuses were. Perhaps it was just another marketing ploy by the company to win back the players. However, there was something more behind the simple sentence. It was an invitation... Or a challenge?
His gaze shifted to the other window, where the Scarlet game was still open. Snow—white hair, perfect features, light armor-everything looked perfect, but now it looked like a fake showcase.
"You're my mask,— Rick said softly, looking at the screen with Scarlet. "And he was me."
Rick looked back at the letter. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. It was a temptation that was hard to give up.
—Okay, that's enough. His voice was firm, but his lips twitched in a faint smile, betraying his hesitation. — It's time to go back. Let's play for ourselves.
Rick opened the account selection window, but his hand paused on the mouse for a moment. He felt a strange regret, as if he was losing something important. Scarlet wasn't just an image. She was his creation. Her strength, charisma, popularity—all this became a part of him, and he became a part of her.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For a moment, the silence of the room seemed deafening.
"Maybe I just like being someone else," he whispered, as if making a confession to himself. His voice was barely audible, as if he didn't want to say the words out loud. — To be someone who can pretend, lie... and still stay on top.
Rick smiled, barely noticeably, but his gaze became firmer.
"Let's see who I really am," he said, returning the cursor to the name "Rick_silen." "Or who I want to be this time."
"Last game of the day," he muttered, already ready to press the account switch button. But somewhere deep inside I knew it was a lie. Today won't be the last time.
His gaze accidentally fell on a small shiny object lying next to the keyboard. A voice synthesizer. A small device that was his secret and the key to creating the illusion. Rick reached out, pressed a button, and a quiet, almost imperceptible signal announced that the program was turned off. The artificial female voice that had convinced, manipulated, and charmed so many times faded away, giving way to absolute silence.
"That's it, Scarlet,— he said in his real voice, low and slightly hoarse. "You won't be needed anymore today.
He pushed the device to the edge of the table, as if trying to get it out of sight. But it didn't help. His gaze returned to the screen anyway, where Scarlet's avatar was flickering on another monitor. Her face, filled with soft confidence, looked straight at him. The smile seemed almost real, the eyes full of life.
"And yet, how easy it is to deceive people," he laughed softly, feeling a strange mixture of pride, fatigue, and even shame. Even though he felt sorry for Satou in his heart
Every memory of him speaking in that voice came back one after another. Rick remembered how many times he had honed his tone, chosen intonations, created images and speeches to sound like a real, confident girl. It was all a theater where he was the main actor, invisible to the audience.
"Scarlet.".. — he whispered, as if addressing a living person. "You were perfect." So perfect that I almost believed it myself.
— How many times have I told myself that this is just a game? — he said, looking at the dim reflection of his tired eyes in the screen. — But it's not just a game. This is an opportunity. The opportunity to become someone I've never been... or who I'll never be.
Rick slowly switched accounts. Instead of Scarlet's sophisticated appearance, the stern face of his old avatar appeared on the screen: Rick_silen. The black cloak, the sharpened daggers, the scarred face—it all seemed so alien and far away that he barely recognized his character.
"The real me, huh?" He smiled bitterly, running his fingers over the keyboard. But what does "real" mean?
Rick shifted his gaze to the second monitor. Scarlet's avatar was still there, like a reminder. Her radiant smile and the confidence in her eyes cut him from the inside out. She was so alive that she seemed real. More real than he was.
—Funny,— he whispered, smiling bitterly. — You have achieved something that I could not even dream of.
He automatically reached for the voice synthesizer and picked it up. The cold metal felt unusually heavy, as if it held not just a device, but the key to its own double life. He stared at it for a moment, thinking, and then carefully placed it on the table. The synthesizer seemed to be waiting to be turned on again.
"Maybe that's the whole me?" — he muttered, with a strangled laugh. — Hide behind a mask, use someone else's voice, receive rewards for a fictional life... It's not just a game. It's... me.
"What if I've already forgotten who I really am?" "What is it?" he whispered, as if he was afraid to say it louder.