Unholy Player Chapter 4: A Tragic Past (Part 2)

Adyr gazed into the depths of the tomato soup—and found the soup gazing back at him.

Two circular shapes drifted upon the surface, motionless and observant.

In an instant, the world began to warp.

A crimson tint flooded his vision, bleeding across the room until every corner was dyed the exact shade of the broth.

The sensation washed over him.

He recognized the signs of what was approaching.

The unavoidable was here, and he was already too late to stop it.

Then, the voice manifested.

"Son."

It was toneless. Frigid. Remote.

The word resonated—not from the surrounding air, but from a place much deeper within.

"Stop," Adyr croaked, his voice trembling. Despite his plea, the voice persisted.

"Son."

Driven by instinct, he squeezed his eyes shut. He had always sought refuge in the dark.

Yet even in the shadows, it cornered him. "Son. Finish your food. We wouldn't want your sister to go to waste... would we?"

His eyelids snapped open in a desperate attempt to flee. However, the light only served to sharpen the hallucination.

The face appeared before him. She was a young girl with cascading blond hair.

She watched him through dark, hollow pits where her eyes should have been.

Thick, crimson tears traced paths down her porcelain skin.

Slowly, her pale lips curled open.

"Brother."

Then, as suddenly as it arrived, the vision shattered.

The red hue dissolved.

The ghostly visage evaporated.

Niva stood there instead, her features pinched with anxiety and her tone soft. "Brother? Are you okay?"

Adyr’s gaze remained blurred as he looked at her, struggling to convince his mind that he had returned to the present and that the ghosts of his childhood had retreated.

"I'm..." He gasped for air, his lungs still fighting for a steady rhythm. "...fine."

"I'm sorry," Niva whispered, her heart aching for him as she pulled him into a firm embrace, trying to offer some semblance of peace. "I didn't know the trauma was still there."

The trauma she referred to was not his true burden—the horrors of his previous life—but rather the history he had fabricated for himself in this world.

Following his reincarnation, Adyr had been discovered as an infant outside the city walls and taken to the local orphanage. He spent eight years there before Marielle, an employee at the facility, brought him into her family.

Whenever someone questioned his peculiarities—such as his intense loathing of soup—he would simply blame the orphanage and its wretched cooks.

"It's okay. It's not your fault," Adyr murmured, accepting his sister's comfort.

"I'll fix you something else. You don't have to eat this," Niva said urgently. She snatched the bowl and hurried toward the kitchen.

Adyr watched her go, exhaling as he released the spoon he had been clutching. A small streak of blood stained the metal handle and his skin. That sharp, grounding sting had been the very thing to pull him back from the brink.

As it often was, pain was his only reliable anchor to the real world.

He used a napkin to clean the blood just as Niva reappeared carrying a plate.

"There was some canned salami left, so I made a sandwich. Is that better?" Niva asked tentatively, her voice heavy with worry.

"It's perfect. Thanks," he answered with a weary smile. He went to take a bite, but a sudden knock at the door halted him.

"Is that Marielle?" He asked, pausing with the sandwich in hand.

"I don't think it's Mom. She said she'd be working late," Niva replied, already making her way to the hall. "I'll get it. You go ahead and eat."

A moment later, Niva walked back in, carrying a massive box with a look of sheer bewilderment.

"This was delivered for you," she noted, placing the package on the table.

While not overly heavy, the box was undeniably bulky. Her confusion stemmed from the fact that all city deliveries were handled by a high-end logistics firm with exorbitant fees. Whoever sent this possessed significant wealth.

"Do you know what it is? Who sent it?" She pressed, leaning in with obvious hope that he would open it immediately.

Adyr stood up and began to unseal the package with a calm demeanor, looking as though he had been expecting the arrival. Once the top was open, a small note was revealed, resting neatly on the contents.

A soft sound escaped his nose—somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh.

"It's from a friend," he remarked casually.

Niva leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with interest.

When he pulled back the final layer of packaging to show what lay inside, she gasped audibly.

"Wait... is that a game helmet?!"

Like everyone residing in the twelve cities, Niva was well aware of the hype surrounding the new VRMMO. More than the game itself, she knew the staggering price of the equipment—this was no casual gift.

"I can't wait to pass the entrance exams and start making rich friends like you," Niva remarked with a dramatic sigh.

She longed to play as well, but the forums were clear: once a game helmet was activated, it bonded to the user's brainwaves. Sharing was impossible. Borrowing her brother's was out of the question.

As she used that disappointment to fuel her resolve to study, another knock echoed through the apartment.

"Now, who could that be?" She mumbled, shaking off her daydreams.

She returned to the door and came back with a second box—this one even larger than the first, which she balanced carefully.

"Let me guess. Another rich friend?" She asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"I guess?" Adyr answered, sounding genuinely unsure. This delivery was a surprise even to him.

Upon opening the box, he was greeted by a cake protected by a transparent dome. It was smothered in a vibrant red glaze and adorned with glistening, fresh cherries.

"Ahhhh! Is that a cake?! Are those cherries? Sour cherries?!" Niva shrieked with excitement, her eyes widening. She seemed far more thrilled by the dessert than the game helmet. For someone in her position, fresh fruit on a cake was a luxury reserved for perhaps once or twice a year.

She eagerly lifted the cake out, revealing another game helmet resting beneath it... along with a second note.

In contrast to Victor’s messy scrawl, this note was written on vibrant pink paper that carried a faint, sugary scent. The penmanship was graceful and meticulous.

At the bottom, the signature read:

"Selina White?" Niva tore her gaze away from the cake to squint at the name. "Why does that sound familiar?" She pondered aloud. Then, the realization hit her like a thunderbolt. "Wait—what?! No way. That's her?!"

"You know her?" Adyr asked, his curiosity piqued.

Niva spun to face him, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "What do you mean do I know her? Of course I do! Everyone my age knows who Selina White is."

She began ticking off points on her fingers, her voice rising with enthusiasm.

"She was the top-ranked person in Young Influentials Monthly, she’s famous for her charity work with orphans, she's incredibly brilliant, and I mean, look at her! She's stunning."

Her tone then turned serious. "And her mother? She’s the Chairwoman of the Angel Wing Foundation. She literally owns the orphanage where our mom works." She paused, looking at him with doubt.

"...Brother. Are you seriously dating our mom's boss's daughter?"

"I'm just helping her with her piano lessons," Adyr replied evenly as he pulled the second helmet from the box.

"Piano lessons? Since when do you know how to play piano?" Niva asked, her suspicion growing. Before she could interrogate him further, Adyr interrupted.

"It's for you," he said, extending the helmet toward her.

Niva stared at the sleek, gray device. It looked like a high-tech motorcycle helmet, absent the visor.

Adyr watched as a storm of emotions crossed her face. She seemed to be having a silent debate with herself. Finally, she spoke.

"I think you should send it back," she said softly. "It's way too expensive. I can't accept something like that." After a brief hesitation, she added, "And with the entrance exams just two months away, I don't want to get distracted by a game."

"That's a smart call," Adyr agreed with a smile, returning the helmet to its packaging. He reached for the cake next, intending to pack it away as well, but Niva’s hand clamped down on his with surprising strength.

"Leave the cake," Niva declared, her voice firm and her expression dead serious.

It was clear the cake wasn't going anywhere.