The world didn’t fade out. It disconnected.
Rebekah reached up and pulled the neural link from the side of her head, the smooth metal band releasing with a soft click as it detached from the port behind her ear. The faint pressure she hadn’t noticed while wearing it vanished instantly, replaced by something heavier. Reality settled in around her slowly, like her senses had to remember how to work without assistance.
She sat there for a moment on the edge of her bed, the device resting loosely in her hands, staring at nothing as her room came back into focus.
Empty.
Not completely. There were still things left behind, a desk, a dresser, the faint outline where posters had once hung, but most of it was gone. Packed. Boxed. Labeled. Her life reduced to cardboard and tape stacked neatly against the walls like it was waiting to be shipped somewhere else.
It didn’t feel like her room anymore. It felt like a place she used to live.
Rebekah leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting across the boxes, each one marked in her own handwriting. Clothes. Books. Awards. School. Memories she hadn’t had time to think about while she was busy building a future that always felt just out of reach.
“…wow,” she murmured.
Her chest tightened, not in a painful way, but in that strange, hollow way that came with realizing something was ending even if you were the one who chose it. She stood up slowly, stepping around the boxes, brushing her fingers along one of them as she passed. Her name was written across the side.
Rebekah Mayweather.
It felt… weird.
Too complete. Too final.
She exhaled softly and grabbed her bag.
Time to go.
───
The plane ride blurred together into a stretch of half-remembered moments. The steady hum of the engines faded into the background, conversations drifted in and out without meaning, and time itself seemed to compress into something thin and distant. Rebekah spent most of it staring out the window, watching the clouds stretch endlessly beneath her, her thoughts looping through the same memories whether she wanted them to or not.
A small living room. One headset. A girl laughing over voice chat.
“Come on, Bekah, you’re too slow!”
She smiled faintly at the memory, the sound of Erica’s voice sharper than anything around her.
Back then, it had been easy.
Back when it was novel to have a sister she could play with anytime. Back when the filters were simple, the worlds were simple, and nothing felt complicated or heavy. Just games, just time, just being together.
Then she found out.
Adopted.
And not just adopted.
Become a replacement.
Not officially. Not in any way her parents would ever admit, but the truth had been there the moment she understood it. Their biological daughter would never move. Never speak. Never live the life they had imagined for her.
So they loved Rebekah instead.
And Rebekah had hated that.
Not them. There was no way she could hate them for loving her.
But the imbalance.
The unfairness.
She had everything Erica should have had, and Erica… existed in a pod full of liquid like a science experiment, experiencing life through systems and simulations and whatever scraps of reality she could piece together.
It should've been Erica, who was hugged and kissed as she flew or traveled to college after 18 years of being their daughter.
Rebekah swallowed, her eyes still fixed on the clouds.
From middle school on, she had made a decision. She would pay them back. She would fix it. She would save her.
And the cruelest part was how that decision had played out.
Less time together. Less visits. Less playing.
More studying. More work.
Straight A’s. Valedictorian. Scholarships.
A perfect path built on the idea that one day it would all mean something. That one day she could look Erica in the eye and say it was worth it. That she hadn’t just… left her there.
She closed her eyes briefly.
“…I’m coming,” she whispered.
Even if it was late.
Even if Erica hated her for it.
───
Japan felt different the second she stepped off the plane.
The air was cleaner, sharper, filled with unfamiliar sounds that somehow still felt structured, voices weaving around her in a language she only half understood. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and took a steadying breath before stepping forward into the flow of people.
“Sumimasen,” she murmured as she moved past someone, the word feeling a little stiff in her mouth but not wrong.
She had practiced.
Not enough to be comfortable, but enough to survive.
The train ride to campus passed quickly, her eyes flicking between signs, matching characters to what she had memorized, her brain working just fast enough to keep her from getting lost. When she finally stepped onto campus grounds, she stopped without meaning to.
It was… impressive.
Modern buildings rose alongside older structures, glass and steel blending with traditional architecture in a way that didn’t clash so much as coexist. Students moved around her in small groups, conversations flowing easily in Japanese and English, the atmosphere alive in a way her old school had never been.
“…kirei,” she murmured under her breath.
Beautiful.
Yeah.
That fit.
───
Her dorm wasn’t what she expected.
