Chapter 11 – Deals, Friends, and Mornings

The trading district pulsed like a thousand neon veins, each stall and data-terminal flickering with offers, requests, and scams. Yen moved through the crowd with a backpack weighed down by medical tech part clusters—valuable, but not what he needed right now.

He was after tech scrap clusters, the only resource that could get his case repaired and finally put to use by the employees waiting on him. The stalls hummed with chatter, holographic signs flashing numbers and ratios. He kept his face calm, his movements precise. In the trade hubs, showing excitement was a weakness.

That’s when he met him—HolySlap, a player with mirrored shades coded right into his avatar. His voice was smooth, confident.
“Got clusters to move?” HolySlap asked, scanning Yen’s inventory tags.
“Medical tech parts,” Yen replied. “Plenty of them.”

They went back and forth, tossing ratios like cards across the table. Small deals went through easily, with both sides smiling at the profits. But when Yen tried to move larger stacks, HolySlap leaned back, lips curling.
“Not worth it,” he said. “You’re better off finding someone desperate.”
Yen smirked. “Maybe I will. If I don’t get a better deal, I’ll ping you.”

And with that, they left it at that—unfinished business.

Moments later, Yen stumbled into something better. A mid-level trader wanted yellow backpacks, of all things. Yen unloaded a couple from his stash, and the man eagerly handed him 41 medical tech part clusters in return. Yen’s eyes widened. That was a steal—the kind of trade that felt like a cheat code.

The rush of victory hadn’t even faded when another surprise hit. Sun, his old rival and friend, appeared in the hub with a grin plastered across his face. Without a word, he opened a trade window and dropped in an item glowing with a faint purple aura.

Epic Helmet [Lv.5].

It wasn’t high level. In fact, it was practically useless for someone at Yen’s standing. But it didn’t matter—this was his first epic drop ever, and more importantly, it was a gift from Sun. Yen accepted it with a half-smile, feeling something heavy unclench in his chest.
“Don’t lose it,” Sun teased.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yen said.

Logging out felt natural after that. His inventory was heavier, but his heart was lighter.

Outside of CCO, the room was dark. Yen woke at 3 a.m., headphones still clamped over his ears, music whispering into the silence. The ceiling fan spun lazily. His body ached, and that familiar fog of sadness pressed down on him. Nights like these were the hardest—dreams and reality blurred, and the emptiness of the room reminded him of everything he carried in silence.

He lay there for an hour, listening to songs that cut too deep, until the weight finally forced him out of bed. His reflection in the mirror was pale, eyes red from both grinding and grief. He didn’t bother hiding it. He just let the music play and survived the night.

But the next morning was different.

The sun cut through his window like a blade, scattering gold across the sheets. Yen woke up with a sudden clarity—energy humming in his bones. He brewed himself a strong coffee, steam curling against the morning air. He stretched, pushed himself through a short workout, then dropped into meditation until his pulse slowed into rhythm. By the time he was done, he wasn’t the broken kid from 3 a.m.—he was alive again.

And he had a plan.

Pulling on his hoodie, he bolted out of his apartment and ran down the quiet streets, sneakers smacking pavement. When he reached the familiar door, he rang the bell with a grin he hadn’t worn in weeks.

The door swung open to reveal his friends: Demigod and Void Demon. Both laughed at his breathless state, and Yen just shoved his hands into his pockets, grinning wider.
“Suit up,” he said. “We’re playing tonight.”

The coincidence was surreal—they were both already part of the same cybernetic world. Demigod, already in Yen’s gang, and Void Demon, curious but eager, both logged into CCO alongside him that night. Yen introduced them to Void Angel, the player he’d met days earlier. Demigod and Void Angel clicked instantly, both sitting in the level 40–50 range. They ran dungeons together, sharing loot, laughing at close calls, while Yen—at level 142—mostly watched with pride.

For the first time, Yen felt something different: connection. It wasn’t just NPCs, or trades, or rivalries anymore. It was real friends, from his real life, standing beside him in this other dimension.

The next morning, Yen woke again—but not at 3 a.m., not under a cloud. He woke with purpose. He stretched, drank his coffee, meditated, then jogged over to his friends’ place. Bursting into their laughter, he felt it again—the truth that both worlds, real and cyber, were starting to overlap.

For once, he didn’t dread the days ahead. He looked forward to them.