In just a few seconds, cold sweat drenched Orson's back like a waterfall.
That disheveled white silhouette standing at the door looked exactly like Sadako from that ancient horror film he once saw at the orphanage.
The moment Sadako crawled out of the TV screen had left little Orson with a high fever and a childhood trauma that lingered to this day.
But times had changed. The age of holograms had replaced TV screens, and Sadako had apparently upgraded—she now crawled through doors.
As a thousand thoughts raced through his mind, the pale figure drifted closer. Orson nearly screamed on the spot.
She stopped right in front of his gaming pod.
Frozen in place, Orson instinctively held his breath.
There was a rumor that ghosts and spirits couldn't see the living if they stopped breathing...
A cool breeze swept in through the window and brushed against his face. His entire body turned to stone.
He thought to himself, "I've got over 7 million HP—I can hold my breath for hours. Bring it on, ghost!"
And so, the standoff began. One man. One ghost.
Outside, dark clouds rolled across the night sky. A beam of moonlight streamed in.
Orson kept his head low and still. But under the edge of that white sleep dress… was a bare, delicate foot.
It wasn't translucent. Was it a real person? Or some kind of illusion?
He reached out slowly. The touch was cold—not alive.
Orson's brain kicked into high gear. As a seasoned leg connoisseur, he could tell from the foot's shape and size exactly who it belonged to.
Had she really taken it that hard? He'd only shouted at her—was she so fragile she'd take her own life and come back as a ghost to haunt him?
No way. That was taking things too far.
"B-Blank? Hey, let's talk this out. Every grudge has its source, right?"
"Orgod insulted you, not me, Orson. I'm innocent."
Orson put on his toughest face, still trying to talk his way out of it.
The next second, two hands grabbed his shoulders.
"Why did you do that to me?" a voice demanded.
Before he could react, Orson was shoved back into his gaming pod.
Blank lifted her hand, brushing back her waterfall of jet-black hair.
Orson blinked in stunned silence. Under the pale moonlight, her face looked impossibly beautiful, her eyes shimmering with emotion.
"Wait… you're not dead? Thank god!" Orson exhaled in relief.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she straddled his waist, her curves pressing close in a posture that was, frankly, a little too suggestive.
"Sienna said you liked me. Well? How exactly does that work?" she asked.
"Am I pathetic, huh? Tell me, Orson! Am I?!"
Blank was furious, shame burning in her eyes.
"Well… from a psychological standpoint, everyone has a little self-destructive streak," Orson stammered.
"But from a roommate and teammate perspective, if you can't tell kings from jokers, that's a personality flaw. Don't worry, I can fix you."
He flashed her a confident grin like he was totally into her.
"Answer me straight, Orson!"
Blank's face darkened. She grabbed his collar and glared down at him, ready to throw hands.
"Wait, hold on. Are you asking what I like about you… or whether you're pathetic?"
Orson asked meekly, looking a bit guilty.
Blank nearly lost it on the spot. She clenched her teeth and hissed, "Both."
But the moment she said it, regret hit. Her heart started racing.
What if… Sienna had been right?
A strange joy bloomed in her chest—but also confusion.
She didn't understand how he "liked" her, and it made her feel like she was reaching for something that kept slipping away.
Orson opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. The smile on his face faded into something almost regretful.
"I searched my entire inventory," he murmured, "and I couldn't find anything worthy of you."
Blank froze, her eyes glimmering with fresh tears.
That one line shattered her defenses. For the first time, she saw herself reflected in his eyes—bright, important.
"I saw you standing alone once. I hated that I couldn't help you," Orson thought.
In their past life, Orson, Madman, Bradley, and Blank had briefly teamed up.
Blank had always been cold on the outside, but her tongue was sharper than Madman's. She'd lost someone dear. That pain never faded.
And she was strong—so strong that she'd saved the team more times than anyone could count.
Orson had done everything to ease her burdens, but he'd been too weak. Most of the time, he was just dead weight.
To the world, Blank was the god-tier assassin: beautiful, powerful, unstoppable.
But Orson saw through it. Just like him, she was another broken soul—fighting to forget the past.
"I probably can't give you anything…"
"Don't say it. Shut up."
Before he could finish, Blank gently pressed a finger to his lips. Tears slid down her cheeks, landing softly on his shirt.
She was blushing now, body burning with heat. Slowly, she leaned down and kissed him.
Orson was surprised—but smiled into it.
Warm lips. Warm heart.
Two lonely souls, caught in a fleeting moment of connection, emotions surging uncontrollably.
Even if it didn't last.
The hallway light flipped on.
"Damn it! I told them to log off and chill, and those two are probably tearing each other apart."
"If that guy loses it and casts a spell, my whole figure collection's toast! Those are limited-edition Godslayer Madman figures!"
Bradley's voice echoed down the hall.
He kicked the door open, panicking. "Orson! Emma! Don't fight—let's talk it out like adults!"
Seeing Orson pinned beneath Blank, Bradley's brain shut down. "Uh… whose side am I supposed to take here?"
A swarm of people piled up behind him for what was supposed to be a dramatic intervention.
"I'll smack some sense into—uh…"
Orson's face went completely pale. This was officially the most embarrassing moment of both his lives.
"In my professional opinion," Ruby said, eyes wide and gleaming, "they're trying out a new position."
She tugged on her brother's ear to pull him back.
Madman coughed. "Uh… guild leader, take care of your health. Game pod tops are cold—don't catch a cold."
Dancing Giant Boobs added, "Young folks these days. No sense of privacy."
The two of them flew apart like lightning, planting themselves in separate corners.
Blank's ears turned beet red. She looked like she wanted to die.
One moment of boldness… a lifetime of social death.
"Everyone, I can explain," Orson said, sitting up and forcing a serious expression. "My game pod malfunctioned."
"Blank has a level-12 AI engineering certification. She was helping me fix a runtime error."
She glared at him with pure humiliation and muttered something under her breath.
Orson blinked. He could've sworn the secret code she whispered was: