[Divine system: Save point loading-----]
[1ST POV INITIALIZED]
"You must take one card from my right hand," the white-haired man said in a calm, mysterious tone. "And you may take the other two from either hand."
His eyes were deep purple—an uncommon sight in this era, where people usually relied on plastic surgery to achieve such features. But this looked completely natural to me.
"That makes three cards in total," he continued.
He handled the forty‑four cards with effortless skill, splitting them into two piles as if it were nothing. Since the seventy‑eight‑card deck had fallen out of favor, and the cards didn't seem very thick, I was sure this was the forty‑four‑card version.
Without thinking, I took two cards from his left hand and one from his right. He smiled as he returned the remaining cards to his pocket while I stacked my three selections neatly on my right palm.
Now that I held the three cards, I wondered what his reading would reveal. He reached into my hand, drew one card, and turned it over to show me the symbol. Before exposing it, he added, "Normally I'd have you choose four cards, but since you're in a hurry, I'll read only three."
Was this man trying to con me?
"Just read it for me—three cards are fine; I am in a hurry," I said, forcing an indifferent tone.
He nodded and revealed the first card: a tower struck by lightning. "Hmm," he murmured. "This card means you'll face a challenge or crisis that will have a significant impact on your life and those around you. It may be painful, but it also brings an opportunity for growth."
I wanted to tell him I was already in the middle of a crisis, but I knew hardships were universal. The reading felt vague—broad enough to apply to anyone—so I kept my thoughts to myself and watched.
He drew another card from my hand, leaving only one. After a quick glance he revealed it: a purple star centered between a red moon and a blue sun. Paired with the Tower, this card—often a sign of good fortune—hinted at the collision of illusion, fantasy, and reality. He described it as "Good Fortune, getting lost in a maze of dreams and waking life, you will have a chance to peek beyond the veil."
Were these readings a deliberate attempt to target me? However, given the recent events that had disturbed my perception of reality, such as the fall of the tower in Eternia City in the VR game and my conflict with the Orc demon lord in TWOD, it made sense intellectually.
From the moment I woke up, I couldn't shake the strange dream I'd had. And during the short break between school, I played TWOD. That's when I met a demon lord in a hidden quest with Lasiv—no longer just an NPC, but a truly sentient being. Then the "Indestructible Tower of Eternia" started falling apart, and it ultimately led to real-life injuries for the players.
His reading appeared to be right thus far, but it was still too general to be specific to me.
"Now, onto the next card," he exclaimed excitedly.
I was stunned when he took the final card from my hand and showed it to me. What is this card?
It was a blank card, a white emptiness with no image on it. Why is there no image on it? Perplexed, I asked.
"This third card represents you. Anyways, I'm in a hurry now. See you later," the man said, grinning and turning away from me.
I should use those terms!
For a moment, I stood in shock, attempting to comprehend what he had said. Was he implying that, like that third card, I was worthless? Even though I was the one who had first attempted to flee, I felt a nervous impulse to approach him as I watched him go. "Wait, explain it to me!" Unconsciously, I yelled after him as he got farther away, startling myself.
However, he vanished into the throng, leaving me perplexed. Given that the majority of his reading had been right, however broad, I might be able to interpret this as an indication that he truly knew how to play mind games.
However, he was almost impossible to track—this was rush hour for both workers and students, and the crowd had already gathered in front of the Skyport. I scanned my surroundings, but all I could see were people blocking my view as they streamed in the same direction as me.
Then I understood: he wasn't hard to find—he was playing with me. So I forced myself to steady my breath and kept walking straight toward the Skyport. The five-meter-tall white aluminum gate swung open to let everyone through. I stepped into the bus station without hesitation, while the rest pushed forward.
Inside the station, vending carts stood shoulder-to-shoulder, each offering something different—tacos, fresh made sandwiches, and coffee beans. Some were family-run startups; others belonged to established companies. Farther down the corridor were branded fast-food chains, but I didn't usually eat there—I was too focused on maintaining my health.
I walked straight to a cart in the middle of the lineup. Next to it, a projector cast a holographic sign onto the floor: "Fresh coffee beans, no artificial powder." I knew the owner. She was well-known across the Singa Sanctuary continent, and everyone knew her for the image she presented.
