Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

<<Day 7, Floor 1>>

Numbing… heavy… chilly.

Whipping sensations that lashed simultaneously at every virtual receptor in my moment of rousing consciousness. The lethargy circulating around my system tempting me back to the loving embrace of slumber.

It was a good sleep. Wish life was always a good sleep.

But alas, happiness is a dying concept in this dystopia we call our lives.

So after coming to terms with the fact that the concept of joy is merely a fabricated construct of human perception to better cope with our perpetual existence of eternal damnation, I finally raised my heavy eyelids to greet whatever the hell there is to greet me, I don't know, I'm sleepy.

An unsettling pitch darkness void of both sight and sound surrounded me.

What, did my inner thoughts distort the very fabric of reality or something? The hell's up with this black limbo I've suddenly entered?

"It's just night, don't need to fret about so much," spoke a voice amidst the blackness of purgatory.

"SHIT!"

I felt my heart skyrocket up into my throat. A spastic jerk of multiple actions was taken. I tried to equip a weapon, while also attempting to scramble upright. At the same time, my body recoiled backward.

Too many commands. Brain does not compute. Error! Error! System overload!

So yeah, I guess I'm on the floor now.

That hurt. Falling down hurts, who knew?

I felt the coarseness of the wooden floor graze my palm. I saw at my side a chair that had been toppled over, an unfortunate victim of my "mild" panic attack. Then from above, a voice sounded out loud, the tone in an ominous quiver.

"Ooooo ~~ I'm a ghost ~~ ooooo ~~ be afraid, be very afraid."

I shot my arm upward.

I did not know why I did that, I was probably still braindead and acting on autopilot. But immediately afterward, I both heard and felt the resounding slap that dispersed around the skin of my palm.

A high-pitch yelp followed by a sudden, awkward silence.

"And you slapped me in the face."

Only then did it dawn on the cogs turning in my teeny, tiny, excuse of a brain, to send the belated reminder that I wasn't alone in the inn when I fell asleep.

I could feel Arishia's warm breath filtering through the slits between my fingers.

"Oh yeah, you're here… right," I stared at the infinite abyss that fronted me, gradually reclaiming my sense of self. A cold realization subtly creeping in on the gravity of my actions.

It's only been a week and I've already physically assaulted another player. This game does things to you, man.

It just occurred to me that I should probably justify the fact that I just erroneously slammed my hand onto her face.

I only wish I could have done so when my cognitive functions aren't running on fumes because the best excuse I came up with on the spot was: "My bad, but I'm gonna be completely honest with you - kinda forgot you even existed."

She exhaled heavily.

How did I know? Cause for reasons unknown even to me, I still had my hand stuck to her face like some kind of leech with tendrils.

Or a starfish. Starfish's a better term.

"So I've noticed," She said, prying herself loose from my clutches. "I've also noticed you don't play nice when you're waking up."

I withdrew my hand back, a sheepish grin forming in spite of myself, "You could tell, huh? What gave it away?"

No reaction. Instead, just the shuffling of feet growing further from discernibility.

"Your holy knight is still off on his crusade in case you're wondering."

A statement that brought events that transpired recently to the forefront of my mind still in the process of rebooting. Slept mid-afternoon, and judging from the potency of the darkness, it's probably the dead of night right now and Tayuma still ain't back yet. That does not bode well.

A glowing ethereal pure white box met my misty eyes as I gestured open the menu screen. I tapped once on the friends list to see the one and only slate inscribed with his name among dozens of empty slots.

"Still fighting. Still alive at least, some good news," I muttered, groggily rubbing my left eye. "Player count stopped decreasing yet?"

"Hard to tell," said the disembodied voice, swaying audibly as it moved around the place. "Ceiling isn't exactly transparent."

"So go outside?"

"I'll pass, thank you."

Oh yeah, nearly forgotten how aggravating this woman can be. Must have the patience of Buddha for this one.

I got to my feet, eyeing the darkness where she lurked with annoyance and began stumbling my way over to the exit. If you want something done, do it yourself.

Then for the second time within a span of two minutes, another loud slam reverberated throughout the vicinity. This time, however, I was the one subjected to pain. The throbbing in my forehead had one hand subsiding the ouchy swelling in intensity.

What gives? I don't remember sleeping this close to a wall when I drifted off.

I placed my other hand onto the hard surface and started trailing its rugged texture to the other end of the room.

Five steps. Not even big steps. Halted again by another wall.

The digital synapses in my brain began firing away like a box of fireworks, sensing at once the abnormality that blasted itself to disclosure.

I turned to the darkness behind me once again, almost sensing the malevolent gaze harboring from within.

