My name is Sebastian. I'm about twenty years old, on the cusp of twenty-one. I'm attending a local university in my city and I work part-time as a dishwasher at a family-owner restaurant.

  Last week, my sister Ada passed away.

  I attended her funeral yesterday. It was a private affair at her request, so only close friends and certain family members were invited. I was included in that group of family, the only others being a young cousin of mine as well as their parents. As for her friends, about five of them showed up. They were all people I'd never seen before in the city, so I imagine they'd probably drove or flown in for the funeral.

  The funeral itself wasn't anything particular, so I won't go into any detail. I received a few glances for my less than expected response to my sister's burial. I've always been one to keep my feelings to myself. I shed only a few tears and paid my condolences before leaving shortly after the burial was concluded. I will mention that nobody stopped me, nor messaged me afterwards. I do not think anybody was angry over it, mostly just a bit confused.

  My sister and I were very close with each other, so I imagine most of the people who attended expected me to be weeping or inconsolable. That's fine, I don't expect people to be okay with or understand my admittedly uncanny reactions to events like this. I shed my tears and I said goodbye, and that's all I needed. If anything, saying goodbye at the funeral was moreso because that's what you're supposed to do. I had already said my goodbyes to her in the hospital.

  Either way, it's in the past now. Yesterday is yesterday, and today is today.

  And today, I return home from work to my apartment still filled to the brim with unopened boxes. Before staying at the hospital, Ada had decided to give me a good majority of her belongings. She said to me, and I quote, "There's no way in hell I'm putting these in a will! Just take 'em yourself and save me the headache!" And so I took them.

  Most of the boxes were filled with various consoles and games, ones that she'd either collected over the years or had been using. I didn't really have an interest in using any of them, seeing as most of the games were either multiplayer or just not genres I enjoyed. I felt a bit of sadness knowing that I wasn't using the last things Ada gave to me before death, but I imagine she knew I wouldn't have much interest in these anyways. We both really knew she just wanted to make sure nobody in our family would go and sell this stuff off.

  I walk past the boxes so I could sit on my couch and unwind for the day, but I notice out of the corner of my eye that one of the boxes is open. That's odd, I made sure that every box was sealed before I left for work today. Walking over, I open the cardboard box to take a peek inside before I seal it back up again.

  The box itself was probably the smallest of them all, sitting atop another much larger one that took up most of the living room. Inside the open box was a singular game case. I picked it up and looked over it. On the cover was a group of fantasy adventurers all with fantastical weapons and magic rushing towards a giant black dragon. My eyes drift up the case to the title written in fanciful lettering. Origin of Hero.

  Pretty strange name, I thought to myself as I flipped the case over to read the synopsis on the back.

  "In a world flooded with forces of both dark and light, will you rise to the challenge, o hero? An all-new VRMMO set in the beloved Origin series! Pick up your blade and set out on adventure in a breathtaking fantasy world! Meet other adventurers, explore dungeons, raid castles, or even make your own story in this immersive experience."

  "Be your own hero, make your own origin!"

  That final line brings back memories from a few years ago. Ada raved to me constantly over the phone about this new game, texting me countless commercials and reviews of it in an attempt to get me to play it with her. I always told her that I had no interest in multiplayer games, let alone something as expansive and immersive as a VRMMO. She always seemed a little disappointed when I told her that, but never surprised. She'd just let out a sigh, shake her head, and call me various silly insults before asking how my day went.

  I let out a small huff as I go to place the case back down, only to notice a corner of some paper peeking out from the case. Intrigued, I pop open the case and catch the paper as it flutters out. It was a small paper with a note written on it, the sides ripped, the paper itself probably yanked from a notebook. I take the note out, mumbling to myself as I read it.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  "hey doofus, i kno you hate mmos and shit but give this one a shot for me, please? dying girl's wish, gotta respect! plus i already paid for like two months on my subscription so i don't want my money to go to waste, now u GOTTA play!!!"

