Evening Game
Chapter 16

“Come on, wake up!”

By the time morning came, the first thing Ethan felt was someone pulling his right foot.

“Huh?”

Ethan felt his eyes heavy, refusing to open. He suddenly lost the feeling of the bed below him, replaced by the sensation of a hard, cold floor.

“Urgh!”

He felt his back hurt from the drop. He forced his eyes open, finding Fiona in front of him, the room’s door opened.

“What are you doing here?”

This would be the first time in a long while her sister ever forced herself into his room.

“How dare you make a girl wait for you!”

She said angrily before storming out of the room. Ethan was in a complete loss. He walked out of the room, his right hand holding onto his back which still hurt. He turned toward the living room, finding a familiar face sitting on his living room sofa. He tensed up when he saw her. Noticing his presence, she turned her face toward him and flashed him a friendly smile.

“Good morning, Ethan.”

“Wh- what- what are you doing here?”

He asked. He remembered something and swiftly looked down. He felt gracious to his past self who decided to wear something appropriate before entering the game.

“You haven’t read the text I sent… so…”

Ethan turned around and rushed back into his bedroom. He opened his smartphone and checked the notifications. Hidden under some unimportant notifications was Chione’s message. He opened it and read the contents. He slowly stepped back to the living room.

“Please wait.”

Ethan sat beside Chione as the bus sped toward its next destination. Few people occupied the vehicle other than them. Ethan glued his eyes toward the seat in front of him, Chione who sat beside him looked out the windows while swinging her feet back and forth cheerfully. She didn’t say much, other than saying some small talk.

“Ah, that’s a cute car.”

Chione pointed toward a small, pink car with some stickers on it. Ethan glanced at it briefly and returned his eyes to the seat in front of him.

“Yeah… you’re right…”

Chione leaned back, her red eyes switching targets to him.

“What do you want to eat?”

“I’m fine with anything… I think.”

He had some things he disliked, but he didn’t feel like saying them. His mind was spinning faster than this bus’ wheels. Chione had just invited him on an outing, after all. It came out of the blue, and since he didn’t reply the night before, she decided to just appear on his doorstep.

Her adding Kennard as a friend suddenly made sense.

As to why she did that…

Ethan failed to bring up any reason for her to invite him here. The only reason he could think of was because she wanted his help in tackling the tower, but even that felt weirdly distant. Surely there were a lot of other possible players that she could ask for help with, right? It didn’t need to be Ethan. Heck, if they managed to gather enough players, she probably wouldn’t need high-level players to begin with.

So why, out of all the things she could do to push herself closer to her goal, she chose to be here with him? He wanted to ask, but he was here as his real-life self. Making a mistake here would have fatal consequences, and unlike in the game where the worst thing would be them parting ways, things could be way more dangerous in real life. The game had reduced pain feelings, someone having their hand sliced off in combat would in most feel a slight discomfort. The same thing couldn’t be said here, where a simple slap could leave his cheeks hurting for minutes.

Chione didn’t say much, so he couldn’t exactly tell what she was thinking. She didn’t strike him as the silent type, at least not in real life. The differences between her here and her in-game made me wonder even more.

Just who is she?

They had known each other for two months, occasionally getting involved in group assignments, and they played together for nearly a week at this point, but he failed to answer that question. Which side of hers is the real Chione? It was a question that he could ask himself. Which side of him was the real Ethan? Was it the silent Ethan in school that still smiled despite being insulted? That still answered those who bullied him? With the single exception of that nickname. Was that the real him?

Or was it the cold, emotionless, skilled and powerful FireRock? Who didn’t say more than what he himself deemed necessary, but also wasn’t afraid to demand an answer when he wanted. Was that the real him?

Or was it a combination of both? Were both sides the real him? Was his virtual game avatar an illusion this entire time? If FireRock was the real him, why did he continue playing with Chione? If that cold him was his real self, why didn’t he discard her?

“Ethan, come on.”

At some point, the bus had stopped. Chione grabbed his hand and dragged him off. He was naturally flustered by this, but he couldn’t find the strength to rip his hand off, instead, he let Chione lead him around. Still holding his hand, she brought him into a shopping mall. She finally released him when they passed security and entered the building.

“What are you looking for?”

He asked. Chione’s eyes looked around the row of stores that occupied the mall.

“I need some school supplies, and maybe some new clothes… make-up, maybe?”

It was something she clearly didn’t need his opinions for, so why? It felt like her true reasoning was something simple, really simple, so simple to the point he would absolutely laugh at himself for not realizing it, but he couldn’t get his head to find the answer. Nothing popped up, so he simply followed her. He walked behind Chione, but Chione realized and slowed the pace, walking side-by-side with him.

It felt like a date.

“Umm…”

He tried to say something, feeling the awkward atmosphere over them. He glanced at Chione, but it looked like she wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She skipped lightly across the floor, a smile on her face. She hummed a tune, it was too faint for Ethan to recognize what song it was.

Ethan eventually decided to stop thinking. She invited him here. Not Mason, not Calista, not even FireRock, but him, Ethan. She must have a good reason for doing it, and whatever it was, he would eventually find out.

He let out a thin smile. He never expected he would interact with her like this. That day, when he saw her for the first time and asked about her in school, when she denied him, he thought everything would end there.

He couldn’t say he minded the silence, either. They had always been like that, both in-game and in school, saying not much more than necessary, and maybe the occasional small talk. It was never awkward, it was comfortable even, so he didn’t need to make it awkward. All he needed to do was to trust her and follow her around.

“What do you think?”

The first destination would be the bookstore. Chione looked around holding a shopping bag. She took a pink colored pen and held it up in front of Ethan’s eyes. Ethan took it and examined it. The pink pen had a simple design to it, only a long thin line with a cap on top.

“I think it looks elegant.”

“... Elegant?”

“Simple, barebone, does the job right.”

“I’m not sure elegant is the right word…”

“Me neither.”

But that was how it felt to him. The pen had no decorations, with the exception of the name engraved in white on the side. The insides didn’t have springs or any weird mechanisms, either. It was inherently simple, some ink inside a tube with a ballpoint tip on the end, covered by a protective casing. It was a pen, in the most basic form.

Yet something about its simplicity felt alluring to him. He couldn’t explain it, though.

“How about you, do you like it?”

Ethan asked. It was her equipment, after all. For him, what she used didn’t matter, as long as she felt comfortable using it. His words prompted her to look back at the pen in her palm.

“I think these pens are reliable.”

“Maybe because it’s that simple.”

Fewer parts mean less likelihood of something breaking. It affected the most complex machines, but also the simplest tools. It was the weakness of the pens that had springs in them. If the spring went missing or the pump on the end didn’t work, their writing would get much harder.

She stuffed the pen into her shopping bag and continued going around.

“Do you need me to carry that?”

He asked. Chione shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Ah, correction tape.”

One of the shelves had a line of correction tape neatly arranged, displaying a variety of colors, sizes, and shapes.

“Which one do you think works best?”

The same principle of fewer parts means better reliability applied to correction tapes as well.

“I prefer the smaller ones.”

The problem with correction tape was that if one part broke, using the rest would be a struggle. In the worst-case scenario, with ballpoint pens you could replace the case that protected the ink tube, the same couldn’t be said with correction tapes. If one part broke and stopped working, a painful repair process would be needed to get it working again. He had so much experience with them that he lost count.

As to why he didn’t use a correction pen instead, it was a matter of personal preferences. For one, he disliked the idea of a liquid shaking back and forth inside his pencil case. Some teachers banned their use as well.

He took one of the correction tapes and showed it to Chione.

“My personal favorite.”

Chione took it into her hand and examined it. The one he offered had a spinner on the main wheel, in case he needed to spin the tape’s spinner. It was not too big but not too small either, roughly half the size of his palm.

“Alright.”

She put it into her bag.

“Is that all?”

“I think.”

Chione turned and headed to the cashier to pay while Ethan stayed around to look at the correction tapes. He spotted a pink one hiding away in the corner and took it. It had a rather cute design, its size slightly larger than the previous one.

… This is cute.

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