You're in Game! LitRPG Stories from Bestselling Authors

by Vasily Mahanenko

  The murderer's eyes filled with desperate fury.

  You see, players tend to become one with their virtual bodies. They forget that this is only a game. Here, death is only a technicality. Like a computer rebooting. Players do tend to cling on to their virtual lives.

  Well, I didn't.

  I'm not a player. Have never been one.

  This is my job.

  With a jolt, darkness devoured me.

  Return to main menu

  Translated from Russian by Irene Woodhead and Neil P. Mayhew

  The Date

  A tale from The Mirror World series

  by Marina and Alexey Osadchuk

  "HA! THERE HE IS, my competition!"

  We both turned to the sound of Count's voice. A scraggy dwarf had just left Beast's office and was now looking around himself in surprise.

  Today of all days the reception was packed with all sorts, NPCs as well as players. They spoke in loud voices, laughing and cracking jokes, sharing their experiences of the Caltean attack on the Citadel. For many of them, this had been their first event — which meant they had a lot to take in.

  A scraggy dwarf... actually, was he a dwarf at all? I took a better look. How funny. Nickname: Olgerd. Race: Ennan. Not another dead race! Apparently, he didn't want to publicize the fact. His dwarven disguise must have cost him a pretty penny. How very interesting.

  Despite being a newb, the guy definitely had an agenda. Then again, who hadn't? Grinders didn't come to the Citadel to admire the local scenery.

  "Count, look at this Digger!" Turbo growled. "He's definitely not digging it, is he?"

  I cast a sideways glance at him. Turbo was our tank. He may have looked fearsome but he was in fact a kind, helpful kind of guy. With friends, anyway.

  With a startle, the fake dwarf looked in our direction. A serious, studying look. In all my time in the game, I'd already got used to these kinds of stares. I may be a cute twenty-year-old girl in real life but here I'm a power to be reckoned with. A full set of Purple gear. Level 200+. It's true what they say about Mirror World — or the Glasshouse, as we call it — that this particular virtual world opens up a wealth of opportunities, allowing you a taste of a totally new lifestyle.

  "Whatcha stalling for, Dwarf?" Count flashed him a pearly smile. "Let's get to know each other."

  "Pleased to meet you," the Ennan ventured a smile.

  "The event sucked," Turbo growled. "Nothing to write home about. Still, you did a good job."

  The Ennan gave him a wary look.

  "Guys, leave the poor Grinder alone," I said as softly as I could.

  He nodded his gratitude. His stare alighted briefly on my crossbow. I know, I know. I love it too.

  If only he'd seen the beast we'd had to smoke in order to lay our hands on this delightful thingy! Had it not been for Count, we’d all have gone home with our tails between our legs.

  I smiled to him. "Please don't take any notice of them, Olgerd. It's just that we've wasted two days already on these ridiculous mini-events. We've come here to get us some scalps. Instead, we're hunting mobs."

  Judging by the look on his face, he didn't consider the Caltean attack a mini-event. He had a point. The difference was, the first time I'd come to the Citadel I'd already been level 100. I still didn't like thinking about it. And this zero-level guy had managed to hit it big on his first day here, ending up on the event's top player list. I really needed to keep an eye on him.

  Count seemed to be thinking in the same direction. I, of all people, recognized this glint of interest in his eye.

  "I see," the Ennan said non-committedly.

  "How's the Beast?" Turbo asked him.

  "How's who?" he looked clueless.

  We exchanged understanding glances. "We can see you're a newb," Count said.

  "Beast is what we call Gard," I explained. "He may be an NPC but he's a sick bastard."

  "Yeah," Turbo agreed. "He makes you wait for a quest like it's some lottery draw."

  In the time that we stood there, several NPCs had walked past. Each of them thought of slapping Olgerd's shoulder or saying something along the lines of "Keep up the good work!"

  Been there, heh. Got the T-shirt.

  Seeing his embarrassed reaction to praise, Count added with a grin, "Don't be shy. It's always like this when you get a medal. Tomorrow it'll calm down. That's the admins' way of encouraging players to strive for new heights."

