Chapter 3

I took a step forward. Then another.

The cobblestone streets stretched ahead, winding through a town that looked way too fancy for a starter zone. Normally, beginner areas had that charming, rundown, "we just got raided by bandits" aesthetic—wooden shacks, muddy roads, some grumpy old guy handing out rusty daggers.

Not here.

This place was clean. Gothic towers, fancy stonework, flickering lanterns that didn't even look like they were struggling to stay lit. It had that whole "old money" vibe, the kind of place where people didn't even pretend to work for a living.

And the people? Yeah, that's where it got weird.

The NPC men all looked like rich assholes. The kind of guys who show up to clubs in tailored suits and never have to pay for their own drinks. Perfect hair, expensive-looking clothes, permanently smug expressions. If NPCs could own yachts, these guys would have three.

Then there were the women.

Holy. Shit.

Every single one looked like someone had taken every anime waifu trope and dialed them up to eleven. Stupidly curvy, with huge tits, tiny waists, and hips that could take down a lesser man. Perfect skin, glossy lips, sultry eyes that looked like they belonged in some over-the-top romance visual novel.

They weren't just attractive. They were the kind of hot that actively rewired your brain.

And then there were the players.

Regular dudes. Nerd posture. Bad haircuts. Some gym bros here and there, but most looked like they crawled out of a Discord server after a 12-hour gaming session.

It was like stepping into a fantasy movie where the main cast was played by actual gods, and the extras were just a bunch of Twitch streamers who lost a bet.

I barely had time to process that before some guy in beat-up leather armor walked past and scoffed. "Another fresh one? Hope you last longer than the last guy."

I frowned. "Wait. What happened to the last guy?"

He just chuckled under his breath and kept walking.

Okay. Super comforting.

I sighed and pulled up my menu, tapping on the map tab.

A single name appeared.

Current Location: Shadow Land.

And… that was it. No world map. No explanation. No "Here's where you are, champ" tooltip. Just a big fat nothing.

That's when it hit me.

Georgio. That mustachioed fraud.

I replayed the "tutorial" in my head, if you could even call it that.

What did I actually learn?

✔ How to open my menu.

✔ How to pick a name.

✔ That my class name is Virgin Destroyer. (Still recovering from that one.)

What did I not learn?

❌ Where the hell I was.

❌ How this world actually worked.

❌ WHERE TO GET A GODDAMN WEAPON.

Yeah. Fantastic tutorial. Ten out of ten.

Alright. First goal? Find a quest.

Up ahead, I spotted a building with a swinging wooden sign—The Tavern of Shadows.

If fantasy games had taught me anything, taverns were where quests happened.

I stepped inside.

It was packed.

Not with loud, rowdy players, but with NPCs—drinking, talking, exchanging whispers that felt way too serious.

The players? Hunched in the corners, quiet, out of place. Like they knew they weren't running the show here.

At a side table, a grizzled old man chewed on a toothpick, watching me like he was already disappointed.

I walked up. "Hey. You got work?"

The old man squinted. "New blood, huh?"

He snorted. "Bring me five wolf pelts from the forest outside town. Do that, and we'll see if you're worth something."

I sighed. "Alright. Sounds easy enough."

Then my brain caught up.

"…Wait. I don't have a weapon."

Markus raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I said, I don't have a weapon. Tutorial didn't give me one."

Markus just stared at me. "That's not my problem. Every new player gets one in the tutorial."

Oh. You mean the fantastic tutorial where Georgio spent twenty minutes hyping up my class name but forgot to give me a goddamn sword?

I clenched my jaw. "Right. About that. My tutorial guide was… let's say distracted by his own dramatic flair. Can you, I don't know, help me out here?"

Markus smirked. "Sounds like you got scammed, kid."

I exhaled through my nose. Panic was starting to creep in.

This wasn't a game where I could just punch trees for wood and craft a beginner sword. There was no tutorial pop-up, no emergency loot chest for clueless idiots like me.

