12 - Pretentious Archmagus...

The night was serene. Dexter watched the waves breaking against the shore in an almost melodic rhythm. The campfire's glow danced across the walls of his newly built house. He sat outside on a fallen log, watching shadows flicker with the flames as thoughts of Alicia drifted through his mind. Inside, Stella had already claimed the king-size bed, but he didn't mind.

"Hey…" Stella's voice came from the doorway.

Dexter looked at her, then sighed.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked.

Stella sat beside him.

"I can't sleep. Too many things are bugging my mind… What about you? Why are you staying out here?"

"Then where else should I go? The old man doesn't want me in his house, and you've taken the bed. So what's left? Only here, right?"

"You… you could sleep… under the bed!" Stella stammered.

"You wish." Dexter smirked. "I don't want to sleep near some girl I just met—especially an AI."

"W-well, then I'll just stay out here too…"

"No, 'Princess.' I don't need your sympathy… really."

A quiet moment passed before Stella spoke again.

"Hey… can I ask you something personal?"

"What?"

"Hmm… what are you thinking about right now?"

"Nothing. Just my sister."

"So… you have a family too."

"Of course I do!"

Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"I… I had a family too," Stella murmured, her eyes fixed on the sky and point at a random star.

"There… that's where I'm from."

'This woman is seriously crazy…' Dexter thought.

"How the hell do you know that's where you came from?"

Stella smiled and laughed, a hollow sound.

"My mother said—before she died—that I just needed to look for a star. She told me the brightest one would be her." She laughed again, this time bitterly.

"Funny, right?"

'So even AIs have their own tragic backstories… What a damn world.'

Dexter smiled—a sad, hollow smile—as he remembered the person he used to be: a pro-gamer, a devoted son, a protective brother.

All of it had been ripped away by a single accident.

Fifteen years ago, he'd won his final championship. He'd been eager to return home, to share his victory with his family. But instead of celebrations, he received news of a car crash. His parents were gone. Only his baby sister survived—too young to remember them, too young to understand the loss.

And now? He'd been torn from that remaining family, dragged into this game without warning or consent. His sister was left completely alone.

Dexter's eyes teared up. He blinked twice, bit his lip, and wiped away silent tears with his shaking hands.

Post-traumatic tremors—the same ones that ended his pro career. The former child prodigy, once gaming's rising star at just fourteen.

Gaming had been his entire world, his singular focus since childhood. Now it was gone—vanished like a dream upon waking.

Reality consumed him whole. To support himself and his sister, he began working young, sacrificing his education. He told himself it was worth it if he could give her the life he'd dreamed of—one where money wasn't a constant struggle. He took whatever jobs he could find: waiter, construction worker, then factory worker once he came of age.

He became everything for his sister—mother, father, and brother all in one.

A burning tightness rose in Dexter's throat, threatening to choke him as he fought to hold back the tears.

"You know, Princess..." Dexter forced a smile, the corners of his lips trembling.

"I was once a hero in my world. They called me the Legendary Archmagus."

Stella studied his profile, her gaze intent as she absorbed every word.

"Then one day... I lost everything." He stared at his shaking hands, the tremors betraying him.

"Isn't that hilarious?" His laugh came out brittle, like glass about to shatter.

"My friends vanished. My relatives looked at me with pity. Everything I had—gone."

"They still call me a legend... just one they've buried in the past." He drew a shuddering breath.

"You know what I did?"

A pause stretched between them, filled only by the crackling fire.

"I tried to start over. To live like a normal person without my powers... But magic was all I knew. The one thing I was good at—" His voice broke.

"From Archmagus to a slave of gold. Tell me, Princess... what would you do in my place?"

His tear-filled eyes locked onto hers, raw and vulnerable.

'At least an AI won't judge me,' he thought bitterly.

Dexter had no idea he'd just revealed his vulnerability to someone exactly like himself—another player torn from another world and thrust into this game without warning.

Stella remained silent. She simply held his gaze, her eyes reflecting the firelight...

They sat in silence through the night, gazing at the stars, each lost in memories of their own world—until Stella finally dozed off, her head coming to rest against Dexter's shoulder.

He glanced at her briefly, then let her stay. No point in waking her.

'At least...for now, I'm not alone. Even if it's just an AI.'

Carefully, he scooped her up and carried her inside, settling her onto the bed. As he turned to leave, Stella's hand shot out, grasping his wrist. Even in sleep, she murmured:

"Don't… don't leave me… Father."

A faint smile touched Dexter's lips as he gently freed himself, tucking her hand back at her side.

"Sleep well, Princess," he whispered, drawing the blanket over her.

"Father isn't going anywhere."

Then he went outside and decided to take a nap beside the campfire.

...

Stella woke from a long dream. When she realized she was tucked neatly into bed with a blanket pulled over her, a faint blush warmed her cheeks.

She rose and stepped outside, where she found Dexter drenched in sweat from his morning sword drills.

"Good morning, Dex!" she beamed.

Between practiced slashes, Dexter barely glanced her way.

"You're up. Get the Fishing Twig—catch us breakfast, then start a fire to cook it. Go."

Stella's smile faded. The fragile connection they'd shared last night might as well have been a dream.