"No windows," I said, feigning nonchalance. "Knew it was too dark, even for nightfall." I tapped on the wall. "And is it just me, or is everything way more smaller than I remember? I may still be half-asleep but I can say for certain, I ain't supposed to be reaching this part of the inn yet.

Her silky voice weaved through the air, as did a tension that oozed with her words, "Well… whatever could all of that mean, I wonder?"

"Where am I?" I asked bluntly, establishing firm that I was not to be tested.

"Bingo, you catch on quick," Arishia said mischievously. "Why don't you take another well-educated guess then, Sherlock?"

"Listen here, you. I'm done playing along with your games. Cut the shit - tell me where I am."

"Oh, it's quite elementary, my dear boy. But first, how about some sunshine, hmm? Give it a try. Just say-"

I finally snapped. "Do I look like I'm in the mood?!"

She made a noise, a sort of half-sigh that implied displeasure. "Could have just said 'please', I'd have happily done it for you. Now I'm just sad."

I heard her heave a heavy breath.

"System Command: Set brightness level from zero to fifty percent output."

A firm echo that bounced around the compact space. I stood there in bewildering wonder at just what in the holy hell was she trying to accomplish with that shout.

But I didn't have to wonder too much. The walls answered for me.

A brightening of pure white gradually filled its textureless surface, all four corners of the room radiating a dim luminescent glow, revealing firstly the absolute emptiness contained within.

A modest space, as big as a bedroom, except unlike a bedroom, it was anything but a sight of normalcy. Two chairs placed in the middle - one toppled over, mine, the other chair directly fronting it. Hers.

Vacant white, with a step forward. Vacant white, as far as the eye could see. There, with an aloof display of relaxation, she stood across from me, her stark crimson colors in sharp opposition to the straining white of everything else.

That damn know-it-all expression smeared her face once more.

The floodgates in my head burst at the seams, a tidal wave of endless questions started climbing the tip of my tongue, but all that came out was the sound of utter confusion.

"What the… where did… but how-"

"Yeah, thought it'd be best to slowly ease you into it, and I guessed right. Imagine waking up in such a brightly lit space that just screams of claustrophobia, you'd have freak more than you already have."

That wasn't the answer I was looking for and it was plain to see.

"How did you get me here?" I said, finally reacquiring some comprehensibility.

"Well it wasn't easy, I'll tell you that. You're heavier than you look, I expected some resistance, but you sleep heavy. Muttered in your sleep a few times on the way over here but that's about it - bit adorable, really."

The mental image of her carrying me over her shoulder like some kind of wooden log would have been an amusing picture if I weren't so agitated by the situation.

"And just where is 'here' exactly?" I growled, eying the white cell with unease.

"It's my super ultra-secret precious hideout of ultimate secrecy," Arishia explained, and upon seeing the blankness of my expression, added promptly, "But you can call it the developer room if you like."

"Wait, hold up - the developer room?" My jaw nearly fell to the floor, shock overruling anger in a sudden flash. "How did you-"

"Oh, you know," She began, brushing away her hand in indifference. "Just clip through some walls here, skip along some invisible platforms there, guess yourself through the glitchy spots and voila! A little piece of heaven to call your own."

Next question was up, and it was an inevitable one.

"Okay so, why did you feel the need to bring me all the way in here?"

She took a small step forward. "You know Sora, you're not a very easy person to find. Not easy, at all."

Gut feeling had me taking a cautious step back, wariness gripping my senses. A movement that did not go unnoticed by her, a smile widening.

"Spent days hunting you down… what a stroke of luck it was that you just came wandering to me like a meal on a silver platter."

"Well, I'm glad something worked out here for someone," I said, confused, uneasy but also alarmed. Something tells me she wasn't exactly looking for my autograph, "That doesn't answer the question still."

I saw her eyes flicker away from my own, upward to the label above me, she spoke again, "You're hiding your level."

I gulped. "So are you."

She stopped her advancing, halted beside the chair standing upright. "Tayuma doesn't know, does he?" Another knowing smile a dazzle in the fluorescent light. "Don't have the heart to tell him? Scared that he will look at you the same way all the others do? You know he'll blame you, because everyone eventually does, don't they? And deep inside, you don't want that."

Cold realization struck me in an instant. The red of her eyes, the tightening of her lips - simmering anger internalized beyond that simple smile.

"65,000 people watched that stream that day," She said softly, her gaze sharp. "Those 65,000 saw you there, saw your hesitation, your patheticness, too little too late to prevent it all. 65,000 people found the one person who was at fault that day."

With a swipe through her menu, a sword materialized in her grasp.

"And so did I."