I clenched my fists. "Come on, man, I just got here. I don't have a weapon, I don't even know how this place works, and I'm supposed to fight wolves with my bare hands?"

Markus sighed, chewing his toothpick. "Not my problem."

My stomach tightened. I needed something. Anything.

I exhaled, trying not to let the frustration show. "Look… just lend me something. Anything. I'll bring it back, I swear."

Markus studied me for a moment. He didn't look amused. Didn't look sympathetic, either.

Just tired.

Then, with a grunt, he reached under the table and pulled out a wooden crate. Rummaged through it.

A second later, he dropped something into my hands.

A katana. Rusted, chipped, like it had been sitting in a basement for years.

I blinked. "Wait. Seriously?"

Markus grunted. "It's dull, and if you break it, I'm taking a finger."

I didn't even hesitate. "Deal."

I stepped out of the tavern, finally armed with something other than my sparkling personality.

Before I could even make it to the city gates, I saw a little girl sitting on the side of the road, crying.

I hesitated.

That's an NPC. A little girl NPC.

In any other game, she'd just be set dressing. Background noise.

But here… in DRO…

Something about the way her shoulders shook felt too real.

I sighed.

Guess the wolves can wait.

I walked over.

"Hey, kid," I said, crouching down. "You okay?"

The girl sniffled and looked up at me with big, teary eyes.

"I… I can't find my mommy…"

My stomach dropped.

Oh, shit.

Okay. This was already too real.

In any other game, lost child NPCs just stood around, waiting for someone to click on them. No emotion. No stress. Just a looping animation and a generic voice line.

But this kid? She was breathing unevenly, eyes red and puffy like she'd been crying for a while.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright, kid. Where'd you last see her?"

She sniffled. "M-Marketplace…"

I looked around. The Marketplace could mean a lot of things in a town this big. There were plenty of fancy-looking stalls and shops, but no frantic mothers running around screaming, "Where's my child?!"

Which meant either this was a scripted quest, or… something worse.

"Okay. I'll help you find her," I said, standing up.

The little girl blinked, like she hadn't expected me to say yes.

"Really?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just… stop looking at me like that, alright? It's guilt-tripping me into being a decent person."

She let out a small giggle, still sniffling, but at least she wasn't sobbing anymore.

Progress.

I held out a hand. "Come on, kid. Let's find your mom before she reports you missing to fantasy CPS."

She took my hand without hesitation.

Which, again, was way too real.

I exhaled, glancing at the Marketplace ahead. A few NPC merchants were still calling out to potential customers, pushing overpriced fruit and suspicious-looking potions. A couple of players lingered nearby, keeping to themselves.

I had no idea where to even start looking.

"Okay, so, uh… what's your mom's name?"

"Maribel," the girl mumbled.

I nodded. "Got it. We'll find her in no time."

That was a lie.

I had absolutely no plan.

And judging by how weird this game was, I had a feeling this wouldn't be as simple as talking to a quest NPC.

"Maribel," she had said. Lost in the crowd. Supposedly.

But after stopping at a few different stalls, it became painfully clear that no one knew who the hell Maribel was.

I wasn't surprised. NPC logic. Some only responded when they had the right trigger, and apparently, I hadn't found it yet. No big deal.

Before I could figure out my next move, someone called out to me.

"Hey, new guy!"

I turned to see a small group of players approaching. Unlike the NPCs—who all looked like they belonged in a fantasy drama—these guys looked like, well, regular dudes. A little unshaven, a little sweaty, and very, very stressed.

One of them, a lanky guy in mismatched armor, gave me a weird look. "Dude. How are you so chill right now?"

I blinked. "What?"

Another player, a stocky dude with a nervous twitch, waved his hands like he was trying to conduct an invisible orchestra. "We can't log out, man! We're stuck in here! You're just… walking around like it's no big deal!"

Oh. That.

