“...Isn’t that where women post explicit images of themselves and where commoners badmouth their rulers?”
Bea’s smile faltered. Then, she playfully pinched the man’s thighs.
“Ugh, you’re not wrong, but do you really have to ruin my perfectly dramatic metaphor?”
Julius laughed. “Fleur has really rubbed off on you, huh.”
He pulled the pouting woman closer to him, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“So why do we have to go to this social media to find Fleur? And how exactly do people “die” on the internet?”
The maid huffed, but still nuzzled her cheek against his.
“...I’ll answer your second question first. Imagine a public square that contains billions of people.”
“Yeah, you lost me there.”
“Just do it.”
Julius pursed his lips, trying to fit an absurd amount of people in his imaginary city. He sent a silent apology to the poor humans in his mind.
‘I’m sorry. The scary maid told me to do this.’
Meanwhile, Bea conjured a lump of darkness, shaping them into multiple little limbs, and began typing on the keyboard.
“Okay, I’ve done it. Can you hurry your explanation? I can’t stand their cries of pain any longer.”
“...What?”
“Nothing. So a square full of people. Then what?”
After a brief look, she shrugged and continued to type in a keyword, then the next, opening a few…windows. That term still left him searching for the doors and the roofs.
“Imagine that square divided into countless corners, each with its own purposes. One might be where performers and educators share their craft. Another is for people to share their memories through pictures and videos. Elsewhere, communities form around every imaginable interest. And of course, in one particularly noisy corner, people just shout their opinions at each other.”
The square in his mind instantly became lively, with each of her descriptions adding vivid imagery inside of it.
But one in particular made him chuckle.
“Isn’t that last one just the Forum?”
She smiled. “Exactly. For all their history, humans never change.”
“Speaking of which,” the shadowy hand dragged the pointer to a specific window. “Shall we start with that one now?”
Rome disappeared from the monitor, replaced by a distinct yet forgettable logo.
“...What does the letter X have to do with people arguing?”
“No idea.”
Soon, the logo disappeared, displaying two blank boxes, similar to the one in Google.
“I don’t want you to use my account, so create your own first.”
“Why not? Shouldn’t we share every—”
The shadows deepened, sharpened limbs of black surrounded him as the lights flickered.
“Make. Your. Own. Account. Julius.”
“...”
Her oppressive killing intent, whose mere presence had brought entire cities to ruin, was specifically targeted at him.
The man almost flinched.
Not from fear, never.
Instead, Julius was trying his hardest not to let out a laugh.
‘Judging by her reaction and how she intentionally left out this information when she shared her memories, it’s probably one of her niche hobbies that she always gets embarrassed about…’
With difficulty, he swallowed his amusement.
Julius hugged her lovingly. “I will, my dear Beatrice. Also, you called me Julius again instead of master.”
The hug helped, as it always did, to placate the maid. Slowly, the shadows sank back into the ground, leaving one who performed the duties of a servant for them.
“My apologies, master. Please type in the username for your account.”
The excessive formality in her words seemed to compensate for her earlier behaviour.
“Are you sure you want me to type?”
“...Never mind then.”
The hands hovered above the keyboard, waiting for his command.
He tilted his head. “How about just Julius?”
“That’s not possible, master. Each account’s name must be completely unique. Choosing one from history, especially well-known ones, will definitely get rejected.”
The man sighed dramatically. “Why do you have to be so famous, Caesar? You’re making it difficult for me to see humans reenact your chaotic Senate debates.”
The wheels in his mind twisted and turned, trying to find a name that might be accepted.
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you had practiced coming up with your own names instead of constantly stealing them.”
“I probably would have done that if you all didn’t laugh at my first attempt at naming myself.”
Bea froze, then laughed the hardest she had been all day.
“Hahaha! Who wouldn’t laugh trying to call their husband Randomman?”
“Hey! The world barely had anything back then. I had nothing to name myself after!”
The maid wiped her tears, laughter still leaking out from her lips. “Of course, master. Technically, it is the most original name ever, since no parent was ever cruel enough to name their child that.”
Julius growled, playfully biting her exposed shoulder and pinching her soft stomach, making her laugh even harder.
Eventually, her laughter thawed his offended smile, and he joined in, creating a picturesque image of a happy couple.
“Alright,” he finally said, “I think I’ll use that as my username then.”
Bea smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought too.”
“I’ll add Julius at the end just to make sure it’s not taken.”
The username RandommanJulius was displayed on the screen.
His eyes lingered on the blue check next to it, marking it as available.
“...I hate how much I like it.”
The maid quietly giggled.
“What do you want to use as your password?”
“Hmm, how about 123—”
“Denied, I’ll just use all our names alphabetically.”
“...Why do you even ask then?”
Soon, his account was finished, and Julius was finally ready to experience his first taste of social media.
In his mind, he imagined walking to that corner of the square where people had been shouting at each other.
As he approached one of them, he watched one of their lips move.
@ghj_tyu_lop: bread lowkey tastes better with ketchup
“What.”
His jaw hung open as his gaze was fixed on the screen.
The spectral hands enthusiastically opened the comments as though amused by his reactions.
The words that followed failed to register in his brain.
@JohnJohnJohn11: hol up, let him cook
@ThatOnePixel: No, get him out of the kitchen.
@NightRequiem: bro just offended a whole nation
@qxvri: nation? more like the whole WORLD
@NovaPrincess: ketchup isn’t the weirdest thing I like~ link in bio
Julius slowly closed his eyes, imagining himself walking away from that corner.
Bea quietly chuckled.
“Welcome to Twitter, master.”