It wasn’t shared. It wasn’t cramped. It was a studio apartment, small but clean, functional, efficient in a way that made everything feel intentional. A bed, a desk, a compact kitchen, a bathroom tucked neatly behind a sliding door.
And in the corner—
The pod.
Rebekah stepped toward it slowly.
It was nothing like the headset she remembered. This was a full system, sleek and enclosed, designed for immersion at a level she had only read about. The surface was smooth, almost seamless, with soft lighting along the edges that pulsed faintly as it powered on in response to her presence.
“…wow.”
She reached out, brushing her fingers along it.
This wasn’t a toy.
This was… something else.
The thought came uninvited.
This is kind of what Erica lives in.
Rebekah swallowed and pulled her hand back.
“…okay.”
She set her bag down, moved through the room, unpacked just enough to feel grounded, then sat inside the pod.
It adjusted immediately, the interior shifting to support her body as scanning began, soft light passing over her in slow waves. Calibration started. Data syncing. User identification confirmed.
Her UI flickered into existence.
Account detected.
LilBekah.
Rebekah smiled despite herself.
“…I never changed it, huh?”
Of course she didn’t.
That name belonged to a different version of her.
A kid.
One who thought playing games with her sister was the most important thing in the world.
Her eyes softened.
“…guess it still is.”
“Link start.”
───
The world opened into white.
Endless. Empty. Clean in a way that didn’t feel natural.
Her UI was sharper than she remembered, more responsive, layered with options she didn’t fully understand yet. She scanned through it quickly, instincts kicking in faster than expected.
Sanctuary.
There it was.
But she didn’t go.
Not yet.
She opened her friends list instead, scrolled, and found Erica.
Online.
Playing: Helsings Online.
Rebekah hesitated for half a second.
Then selected it.
Purchase confirmed.
Download initiated.
The system didn’t make her wait long.
The white space fractured.
And then she was falling.
───
Cold hit first.
Then heat.
Her body locked as the system took hold, freezing her mid-drop while the world formed around her. The air turned dry and oppressive, the sky above shifting into a deep, unnatural red.
A mirror flickered into existence in front of her.
Rebekah stared.
It wasn’t the small, simplified avatar she remembered from years ago. No oversized eyes, no exaggerated features, no cartoon softness. The girl looking back at her felt… grounded. Real in a way that made her pause.
It was her.
Not perfectly.
But close enough to make her chest tighten.
Her face had matured, sharper around the jaw, her features more defined than she remembered seeing in the mirror back home. Her eyes looked the same, though, focused, observant, carrying more weight than they probably should at her age. Her hair fell just past her shoulders in soft, natural layers, a deep brown with subtle warmth to it, slightly tousled like the system hadn’t bothered to make it perfect. It moved when she tilted her head, catching the light in a way that felt almost too real for something rendered.
She shifted slightly, taking in the rest.
Her body wasn’t stylized or exaggerated. It felt like an honest version of herself, shaped by movement rather than fantasy. She was on the slimmer side, athletic without being overly toned, like someone who stayed active but didn’t train for it. There was a natural curve to her frame, her chest modest but noticeable, balanced in a way that didn’t draw attention unless she chose to think about it. Her posture straightened slightly as she looked, not out of vanity, but recognition.
“…okay,” she whispered.
Her outfit was simple, clearly a starter set, but not poorly made. A light, fitted tunic hugged her torso without restricting movement, the fabric soft but reinforced at the seams. Dark shorts sat comfortably at her hips, practical and flexible, paired with mid-calf boots that looked worn enough to suggest use but not damage. A thin belt wrapped around her waist, empty for now, waiting for whatever tools or weapons she would eventually carry.
Nothing about it screamed “hero.”
But it didn’t make her look weak either.
Just… new.
She lifted her hand slowly.
The reflection followed perfectly.
“…that’s weird,” she murmured, though there was no discomfort in her voice, just quiet awe.
There were options.
Customization menus hovered at the edge of her vision, sliders and presets waiting for her to reshape everything if she wanted to. Change her face. Adjust her body. Make herself into something ideal.
Rebekah hesitated.
Then, slowly, curiosity won.
“…okay, just a little,” she muttered.
Her hand moved through the interface, selecting hair first. The color palette expanded in front of her, dozens of shades shifting in real time as she hovered over them. Dark browns, reds, unnatural tones… and then—
Blonde.
She selected it.
