Chapter 8: Turmoil on His Side

‘A storm within, calm on the screen. Not an ending—just the pause between heartbeats.’

Ren’s fingers fly over the screen again, still fuming.

He opens the chat with Atsu—the one person who always somehow manages to get under his skin.

To: アツ (Atsu)

「なにしてんだよ！！！」

(“What the hell are you doing!!!”)

Atsu replies almost instantly—like he’s been waiting for this.

「写真、よく撮れてるでしょ？」

(“The picture came out nice, right?”)

Ren pauses, jaw clenched, then continues typing.

「はぁ！？ふざけんなよ！！！」

(“Hah!? Don’t mess with me!!!”)

He sends another message right after, frustration spilling out.

「どこで撮ったんだよ！勝手に写真撮るなって！！」

(“Where did you even take that! Don’t just take pictures without asking!!”)

Atsu’s reply comes slower this time—short, unreadable.

「感謝してくれてもいいと思うけど。」

(“I think you could thank me, though.”)

Ren freezes mid-sentence, staring at the screen.

The anger fizzles just a little, replaced by a quiet tug of truth he doesn’t want to admit.

After a long pause, he types back — slower this time.

「…そうだけど。おまえ、やり方が悪い。」

(“…Yeah, but your way of doing it sucks.”)

Three dots appear—’typing…’—then vanish.
Ren tightens his grip on the phone.

He adds another line, his tone dropping softer, more uncertain.

「…それに、まだちゃんと話してないんだ。」
(“ …Besides, I haven’t even talked to her properly yet.”)

Another pause.

Then finally:

「頼むから、余計なこと言わないでくれ。」
(“Please — don’t say anything unnecessary.”)

He exhales deeply, pressing send.
The message whooshes away, leaving only silence.

He leans back in his chair, hand covering his face as if to muffle a quiet groan.

「はぁ…まったく、あの人、何考えてるんだよ…」
(“Hah… what the hell is he thinking…”)

He stares at the phone again—at the empty space beneath his messages to Arin—and mutters softly, almost to himself.

「俺まで、誤解されるだろ…」
(“Now she’ll probably misunderstand me too…”)

A beat later, another message follows.

「別に悪い写真じゃないだろ？ちゃんと楽しそうにしてたよ。」
(“It wasn’t a bad picture, was it? She looked like she was enjoying herself.”)

He can almost hear Atsu’s voice—that laid-back, unbothered tone, the kind that drips with quiet amusement.

Then another bubble appears:

「それに、ただ聞いただけだよ。名前も知らなかったって言ったら、少し驚いてたけど。」
(“And, I just asked. She seemed a little surprised when I said she didn’t know your name though.”)

His irritation rises again, fingers hovering over the keyboard—but before he can type, another message pops up.

「心配すんなよ、ちゃんと“彼女”って言っといたから。」
(“Don’t worry — I made sure to tell her you’re her boyfriend.”)

For a few seconds, he could only stare at the screen—eyes frozen, thumb hovering above the message bubble as if the words might change if he waited long enough.

「…っっ！！！」

(“ugh—!!”)

He groaned aloud, dragging both hands down his face.

「何言ってんだ、あいつ…」

(“What the hell is he saying…”)

He muttered under his breath, pacing around his room.

His phone buzzed again, still showing Atsu’s last line, glowing like a taunt.

「誰が言えって言ったんだよ！！」

(“Who asked you to say that!!!”)

He burst out, voice echoing into the empty room.

He threw himself onto the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling before slamming his palm on the table.

「うわぁぁ！！ あいつ、いつかマジで俺のこと殺す気だよ…」

(“Arghhh!! That guy’s seriously gonna kill me someday…”)

His phone buzzed again—a phantom vibration this time—and he glanced at it with half-hope, half-fear.

No new messages. 

Not from her.

He leaned back, exhaling slowly.

The ceiling light reflected faintly in his eyes.

「…その顔、なんか。」

(“…Her face though”)

He whispered to himself, remembering the picture.

She looked calm—peaceful, even. 

