Chapter 2: His First Event

‘It was just a quiz night. But somehow, it felt like more than that—the first night our worlds began to overlap.’

Night had already fallen. 

After a quick shower, I slipped into bed, reaching for my phone where the game still ran quietly, waiting for me. Plugging in my earphones, I heard the familiar tone of a call connecting—his voice echoing softly on the other end.

「終わったの？」

(“Are you finished?”) he asked, as if he’d been waiting for me to complete my real-world tasks before returning to our little world.

“Yeah…” I replied shortly, glancing at the time. Barely five minutes left before the in-game quiz began.

“Do you see the countdown banner on your right?” I explained quickly. 

“It’s the next event — tonight’s a quiz. You just have to pick the right answer and tap it fast. The faster you tap, the more points you get.”

It had only been a few days since he’d started trying to blend into this world; tonight was his first time in the event.

「はい…okay」 

(“Yes, okay.”) he replied softly.

A moment of quiet passed between us, only the faint ambient sounds of our rooms filling the call, until the countdown reached zero.

“Enter,” I reminded him.

「はい〜」 

(“Okay,”) he answered, cheerful this time.

The event venue appeared on-screen, crowded with players from across the server. I guided my avatar far to the right, away from the main cluster.

A familiar figure approached me—his avatar. 

Standing close, as if trying to carve a small space for just the two of us. I could hear his faint giggle through the earphones, that shy sound I’d started to recognize.

The preparation phase ended, and the first question popped up. I read it quickly, tapped my answer, and muttered my choice under my breath for him.

“B.”

「ん!!」 

(“Unn.”) he replied shortly.

With each correct answer, the characters climbed a set of stairs—the more points gained, the higher the steps. Another question flashed. Another answer. Again and again. My character soared upward among the leading players, leaving most of the others behind.

But… his avatar wasn’t there.

Nearing the last few questions, I glanced at the call window and asked quietly..

“Where are you?”

“Uhh…” his voice startled, hesitant. “I—” he didn’t finish.

“A,” I muttered the next answer, my eyes still scanning for him.

“Ahh… uhhh…” he sounded flustered again, his voice struggling to form words.

I kept muttering answers, focusing on the quiz, while the other end of the call went strangely quiet. Only his breathing and a faint rustle of movement reached me—no laughter, no replies, just silence stretching between the questions.

The quiz finally ended. My screen flashed with bright lights and confetti effects as the rankings appeared.

Second place—me. 

First place—a familiar name.

It was the vice-guild leader from another guild on the server.

“Hm… she’s so fast,” I muttered to myself, watching her avatar appear on the winner’s stage, basking under the animated spotlight. I exited the event venue, the scene fading into the quiet of the main plaza. 

On the other end of the call, his voice finally returned.

「おめでとう」

(“Congratulations,”) he said softly.

I smiled faintly, but repeated my question from before. 

“Where are you?”

This time, his answer came easily, his tone relaxed.

“I… tapped the wrong answer.”

“Huh? But I gave you the answer already,” I muttered, half in disbelief, half in teasing annoyance.

「はは、まー…」

(“Haha.. well..”) he laughed, voice fading off as if searching for words.

Then, suddenly, a message popped up in the in-game chat window.

「早くタップしたいのに！タブ近すぎて、指がツルッて滑っちゃった〜！」

He’d written it directly in the chat, followed by a laughing emoji.

I blinked at the message, reading it again and again before taking a quick screenshot and running it through my translation app.

The meaning appeared, plain and silly.

(“I tried to tap faster, but the buttons were too close and my finger slipped!”)

A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I shook my head and murmured into the call.

「ばかだね」

(“You’re such an idiot.”)

He chuckled on the other end, the kind of laugh that carried no embarrassment, only an easy comfort.

The event’s grind time ended, the usual rush settling into a quiet routine. The tension of competition melted away, and we simply continued playing—farming materials, chatting idly, existing together in the same space.

「やるじゃね」

(“You’re good at this,”) he muttered suddenly.

“Hm? Well, I’ve been playing for two months now. The quiz happens twice a week—it’s pretty repetitive. You’ll get used to it soon,” I replied lightly.

He exhaled a small laugh, the kind that brushed softly against the mic, almost more breath than sound.

Minutes passed, the silence between us comfortable. Then, he spoke again, changing the topic without warning. The conversation shifted to the conference again.

“Do you come tomorrow as well?”

“Hm… maybe a bit late, I’ll probably join the evening session,” I said, stretching a little. 

「何で？」

(“Why?”) his tone dropped slightly, quieter, and curious.