The reflection changed instantly, her hair lightening into a soft gold that caught the ambient light in a way that felt almost too familiar.
She tilted her head slightly.
“…huh.”
It wasn’t bad.
It just… wasn’t her.
For a second, she didn’t look at herself.
She saw Erica's hair. The hair that drifted in the liquid of her pod, when they took Bekah to see her at the hospital.
Her expression shifted, and without thinking too much about it, she switched it back.
“Yeah… no,” she murmured quietly.
Her hand drifted down to the next set of sliders.
Body proportions.
She paused.
“…okay, this is where it gets weird.”
She adjusted breast size slightly.
Nothing too dramatic.
Then a little more.
Her reflection responded immediately, subtle changes at first, then more noticeable as she pushed it further. The system didn’t resist. It didn’t warn her. It just… kept going.
“…there’s no way—”
She dragged the slider further.
Her chest expanded.
Then kept going.
Then kept going.
Rebekah’s eyes widened slightly as the proportions crossed from unrealistic into something that looked physically impossible, her avatar’s chest growing to the point where it completely broke the natural balance of her frame.
“…what the hell?”
She stared at it. Then looked down at her chest. Her shirt just extended with the size change. It looked like she had two elephant trunks in her shirt.
Then let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“There’s no way a woman could survive like this,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly. “Who even designed this—”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
Because she already knew.
“…men,” she said flatly.
The proportions were ridiculous. Impractical. Distorted to the point of looking like a caricature instead of a person. She held it there for a second longer, almost out of disbelief, then quickly dragged the slider back down.
Normal returned.
Mostly.
She paused again.
Her expression shifted slightly, more thoughtful now.
Then, with a small, almost self-conscious motion, she adjusted it again.
Not exaggerated.
Not unrealistic.
Just… a little more.
The change was subtle this time, settling into something that fit her frame better, filling out naturally without breaking proportions.
“…okay a C cup should be fine,” she murmured.
It didn’t feel fake.
It didn’t feel like she was turning into something else.
Just… adjusting.
She looked at herself for another second, then let out a quiet breath.
“Good enough.”
Her hand hovered over the rest of the options.
Then she stopped.
She didn’t need to change anything else.
“Accept.”
The system shifted.
Name selection appeared.
She hesitated.
Rebekah felt wrong.
Too formal. Too distant.
“Bekah.”
Then—
Mayweather.
If Erica was going to find her, she’d make it easy.
Accepted.
───
She dropped again, and this time nothing caught her.
“Wait—!”
The ground rushed up too fast for her to react, and when she hit, the impact knocked the air out of her in a sharp, jarring burst. It wasn’t pain the way she expected, not the kind that lingered or burned, but it was enough to leave her stunned for a second, her body registering the force before quickly stabilizing.
Bekah lay there, staring up at the red sky, her chest rising as she pulled in a steady breath.
“…well,” she muttered, her voice dry, “that’s one way to put players in your game.”
She rolled onto her side and pushed herself up, brushing sand from her hands as she slowly took in her surroundings. The desert stretched endlessly in every direction, heat pressing in around her as fine grains shifted under her boots. There was nothing out here. No buildings, no markers, no clear path forward. Just sand, distance, and the kind of open space that made it immediately obvious she was on her own.
She flexed her fingers, studying her hands again as if expecting something to feel off.
It didn’t feel exactly like real life.
But it was close.
Too close.
“…this is insane,” she murmured under her breath.
No signs. No instructions. No guiding voice telling her what to do next.
She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts catching up to her as she looked out across the empty horizon.
Should she wait for Erica?
Her fingers twitched slightly at the idea.
No.
She shook her head.
Games had a flow. There was always a flow. You didn’t just stand still and wait for someone to walk you through everything. You learned the systems, figured things out, got a feel for the mechanics, then linked up once you actually knew what you were doing.
Tutorial first.
Learn.
Get stronger.
Then meet up.
“…yeah,” she said quietly, more certain now. “Might as well make it easier for Erica instead of dragging her through the tutorial. She used to play games. She’s not a total noob. How hard could it be?”
Bekah took her first step forward into the desert, the sand shifting beneath her boots as the dry heat pressed in around her. The world felt too large, too real, too quiet in a way that made every movement stand out.
She didn’t know where she was going yet.
But she wasn’t going to stand still.
And somewhere behind her, just out of sight beneath the shifting sand, something had already started following her.