  "Do you mean that tomorrow they won't be so friendly with me anymore?" Olgerd asked.

  "Oh yes they will," Count replied. "They'll still have respect for you but it won't be as explicit. Medals are a great thing. You should do all you can to get new ones and upgrade the old ones."

  "Thanks for the tip."

  What an interesting individual. Very. I really should invite him to join us at the inn. We needed to talk. From what I'd heard, our clan needed some advanced mine diggers. And this Olgerd seemed to be taking his profession seriously. Also, his latest achievement spoke for itself.

  I was about to blurt all this out when Gard's adjutant growled,

  "Olgerd! The Captain will see you!"

  "What a shame," I said when the door of Gard's office closed behind him.

  "Meaning?" Turbo asked.

  "Interesting guy, don't you think?" Count asked me, ignoring his question.

  I nodded. "Quite. I've been toying with the idea of asking him to join us at the inn."

  "You sure?" Turbo butted in again. "What's so interesting about him?"

  Count rolled his eyes. "Well, for one, he's one of the dead races."

  "What, a dwarf?"

  I shook my head in disbelief. Turbo! He'd never change. Then again, if you needed to have someone chopped in two with a poleaxe, Turbo was your man.

  Now Count, despite his quite flashy name... he was, how can I say it... he was different.

  His gear was awesome. He'd done the Captain level in Valor. He'd taken part in the Great Battles. Count was our clan's elite, pure and simple.

  But still he was a good friend, ready to help you out at a moment's notice.

  Most of our clan's girls were crazy about him.

  You can't imagine how many of them had tried to set him up for a real-life date. No such luck. He even avoided our clan's powwows.

  At first many guys had laughed at us saying we'd fallen for a cute avatar, implying he might be a right uglie IRL. Others said that Count had used his own appearance for his char. The only difference being, he probably had only two hands and a lighter shade of skin, LOL.

  I didn't give a damn about his looks. As long as he was the same kind of guy as he was here in the game, what else did you need?

  A touch to my shoulder awoke me. Oh. I'd been away with the fairies, apparently. It had been happening to me too often just lately.

  "Irene? You all right?"

  Count's right hand alighted on my shoulder. His emerald eyes betrayed concern.

  I nodded. "I'm fine. Lagging a bit, that's all."

  "It happened to you before, didn't it?" Turbo butted in. "You need to contact support. It could be your capsule playing up."

  "I will," I said, hiding my eyes.

  An awkward pause hung in the air. Or was it my imagination? Finally, Turbo coughed loudly. "I don't know about you but I'm not staying. It looks like Beast is stuck with this Grinder for a while. I might come back in the evening."

  "Sure. Suit yourself. Hope you don't mind if we wait for a bit. You never know."

  Did Count's voice really tremble?

  Turbo shrugged. His observational skills weren't that great. He bade his goodbyes and headed out.

  Count watched his burly back disappear. Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly strained. "Are you doing something tonight?"

  "Dunno," I replied matter-of-factly. "Why, you have any ideas? Know any new dungeons?"

  I tried to stay calm but some of Count's anxiety must have rubbed off on me. What was going on?

  He heaved a sigh.
"No," he shook his head, "I don't. I wondered if you would like to go out tonight. In real life, I mean."

  * * *

  THE CAPSULE'S TOP slowly began to rise.

  I opened my eyes.

  The room was bathed in soft shadows, the way I liked it when I logged out. The walls and the ceiling were specked with red and blue reflections of the control panel lights.

  I drew in air, taking in my home smells. The door was slightly ajar. My room may have been far from the kitchen but not far enough for me to miss the aroma of Mom's pies.

  My mouth began to salivate. Yum...

  I listened intently. Four sets of claws were clattering over the parquet floor, meaning that Mom's radio receiver had worked, sending Mickey my way.

  The door swung open. Mickey the beagle was standing there, his brown ears splayed, his square head cocked to one side. He wasn't yet sure whether I was already awake. His moist black nose pulsated fast. If a dog could sniff you to death, it had to be a beagle.

