CHAPTER 290: THE VOID 3

"Alright, alright." I raised my hands in mock surrender. "If I need you, I’ll just call you at the information counter, right?"

"Correct. Glad to know that you’re not entirely clueless of the outside world."

"Of course not. Even though I’m a shut in I’m not ignorant to how things work." I cracked a grin again. "Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me—I’ve got stars to earn!"

And without waiting another second, I bolted straight toward the glowing sign of the Mission Department.

The place was enormous, like the quest board of an MMORPG cranked up to maximum. Screens floated in the air, each displaying a different mission—one with a burning city, another with a snowy wasteland, another with a haunted mansion crawling with shadows. Beside each mission was the difficulty rank, star reward, and "recommended party size."

"Now I could even form a party with the other hosts. At last, this felt like the true next stage—like stepping into a raid I’d been waiting for my whole life."

My heart thundered in my chest.

It was like walking into a gaming convention, except everything here was real. Every mission was another world to conquer. Another chance to prove myself. Another chance to win.

I didn’t even bother thinking about rest.

Rest was for losers.

I was too excited.

This was it.

It was like unlocking a new expansion pack—and I was ready to grind until I became the top player of this universe.

"Ofgh!" I almost lost my balance when someone bumped into me on the crowded street of the Void.

"Ah, sorry. I didn’t watch where I was going," a girl said quickly. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, and when I looked at her, she had this shy little smile. Sweet, innocent . . . like the type you’d expect to find in a flower shop, not in this crazy place.

I waved it off. "Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time."

She lifted her head just enough for me to meet her eyes—and that’s when I noticed it. Her smile was there, but behind it, a sadness lingered. Heavy. The kind of sadness that stuck to a person like wet clothes in the rain.

"You’re new here, aren’t you? This is the first time I’ve seen you."

I nodded, proud. "That’s right. I’m actually heading to the mission department right now to accept another storyline."

Her eyes blinked rapidly, and she glanced away, like my enthusiasm was hurting her. "Newbies are always so . . . energetic. I’m glad you’re full of energy."

Something in her tone made my ears perk up. I squinted. "Oh? Don’t tell me—you’re a veteran or something?"

My heart leapt. Jackpot. Maybe this was one of those top-ranking hosts I could look up on a leaderboard later and then crush with my inevitable rise to the top.

But instead of the smug pride I expected, she let out this bitter laugh that cracked in the middle. "Veteran? No . . . far from it. I only cleared twenty storylines. The rest . . . I failed them."

I frowned. "That’s fine, right? You can just try again."

Her head shook violently, strands of her hair flying like she wanted to shake the idea out of existence. "I can’t. I can’t be a host anymore."

"Egh? Why not?" My brows furrowed. Why would she quit such a fun and thrilling game? Can you even quit in the first place?

She looked at me then, and for the first time I saw her whole expression—the shimmer of tears threatening to spill, the trembling lips, the kind of face you made when you’d carried too much for too long.

"I can’t choose the villain all the time," she whispered, and her voice cracked like broken glass. "These games, these worlds . . . I just can’t do it anymore."

And before I could even think of what to say, she turned and ran. Just like that, gone.

I stood there like an idiot, staring at the space where she had been.

"Well . . . that was dramatic." I exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of my neck. "But I get it, kinda. Imagine falling in love with someone in every world . . . only to stab them in the back later because the rules said you had to pick the villain."

Lucian’s angry face flashed in my mind—those eyes that burned with betrayal, the way his voice spat venom at me when I sided against him. Even now, I could still feel the weight of his hatred clinging to me like chains.

Yeah . . . if you weren’t careful, this job could eat you alive.

But me? I grinned. "Good thing I don’t mix fantasy with reality."

For me, this was just another game. A game with rules, bosses, rewards, and rankings. As long as I kept it that way, I wasn’t going to lose my mind not my heart.

I guess being a hosts wasn’t for everyone.

Shoving the whole encounter into the back of my head, I finally made it to the mission department. And wow.

The place was buzzing like a convention center on day one. Hosts of every shape, size, and background filled the wide hall.

Some sat around at tables with glowing screens, discussing missions like raid strategists. Others browsed massive floating panels that listed available worlds, their ranks, and star rewards. The air was thick with excitement, tension, and the faint smell of coffee and . . . was that fried chicken?

But the best part? The diversity.

Humans. Elves. Something that looked like a lizard-man in a suit. And among the humans—every kind of gender, every identity you could imagine. Guys, girls, people in between, people beyond. Straight, gay, lesbian, bi—you name it, they were here. Nobody cared. The Void didn’t discriminate; if you could play, you could stay.

"Sweet," I muttered under my breath. "So it really is like an MMO lobby."

And that meant only one thing.

I cracked a grin, my gaming blood starting to boil with excitement. "Alright then. Time to pick my next mission. Preferably a Rank-S world."

Because hey—if you’re going to play, might as well aim for the top.