For a moment, I didn’t answer. I was scrolling through my inventory absentmindedly, trying to think of a reply.

“I’m waiting for the shops to open here, I’ll grab lunch first, or I’ll end up starving all day,” I said finally. 

He went quiet again for a moment, then said softly.

「そうだね、ここで食べてるとこ見たことないんだ」

(“Yeah… Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you eat at the venue.”)

I heard him, but his words blurred past me. 

“Sorry?”

He took a moment to think, then switched to English.

“Ahh… Why did you not eat at the venue hall?”

“I can’t.” I replied simply.

「えー？！ 」

(“Eh?!”) his voice jumped, clearly confused.

“Yeah,” I answered, giving a short affirmative hum.

「何で？」

(“Why?”)

I smiled faintly at his persistence.

「ん… ハラル のこと、知ってる？」

(“Do you know about halal?”)

「ハラル？」 

(“Hararu?”) he repeated, the unfamiliar word rolling uncertainly off his tongue. His voice was full of innocent confusion.

「ハラル.. 」

(“Hararu..”) he repeated the word again, his voice uncertain, as if trying to grasp its meaning.

I let out a soft laugh, realizing there was no easy way to explain it over the phone—especially in a mix of languages, half-lost in translation.

“Never mind,” I said quietly, brushing the topic aside. 

「じゃ、また明日」

(“Well then, see you tomorrow.”)

「んー、またね」

(“Yeah, see you then,”) his voice trailed softly through the earphones.

Something about the way he said it—gentle, almost reluctant—made me stop for a moment before closing the game. The room was dark except for the faint glow of my phone screen. I turn it off, turned to the side, and exhaled a long sigh that filled the quiet space.

Yeah… it’s strange, isn’t it? Talking this casually with someone I’ve only known for two days.

He came up to me so easily—wanting to be close, trying things he’d never done before. 

His voice still echoed faintly in my mind, warm and clumsy, like someone stepping into a world for the first time.

Yeah… this must be his first time playing a game like this.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I sank into the pillow. My thoughts swirled endlessly—about him, the game, and how odd it felt that something so fleeting could already feel familiar.

The night was quiet, but my mind was loud. And yet, at some point, the noise faded into sleep.

「ハラル？」

(“Hararu?”) the word lingered in his mind long after he’d heard it.

It was late—the kind of night when the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside the window. Ren lay on his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering before he finally opened the browser.

He typed it slowly — ハラル — and began scrolling through the results.

「うーん……ハラールって、お肉を使っていない食べ物？豚とかお酒のこと？」

(“Hmm… So it's food without meat? Or something about pork and alcohol?”) he muttered under his breath, frowning a little as he read.

He scrolled further, half-reading, half-thinking.

「そうなの？」 

(“Is that so?”) he whispered again, almost thoughtfully. He didn’t quite understand everything, but somehow, it felt… important. The room fell silent once more. 

Looking back now—

He had joined the conference for his study merit. Nothing special. Just another academic requirement.

But that day…

The first morning of the event, he noticed a girl. She arrived early — earlier than anyone else.

Quietly looking around, as if searching for something… or maybe just taking in the place.  Then she left again before most people even showed up. There weren’t any foreign students among the committee, so he knew right away she must be a participant. 

Still, something about her felt unusual—too calm, too early.

Before his duties began, Ren stepped out to the garden for some air. The morning sun had just begun to warm the stone path, and the faint scent of flowers drifted through the breeze. And there she was again. Standing by the fence, gazing at the scenery with that same distant look in her eyes.

Her gaze was far away—calm, almost lonely, yet there was a quiet peace in the way she smiled toward the horizon. Something about that small curve of her lips eased his thoughts, as if her stillness had seeped into the air between them.

He took a step toward her… then stopped.

「でも…邪魔したくなかった。」

(‘No—I didn’t want to disturb her.’)

That kind of peace felt fragile, like a still surface of water that could ripple with just one wrong word.

A soft buzz from his wristwatch broke the silence. His alarm. Time to get back to his post. It was supposed to be another ordinary event—the same faces, the same small talk, the same cycle of credits and merit points.

Routine. Predictable. Until she appeared again.

From across the hall, he saw her—the same calm figure, moving with unhurried steps toward the registration desk. Her presence alone seemed to quiet the noise around her. She looked around once, scanning the committee tables—and then, their eyes met.

Just for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then she walked toward him.

She handed him a sheet of paper—her registration confirmation. Their fingers brushed briefly as he took it. He glanced down at the name printed neatly across the top.

And without meaning to, he smiled. Finally, he knew who she was.