  I pretended I was still asleep, watching him from under my eyelashes. Mickey shifted his feet undecidedly, licking his chops. He must have already received some treat in the kitchen. Everything about him seemed to say, come on now, get up already! Let's go to the kitchen! There're so many tasty things there! They might disappear while you're lying here all alone!

  Finally, I raised my head and gave him a smile.

  Oh, the celebration! His signature bark echoed through the house, informing everyone I was back. His black and white tail rotated like a fan, sending his entire body into a frenzy.

  He approached the capsule and laid his front paws on its edge, his mouth gaping, his ears drooping down to his neck in a most funny way.

  "That's my smiler!"

  We spent the next few minutes hugging until the oven clicked shut in the kitchen. Mickey disappeared in a flash, afraid of losing out on a treat. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

  "Reeny?" Mom called me. "You want some coffee, sweet?"

  Excellent. Only a few days ago, she'd have already been upon me, desperate to help her handicapped daughter to vacate "this crazy contraption".

  "Yes, please!" I called back. "I'm coming!"

  Let's do it, then. I grabbed at the railings lining the sides of the capsule and heaved my body into the sitting position. A secret smile hovered on my lips. Only six months ago I couldn't have even dreamed about this. But now my abs were up to the job! All thanks to Georgy, my physiotherapist, who made me give it my all at our sessions.

  Using both my hands, I lifted my left leg and threw it over the edge. Now the right one. I could feel the faint tingling sensation in my calves. It was working! How cool was that?

  Just think that everything had been so different only a short while ago.

  The memories of that day still came in brief flashes. A warm sunset in May. I had jumped into my Honda... I was late for a hot date. I had to take a right turn at the intersection... That stupid little boy... his ball rolled out into the road... he ran out to catch it... I yanked on the steering wheel... then darkness.

  When I came round in hospital, they told me the boy was fine. His mom came to see me. She cried a lot. She thanked me.

  Later, the diagnosis. The depression. Then one day my parents met Dr. Orlov who was famous for having put much worse patents back on their feet. He told me I was in for a long struggle. If I wanted to walk again, I had to fight my own body.

  It was he who suggested Mirror World's extended-immersion sessions. According to him, my brain "could use the exercise, however virtual".

  My parents didn't need to be told twice. A week later, they'd already had a Glasshouse capsule installed in a dedicated room in the west wing of our house. Unexpectedly for myself, I'd gotten lost in the weirdly beautiful settings of Mirror World.

  My first immersion! Even now, as I moved to my wheelchair in one strong practiced motion, I couldn't suppress a smile. It had been unforgettable. Which was more, it allowed me to move. I could walk again. I could run or dance if I wanted to!

  "Reeny, your coffee's ready!" I heard Mom say again.

  "Coming!" I replied, setting the wheels in motion.

  * * *

  THEY WERE ALL in the kitchen already. All but Dad, that is. He worked late. He always did.

  Mom was busy fussing by the kitchen stove. Varya, my little sister, sat at the table with her chin on her knees, immersed in a book. That didn't stop her from periodically reaching out to sneak the nicest slices of pie from the plate without even looking.

  Mickey hovered around Mom's feet, casting occasional glances at his bowl just to check if by some magic force he'd been sent a second helping of his own dinner.

  "Sit down before everything disappears," Mom nodded at my sister, smiling. "They eat them faster than I can make them."

  "I can hear you," Varya warned, rearranging her glasses with one hand while reaching for the next slice of pie with the other. Where did it all go? The girl was as skinny as a rake!

  "Your coffee," Mom placed the steaming cup onto the table and paused, looking at me with a smile.

  Her gaze exuded so much love, warmth and tenderness. It was so good to be home!

  "Thanks, Mom."

  "Enjoy," she gave me a peck on the cheek.

  "Quit fussing," Varya quipped without looking up from her book.

  Smiling at her, I brought the cup to my lips. My hand was shaking. I watched Mom out of the corner of my eye: she'd noticed it too. I sighed and closed my eyes. I was in for a questioning session.