  The rest of the note is covered in exclamation marks, going all the way from the middle to the bottom. The only space not covered at the bottom by exclamation marks was a small corner with an arrow pointing, telling me to flip the note over, so I do. On the backside of the note are what looks like a username and password. Additionally, she left her e-mail login details as well, probably so I could get by any sort of verification problems.

  Urgh, now I really wish I hadn't read this note. Not playing these games could at least be justified by her not specifically asking me to play them, just take them off her hands... but now she's left me a note basically commanding me to.

  I sigh as I neatly fold the note and tuck it into the case. Then, I take the cartridge for the game out of its holder. The cartridge itself is a sleek black but rather wide thing. There's an engraving of the game's name on the front, and the bottom has an opening for all of its technological bits to plug into the console. Just by looking at the cartridge, I can already tell this game is meant for a fully immersive VR set. Most full VR games tend to come in large cartridges or multiple discs to contain all the data required to accurately emulate an immersive full body experience.

  It reminds me of the time I spent around three hours watching various interviews and documentaries on the subject of the dangers and risks of full VR experiences. I sent a lot of them to Ada that day, and her response to every single one was either a dissatisfied emoji or various one word responses like, "dude" and "bro".

  Looking back, it might've been a bit in poor taste to be sending those sorts of things to her, but I really meant no harm. I just liked to share things that intrigued me with her and the thought that it was something that would annoy her slipped my mind, I guess.

  I sigh again, putting the game back into its case and closing it for now. I set it on top of another nearby box and move the now empty box I was just rummaging through over. Ada knew me well, and knew that I'd honor her wish to at least try the game considering it's now her final wish or as she put it, a "dying girl, gotta respect!"

  Having packed up all the boxes with her, I already know what's in most of them, excluding a few specific ones Ada packed herself which includes the box with her little note inside. After fiddling with the tape for a bit, I manage to get a grip and rip it from the box's top. The two portions open off this large box, the largest of them all. Inside the box was Ada's VR set. She had wanted me to take the entire thing, including the expensive chair. Sadly, I told her my apartment had no room to spare for such a large thing and that I wasn't going to pay money to have people come out and install the chair somewhere in my house. She tried to insist that it was the best gaming experience I would ever have, but eventually she relented and settled on just packing up the actual console itself, which detached from the chair.

  The parts of the console I did take home were just the essential pieces, although it seems Ada snuck in a few extra bits and bobs, seeing as I don't remembering putting them in the box. I ignore the extra parts for now and get to work taking out and assembling the console.

  I suppose just a few hours to try the game out wouldn't hurt too much.

  After about two hours or so of looking up installation guides and regretting not packing the manual for the console along with it, I manage to get the console working. The machine itself was a long white rectangle with various openings for venting and cords. It didn't have much else besides an opening for cartridges as well as a disc drive.

  On my couch sat the actual headset — in the same color as the console. It came paired with two wristbands, ones that were meant to detect medically related things like your pulse and such. With a sigh, I pick up the wristbands and undo the velcro so I could strap them on. Both of them come open with a rip and easily snap back together once around my wrists. I pick up the headset next as I sit down on the couch, then I lay down to get comfortable like the guide suggested.

  With the cartridge already slotted into the console, all I have to do now is put the headset on and power it up. I mess with the straps on the headset so it won't squeeze my head tightly, seeing as how the headset previously belonged to someone just a bit smaller than myself. After that's settled, I slip it on over my face. All I can see now is the basic light gray interface of the console's main menu. Having not entered a game yet, I have to manually select the game to enter in.

  A series of pop-up windows appear before me as I try to select the MMO. Most of them were generic warnings making sure I'm in a safe space before entering, so I quickly skim them before closing. The last window is a confirmation as to whether I'm ready to interface into the game or not.

  For a few moments, I hesitate. My eyes slowly drift towards the red "no" button, wanting to ignore her note and put this all away. I really don't like these sorts of games, they just weren't for me. But, my obligation wins out in the end and I click the confirm button.

  The gray menu fades to black, leaving me with an uncomfortably long pause to think over my choice. Before I'm able to have any regrets though, the game's logo flashes onto the screen, before large text appears under it.

  INTERFACING: START!

  5%

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