I whispered the curse under my breath, stepping back quickly and pressing myself behind a column. Then, cautiously, I peeked back out.
There, in the small but charming café inside the Continental Hotel’s lobby, sat Tim and Lola, surrounded by several colleagues. I had almost walked straight into them. My stomach clenched as I ducked behind a cluster of decorative bushes, my mind racing.
The problem? I didn’t want Lola or anyone else to find out I was about to rent a coffin.
Yes, a coffin—that’s what these so-called rooms were called. They looked eerily similar to the storage drawers in a morgue, so the name fit perfectly. Not exactly a dream stay, but I didn’t have many options.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think. I could wait them out, but there was no telling if they’d leave in five minutes or five hours, and I didn’t have that kind of time to waste.
The Continental was one of the cheapest hotels in town, but it had a surprisingly nice café. The public areas were clean and comfortable, and the food and drinks were cheap—exactly the kind of place my colleagues could hang around for a while.
So, what the hell was I supposed to do now?
Luckily for me, I had Flo.
The moment I let her take over, a solution presented itself. By the time I stepped into the hotel lobby, my face was no longer my own. Instead, I wore the features of a middle-aged woman—a dead ringer for that 'frog-lady' who did the weather forecast.
Perfect.
I walked straight to the reception, rented my coffin for ten hours, paid in cash, and hurried off… to my pajama party.
Setting up the game according to the instructions Helen sent me was no walk in the park. The embedded computer in the coffin resisted every attempt to make it cooperate, and only after fifteen minutes of awkward, contorted typing, I finally wrestled it into submission.
Gods, these coffins were not designed for work!
There was barely enough space to stretch out, let alone type comfortably. Lying on my back, I had to keep my hands in the air to interact with the virtual screen, my arms aching with every passing minute. Fifteen whole minutes of hands-up work. Unnerving! I had to keep shaking out my fingers just to get the blood flowing again.
But at last, it was done.
As soon as I launched the newly defined application, the system didn’t ease me in like Dreamland’s usual login sequence. There was no slow immersion, no gentle shift into the virtual space.
One moment, I was in the cramped, dimly lit coffin.
The next, I was somewhere else entirely.
Once the initial shock passed, I took a deep breath and surveyed my surroundings.
I was inside the Mephisto game world… but stuck in the setup area. As a ghost.
Damn.
I tried to log in.
“Call Calamity Lara.”
“Avatar not available. Select another/Create new.”
What? My heart skipped a beat. Was this the right game?
I hesitated, then tried again.
“Call Spartacius.”
“Avatar is not available for your credentials. Create new?”
I frowned. Okay, this was getting interesting.
“Status: Calamity Lara.”
“Avatar Level 95. Avatar logged out.”
That was a relief. She still existed.
“Recall.”
“Avatar Calamity Lara not found on Dreamland servers.”
Oh, fuck.
This was officially the day of ‘oh, fuck’ moments.
So, this was the right game… and I had taken Cala out.
What threw me off was that the system had actually registered that. I hadn’t expected that at all.
Stupid system.
Now what? How the hell was I supposed to put her back in? How did I even take her out in the first place?
I had materialized her in the real world, but… should that have deleted her from Dreamland’s servers?
That shouldn’t have happened. Right?
I was frustrated with the situation but trying to make the best of it.
"Let's forget the system," I said, "We're in Mephisto’s world—shouldn’t we just go directly to that lightfire you set? Would that work?"
Flo hesitated before answering.
"We’re a ghost in this world. What can we do as a ghost?"
I glanced down at my hands—transparent. Damn. She had a point. I looked around.
We were still in the setup area, a closed space that resembled a futuristic elevator cabin, sleekly designed with various controls and massive mirrors that doubled as digital displays.
"Oh, damn. If I make a new avatar, that would be a level one character!"
"Is there no way to bring Cala back in?"
"I don’t know. All these fucking computers seem capable of is projecting this ghost image of me." I held up my spectral hands again and pointed at my reflection in the mirror "Look— I even look like Cala. Do you see?"
"Yes. And not even like the frog-lady I disguised you. The system used your actual physical image."