  "Reeny?" Mom's voice gave, betraying her anxiety. "Is everything all right?"

  Here we go.

  Varya too pricked up her ears, albeit inconspicuously.

  I shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be?" Still, my voice shook slightly.

  "Come on, tell us," Varya said calmly, turning the page.

  Mother perched herself on a chair. "Reeny, please."

  They wouldn't leave me alone now, would they? "Eh... basically... how can I say it..."

  "Just spit it out," Varya advised without looking up from her book. "Confession relieves guilt."

  "A guy has asked me out," I said, watching their reaction.

  "You mean Count?" they asked simultaneously: Varya curious, Mom smiling.

  "I said no such thing!" I exploded. Had they been able to see right through me all this time?

  "Yes, you did," Varya insisted, as if reading my thoughts. "You can't talk of anything else. It's always Count did this and Count did that..." she paused and added, "We might have our own Countess soon, eh, Mom?"

  Ignoring Varya's quips — we'd long stopped taking her sarcasm to heart — Mom showered me with questions,

  "Where is he taking you? When? What time? What are you wearing?"

  "How about asking me if I'm coming first?"

  "Nonsense," Varya announced. "You are not like all those soppy whiny girls, Oh, I'm so useless and miserable! Oh, he can't possibly fall for me! Yeah right. I bet he already knows you based your avatar on your own picture. He's probably drooling all over it."

  "Picture, yes. But this," I nodded meaningfully at my legs in the wheelchair.

  "This what?" Mom butted in. "You've been friends there for a long time. Nothing prevents you from staying friends in real life."

  I sighed. Pointless. No good moaning about it: I was a big girl now. I was simply trying to get an unbiased view of the situation. No one in the clan knew about my problem yet. I didn't need their sympathy. Not in Mirror World.

  "You know what?" I squinted one eye at them. "I think I might go."

  "As if we doubted it," Varya comments, then returns to her book.

  "Good," Mom says, kissing me on the forehead.

  * * *

  "I THINK it's here," the cab driver pulled up by a restaurant entrance.

  "Thanks, Uncle Volodya," I said, rolling my wheelchair off the ramp.

  Uncle Volodya had been driving me around for ages. We had his cell number so we could call him directly when
ever needed. He was all right.

  "You're welcome," he replied. "You sure you can manage?"

  I smiled to him. "Yes, thank you. I looked this place up on the Internet. They have wheelchair access and everything."

  Actually, I'd never heard of them before. The restaurant was on the opposite side of town. Normally, all of us shared lists of handicapped-friendly places: banks, pharmacists, shops, theaters and beauty salons. It was like a quest, really. I even had a map.

  "Well, it's up to you," he said with a fatherly smile. "You look great, by the way. Have a nice evening. Give me a ring when you're about to leave."

  "I will, thank you."

  He was right. I did look good. I could see it in men's stares as they walked past, casting me glances of surprise rather than sympathy.

  I'd turned up early. Never mind. I could live with that. At least my date wouldn't witness my arrival.

  So, what did we have here?

  The place was called Chez Marius. They even had a rubber ramp. I rolled in easily.

  My hands shook. My heart was about to explode. How. Utterly. Scary.

  The tinted doors hissed open. Excellent. Just what I needed. These automatic doors saved you the embarrassment of pushing yourself through the doorway, especially if the door springs were tight.

  The restaurant room was enveloped in safe shadows, soft music and appetizing smells.

  The young hostess smiled to me. "May I have your name, please?"

  "It's Irene."

  She found me on her list and motioned me to follow her. "This way, please."

  My wheelchair rolled softly across the floor. She walked next to me. Their staff was apparently well trained: she wasn't trying to grab at my chair to roll it herself. I might be handicapped but I wasn't helpless.

  The place wasn't busy but she was taking me to a completely deserted corner. I noticed the sufficient distance between the tables. Very good. I was starting to like it here.

  Still, I was shuddering. I hadn't been so scared even when we'd raided the Darkies.

  The table in the darkest corner was already taken. And...