She wouldn't normally sell here, because doing so would expose who she really was.
But today was different. I knew her grandmother had been in the hospital for a while.
A few people were already in line, placing coffee orders. Since the barista wore a mask, some of them couldn't help staring at her—curiosity flickering across their faces. I waited patiently until the line cleared.
Then it was my turn.
I stepped up to the girl with blue hair—hair so vivid it almost looked unreal, framed by gorgeous blue eyebrows and lashes. Her hood covered her hair now, but it couldn't hide it completely. There was a faint red tint in her blue eyes, like a sunset mirrored on the sea. Even behind the mask, I could tell her hair fell down to her neck.
She wore a white sleeveless shirt under a dark blue leather jacket.
She rarely showed any emotion. Instead, her demeanor was serious and steady—focused as if she were built for work. She had a model-like figure, though she didn't come off as "pretty" in the usual way. Rather, she had a stylish, slightly endearing presence.
In truth, she was a childhood friend of mine—and also a co-owner of her grandmother's coffee cart. I hadn't seen her until her adopted grandmother's heart attack a few days ago, though. Now Stella was working in her place. We'd known each other for a long time, but we weren't particularly close, as we had been separated many years ago.
Moments later, a wave of customers rushed in. Since I hadn't ordered yet, I stepped aside to make a path for them.
A man with short red hair scanned the area, his brow furrowed. "Where is the usual barista? The one who's been here but missed for the past few days?"
The woman behind the counter answered plainly, "She's in the hospital right now. I'm filling in for her."
"I see. Sorry for asking," he replied, his expression softening. "I hope she has a speedy recovery. Anyway, I'll take a simple black coffee with 20% sugar."
"Of course. Please take a seat nearby."
He sat down, looking concerned, as the other customers began placing their orders one by one. Soon, the cafe was bustling, and the seats were filled with patrons. Finally, it was my turn.
I leaned in slightly and whispered, as it was my turn to give the order, "Aren't you afraid of being exposed here?"
Stella—the blue-haired girl—ignored me for a moment and kept working. She shut the black, square-shaped machine after sliding a paper cup inside. Then, when she poured coffee beans into it, holographic screens unfolded from the box in front of her. A soft electric sound filled the air as the machine started brewing, and the display activated with the simple tap of her finger.
"My grandma wants her coffee beans to keep selling—especially to you," she said, finishing her task.
"You didn't answer my question..."
She turned to face me and continued.
"Don't worry, I can change my tone," she said in her natural voice. Then, she seamlessly switched to a completely different one—it sounded like an entirely different person, yet remained pleasant. "But I have to keep doing this job. People won't recognize me unless you reveal who I am." She shot me a sharp glance.
"With your money," I replied, "you could just hire someone to do this for you!"
Stella shook her head. "This might be the last day for the shop," she said. "So, I figured I might as well come in personally to reignite my passion for being a barista."
Her words stunned me. This was my favorite small coffee shop in the Sector 2 Dome. The price was reasonable as well.
"How about starting a coffee farm?" I asked, my voice rising a little louder than I intended. "You have the resources for it—you're a popular singer."
The moment the words escaped my mouth, I realized how rude I sounded.
Stella's eyes widened like she wanted to slap me on the spot. I hurried to fix it, blurting, "Stella—the singer—also loves coffee."
The patrons nearby turned and stared.
"I'm also one of her admirers," Stella replied immediately, lowering her voice. "I'll give you a discount—I'm a fan, too."
Even through her mask, her words came out crisp, clear, and with a low pitch that didn't match her real voice—yet it sounded completely natural. The customers quickly looked away, no longer suspecting that the blue-haired girl in front of them was actually Stella, one of Sector 2 Dome's most talented singers.
Once the customers stopped paying attention to us, Stella spoke in her natural, stern voice.
"I have another goal in mind. I'll talk to our band members when we have time."
That was right—she was one of my band members, just working under a different name and identity. She had joined my band first, then later went solo under her real name. Even so, she never truly left the group. She still worked with us—always masked, always slightly altering her voice so she wouldn't be recognized.
Taking advantage of the moment, I asked about the "discount."