Her hand holding the chopsticks midair, the soft lighting falling over her hair.

A small smile crept up before he could stop it.

「ちゃんと食べてるみたいで、よかったな…」

(“Looks like she’s eating well… I’m glad.”)

Then, another thought.

His expression tightened again, a flush rising on his cheek.

「でもさ…アツのやつ… 」

(‘but still… that guy Atsu…’)

He ruffled his hair in frustration, muttering.

「なんであいつ、いつもああやって余計なことするんだろ…」

(“Why does he always have to do unnecessary stuff like that…”)

The phone buzzed again—this time, a notification from the game.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Her status: ‘Online’.

His heart skipped.

「…あ、いた。」

(“…ah、 she’s there.”)

He reached for the phone. Open the game. Almost instantly.

Then whispered to himself, almost a plea —

「お願い…今度こそ、ちゃんと説明させて。」

(“Please… just this time, let me explain it properly.”)

He logged in.

After such a long day, I lay on my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

So many things seemed to have happened today…

I turned to the side, gazing out the window.

The soft noise of the city at night drifted in—calm, steady, almost soothing.

Reaching for my phone, I hesitated.

For a while, I didn’t feel like turning the screen on.

I held it loosely in my hand, breathing out a quiet sigh.

“Maybe I’ll just join the event,” 

I murmured to myself. 

“At least for the participation reward.”

With a small push of will, I logged into the game.

The weight of fatigue lingered, tempting me to end the night early—but progress was progress.

And for me, missing a reward felt like leaving something unfinished.

Tonight’s event was the Beauty Pageant—a popularity contest where players competed for votes to climb the rankings.

Familiar names appeared on the leaderboard, many from my own guild. 

It was fun seeing their avatars shine in the spotlight, dressed in elaborate costumes, striking poses to the rhythm of the music.

As the final round began, the entire plaza lit up in color.

The air buzzed with excitement—cheers bursting from the chat, bursts of animated fireworks, flower petals raining across the stage. 

Gifts, rockets, and glowing emotes flew across the screen, filling the air with chaos and joy.

My guild chat blinked nonstop with messages.

“Next round, we support Lyria!”

“Save your votes—rotation system, next winner!”

I smiled softly at the screen.

“Ohh… so they came up with a strategy,” 

I murmured. 

“That’s pretty smart.”

Their teamwork warmed me—that simple sense of community, of everyone cheering for one another, even in a digital crowd.

When the results finally appeared, our guild’s plan worked.

One of our members took first place.

The chat exploded with celebration—confetti emojis, hearts, and laughter filling the space.

For a moment, I couldn’t help but smile too.

The event ended, and I returned to my courtyard—the place I always went to when I just wanted the world to slow down.

I wasn’t planning to do anything in particular, just… sit for a while.

The garden shimmered faintly with the soft hues of dusk—a gentle orange light that felt almost real, almost warm.

And there he was.

A familiar figure standing near the swing—

Ren.

The same outfit, the same idle stance… yet something about him felt different tonight.

He didn’t move right away. Just stood there, facing my direction.

Even through the stillness of his avatar, I could feel the weight in the air—something quiet, something unsaid.

I opened the chat window — and noticed a message I hadn’t seen before.

A single line.

「ね…」

(“hey…”)

I read it slowly. Just that one word—yet it felt heavier than it looked.

And then, I remembered.

His unread messages on my phone.

All of them.

I guided my avatar to the swing, sitting down as it began to sway gently.

The motion was comforting—repetitive, soft.

I typed back.

“I’m too tired to read worms.”

I wasn’t even sure if he’d understand the meaning.

Maybe he’d gone idle, I thought. Maybe he’d left the game open and wandered off.

Then, another message appeared.

“I can use English.”

A small smile tugged at my lips.

“Good..” 

I replied.

Our texts began to stretch a little longer.

Reinz: 「You got the new outfit.」

Rhea: 「You noticed.」

Reinz: 「Of course. You look like… someone from an old painting.」

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

Even without a voice, I could almost hear the awkward sincerity in his tone.