Hadn't really thought about it yet.

I shrugged. "Huh. Didn't try that yet."

I pulled up my menu, tapped the Log Out button.

Nothing happened.

The option wasn't just disabled—it was grayed out, like it was never meant to be available in the first place.

I stared at it for a second, then closed the menu.

"Well," I said. "That sucks."

The players just gawked at me.

"That's it?! You're not freaking out?!"

"What do you want me to do, dude? Cry?"

The lanky one ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I mean—kind of?! This is life or death, man! What if we're trapped forever?!"

I sighed. "Okay, let's assume that's true. What's freaking out gonna do for you?"

The guy opened his mouth, then closed it.

"Exactly," I said, nodding. "I got a lost kid to deal with, so unless you guys have a lead on a missing lady named Maribel, I'm gonna keep moving."

And just like that, I turned and walked off, leaving them staring at me like I was some kind of sociopath.

Man. Some people really didn't handle MMOs well.

I glanced down at the little girl beside me. She had been watching me carefully the entire time.

"…What?" I asked.

She hesitated. "Are you… really not scared?"

I sighed. "Nah. I'll be fine. I always am."

She didn't say anything. Just kept watching me.

We walked in silence for a bit before she finally spoke again.

"There's an alchemy shop," she mumbled.

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"My… mommy might be there," she said hesitantly.

Finally. A lead.

"Alright," I said. "Let's check it out."

The shop itself looked different from the other buildings—darker wood, tinted windows. There were strange symbols carved into the doorframe, and the sign above the entrance simply read:

Nightwell Alchemy.

I exhaled. "Alright, kid. Let's see if your mom is inside."

She didn't say anything, just pushed the door open and hurried in.

I followed, and immediately felt out of place.

Jars of glowing liquid lined the walls, some bubbling softly, others filled with things that definitely used to be alive. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, filling the air with a sharp, earthy scent. The place had that "witch's workshop" aesthetic, and if this had been a normal game, I would've assumed I was about to meet some wrinkled old potion master.

Instead, the woman behind the counter was hot as hell.

Tall. Pale. Long, dark hair that cascaded down her back in perfect waves. Full curves that made her tight black dress work overtime.

And her eyes— green, glowing faintly in the dim light. Like she could see right through me.

She didn't look up at first, busy grinding something into a fine powder. "Back so soon, Elisabeth? I thought I told you to—"

Then she glanced up.

Her eyes landed on me.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then her lips curled into a very unimpressed smirk.

"…And what exactly is this?"

I raised a hand. "Uh. Hi?"

The little girl—Elisabeth, apparently—ran straight to her and latched onto her waist.

"Mommy!"

I froze.

Wait. What.

I stared at the kid, then back at the goth bombshell standing in front of me.

Mommy? There's no way.

I looked her up and down. Looked at the kid again.

I frowned. "…You had a kid at, what, age six?"

The woman sighed, rubbing her temples like she was already regretting this interaction. "I swear, the things that come out of your mouths…"

She finally focused on me. "Alright, player. Explain."

Right. Explaining. That thing I should probably be doing.

I scratched the back of my head. "Uh, yeah. So. Found your kid crying in the street. She said she lost her mom—she said her name was Maribel. Which, I'm guessing, isn't you."

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, but it was gone just as quickly.

"Maribel," she repeated flatly. Then she looked down at Elisabeth. "Really?"

The kid hid behind her skirt.

"…I panicked," she mumbled.

The woman sighed again, then turned back to me. "Well, since you've gone through the trouble of playing hero, I suppose I should thank you."

She didn't sound thankful.

"Right," I said. "So… what's actually going on here?"

The woman arched an eyebrow. "You're new here, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "That obvious?"

"Painfully."

She studied me for a moment, then smirked. "You're lucky, though. Most players don't walk into my shop without knowing who I am first."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you are…?"

She leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something dangerously smooth.

"Aveline Nightwell."

I had no idea what that meant.