"I'm sorry about your grandma," I said, careful with my tone. "But are you serious about the discount?"
She lifted her eyebrows and replied flatly, "No discount. You need to suffer to understand the value of money."
Of course, being born an orphan meant I never had the luxury Setsuna or Shan did—having sisters who handed them coins to pursue what they loved. I knew the value of money all too well.
But I wasn't here to argue, so I let it go.
I forced a stiff smile and said, "Give me a fresh coffee. It's been a rough morning."
She answered without any emotion. "Alright. That'll be 50 coins."
Hearing her natural voice made me uneasy. Even as an idol, it felt like another mask—another role. The real Stella was frightening: calculating, calm… almost like a psychopath.
"50 coins?" I frowned. "Why did the price of coffee beans suddenly jump?"
She sighed and answered, "Real coffee beans are hard to get these days. Most of what's on the market are clones—that's why the price is climbing."
Then she added, her tone flat with disappointment, "And my grandma stopped harvesting from her farm for a while. Limited supply, high demand."
She spoke a little louder on purpose—loud enough for the other cart owners nearby to hear.
When she said that, several of the nearby coffee cart owners shot her intimidating looks before turning back to their own businesses. Most of them used clone beans. Stella's, on the other hand, were authentic.
I nodded, trying to look mildly disappointed as I realized I'd just spent 50 coins on a single coffee.
I pulled out my tablet—shaped like a vertical rod—and positioned the holographic projecting lens to scan the QR code on the panel in front of me. After a quick swipe, an instant notification confirmed the payment.
[Bio-chip activated]
[You have just spent 50 coins.
Remaining coins: 23025 coins]
Even though her coffee didn't hit me with that "invigorated" feeling—no rush of blood, no sudden surge of strength—I still felt it was worth the price. Mornings were for ordering coffee from her shop.
"Go find a seat somewhere," the blue-haired girl said. "All the seats here are taken. Once I'm done making the coffee, I'll notify you."
As I turned to search for a seat, her calm yet powerful voice cut through the noise.
"Oh," she said, and I straightened immediately. "I forgot to mention—have you seen the news about the incident in TWOD? And were you logged in during the incident?"
Her eyes never left me, as if she already knew I'd have to answer—no matter what.
Damn it. Why does everyone keep asking me about TWOD?
The question caught me off guard, but I kept my expression unchanged. Remembering Shan's advice, I knew better than to reveal too many details about what I had done this morning.
So I answered as evenly as I could. "I saw the news during my walk to the station. It's such an unpredictable accident… people are really getting hurt. I wonder what will happen to TWOD."
The blue-haired girl's brows tightened. "I expected you to be more honest than that," she said, voice steady. "Especially since you're the leader of our band."
She waved a hand dismissively, like I was interrupting her work, then went right back to the coffee machine—pouring coffee beans into the opening above it.
Her words made it sound like she already knew I'd been there during the event. That meant it was safer to keep playing dumb, especially since I wasn't sure what she was really planning.
Before I left, I asked, "Stella, just make the coffee for me. Also—have you practiced for this evening's gig?"
She winked at me. Even through her mask, her smile came through, teasing and assured. She didn't answer directly, but the gesture alone was enough to show she was confident about tonight.
Stella was incredibly self-assured—almost scarier than Setsuna. Setsuna was hot-headed and blunt, but Stella was calm and controlled, able to shift her "persona" at will.
And she wasn't just good at singing. She was also an excellent hover-motorcycle racer. It was like she could handle anything on her own.
After I reminded her to focus on making the coffee, I moved past a domestic cleaning robot—about the size of a husky—vacuuming dirt off the white aluminum floor.
A male robotic voice repeated itself as it scanned people approaching it:
[Please get out of the way for your safety.]
Over and over again.
I found a nearby bench and sat down, waiting for my order to be ready. I pulled out my tablet again and opened a holographic display. Then I went to the internet search bar and looked up the users' names.
Lasiv and her friends still wouldn't leave my mind. After all, they defeated the Demon Lord with abilities that seemed to defy the power hierarchy of the game TWOD. It felt like they knew something the general public didn't.
I suddenly realized I wasn't stuck in a small problem anymore.
This was bigger—far bigger—than I'd understood at first.