Rhea: 「That’s a weird compliment.」

Reinz: 「Weird, but true.」

Out of everything he could’ve said, he chose to talk about my outfit first.

Such a silly guy.

But even so, my chest felt a little lighter at his small, clumsy joke.

We went on.

Reinz: 「I was afraid I said something wrong.」

Reinz: 「You’ve been quiet since that day.」

Rhea: 「…I didn’t want to say anything.」

Reinz: 「I thought maybe… you’re mad at me. Or that you didn’t want to see me again.」

Rhea: 「I didn’t say that.」

A small smile appeared on his avatar’s face—one of those default idle emotes, but it somehow felt real.

For a moment, the silence between us didn’t feel heavy anymore.

Then I typed another message.

Rhea: 「Hinezaki」

My fingers froze above the keyboard.

The sound of the game faded into the background, replaced by the quiet rush of my own heartbeat.

I’d typed it without thinking—and now the name just sat there between us, suspended on the screen.

Reinz: 「Yes, ma’am!!」

Rhea: 「That’s your name?」

Reinz: 「...Yes」

Rhea: 「And Kiren?」

Reinz: 「It’s my child name.」

Rhea: 「Child? Then you’re married?」

Reinz: 「What?!!」

His reaction came fast—almost startled.

I let out a soft laugh, my fingers hovering playfully above the keyboard.

It was just a teasing remark; I already knew what he meant.

But watching him fumble through words was oddly adorable.

Reinz: 「Childhood!!」

Reinz: 「!!!!」

I couldn’t hold back my laughter this time.

He was exactly as I imagined—earnest, flustered, completely transparent.

And maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop smiling.

Reinz: 「So..」

Reinz: 「Do you forgive me?」

His question caught me for a moment.

Was it really forgiveness he sought—or something closer to acceptance?

I hesitated.

Then decided not to leave him wandering any longer.

Rhea: 「No..」

Rhea: 「Maybe, not yet..」

Reinz: 「I–.. will wait.」

The air fell silent again—though this time, it wasn’t heavy.

There was something steady in his tone, something patient.

Or maybe it was just… him.

I let out a faint sneer at the thought—half amused, half moved.

Then a soft chime echoed—the familiar sound of a system notification:

‘Friend interaction completed.’

The game didn’t know what had just passed between us, yet it marked it anyway.

As if recording something unspoken.

Rhea: 「Thank you..」

I stayed there, unmoving—sitting on the swing as the soft breeze animation brushed past, petals drifting in their endless loop.

The screen’s light painted a faint glow across my face.

And then, I logged off.

The screen faded to black, leaving only my reflection—quiet, faint, but still there.

The glow of the screen faded, leaving him in the dim hush of his room.

He leaned back on his chair, eyes still fixed on the blank screen where her avatar had been just moments ago.

Now, only the faint reflection of his face stared back—tired eyes, and a half-smile that didn’t quite reach them.

「そっか…」

(“So that’s how it is…”)

He murmured softly.

He rubbed his thumb across the edge of his phone, the urge to type something—anything—burning in him again.

But what could he say after that?

‘Maybe not yet’ — her words echoed, clear and gentle, yet heavy in his chest.

He looked at the message thread still open with Atsu, the earlier chaos and teasing now buried under the weight of quiet.

Ren:

「…いつか、って言ってた。」

(“…She said maybe someday.”)

After a few seconds, a reply came through.

Atsu:

「じゃあ、“ダメ”ってわけじゃないんだね。」

(“Then, that means not ‘no.’”)

Ren stared at the message, exhaling a quiet laugh through his nose.

「お前らしいな…」

(“So typical of you…”)

He muttered, shaking his head.

He pushed away from the desk, walking toward the window.

Outside, Kyoto’s night lights blinked softly in the distance—red, white, and gold—like scattered thoughts he couldn’t quite gather.

He pressed his forehead lightly against the cool glass.

「いつか、ね…」

(“someday、 huh…”)

His breath fogged against the window, then slowly faded.

For the first time in days, the tightness in his chest eased — not gone, but quieter.

Maybe that was enough for tonight.