Chapter 124: Sentimental I

The concert lasted three hours. It was a compilation of Ari’s best hits, full of long, old school romance songs that nearly brought Sun-young to tears at the high points.

Alas, not everyone shared her feelings.

“That was overrated as hell.”

“It was not.”

“The audience was so dull!”

“Because she’s singing at a venue! It’s not a concert!”

“I was told it was a concert!”

The back and forth between William and David was fun to listen to. The younger male was adamant that it was boring. Sun-young recalled him yawning at one point, specifically when David said he did not appreciate his lack of manners. This was in the middle of the chorus too.

“I was expecting a serious concert experience!” William said. “The stuff you see in movies and the internet! Everybody being drunk and dancing and partying. But no, we just sat and listened to some romance.”

“It’s a Korean ballad!”

“Whatever that is.”

Marta chuckled. Walking beside her, Sun-young asked, “What did you think?”

“I liked it. It was quiet and I’m no good with loud people, so William’s complaints are my compliments.”

“Me neither. Was this your first concert?”

Because it certainly was Sun-young’s.

“A couple times during college,” Marta replied. “My sorority loved them. Me, not so much. I don’t remember much besides the screaming.”

Regardless of what William said, the concert ended up being fun. No wonder Ari, a singer, was able to collect the points to enter Gate 8. She must have given a hefty paycheck for the number of people she drew in. Every little seat was taken.

’I do wonder how Ari died. I bet it’s super big news regardless,’ Sun-young thought. ’I know my mom would be sad about her death. Probably more than mine.’

There was a large fountain ahead with steaming water cascading down from the top. The water glimmered from the light of the shopping centre. There was an American photographer approaching every person that walked nearby, shouting, “Photos! Photos! Come get a group photo! Make some memories!”

The photographer spoke in the thickest New York accent ever. It was a shock, to be honest. Sun-young assumed it was a stereotype in American movies. Guess not.

Sun-young’s gaze lingered for a little too long because the New Yorker noticed her and instantly closed the distance between them. There was no escaping from his advertisements.

“Hey, hey! You want a photo? Come on, the water is so beautiful!” The New Yorker shouted, gesturing at the fountain behind him.

“Uh… No, thank you,” Davjd replied nervously. The group tried to make their way past the photographer swiftly. If Kazi was here, they probably would have. Without him though, they were stuck.

“Come on! Don’t you want to make some memories?” the photographer pressed, getting in their personal space. His thick accent made it even louder and more grating. “You can get the photo if you you like! Ooh, ooh, I have a photo booth too, ya see!? Get a photo with select backgrounds, same price!”

The photographer stepped back and tapped the black box, perched at a distance from the fountain for the perfect frame. The box machine camera came right out of the nineteenth century.

“How much is it?” David asked out of courtesy.

“A hundred points or one silver coin per photo! You won’t find a better deal!”

David made a face. “A hundred points for a photo?”

“Ay, ay, listen, pal! Cameras ain’t commonplace here. I know your generation loves tech. Don’t you miss it? Come on.”

“Okay… Sure.” Sun-young spoke up quietly but confidently, her nerves taking the backseat. Her instincts told her the photographer was not going to pass them up, not to mention she was intrigued by the suggestion of an amulet.

“Fine.” William frowned. “Just saying, I hate taking photos.”

William, David, and Marta. Taking a photo with the three of them was unexpectedly nice. The New Yorker prepared to snap a photo of them with the fountain in view, the tall ancient machine from a hundred years ago audibly loading and churning.

’An amulet, huh…’

“Say cheese!”

“Cheese.”

Only Marta and David said it. Still, even without it, Sun-young smiled.

The need to live up to expectations. The need to never give up and relentlessly pursue greater heights.

When she was with them, everything felt okay.

***

Her personal dimension, or her inner world she liked to call it, was plain. The bed she was in was identical to her college dorm bed. As terrible as her memories were, it was also the only place that she was able to call home. Before, she would have alarms set-up to help her through the day. Now it was the System.

Sigh.

It was like an ache that she could not ignore. Sun-young’s eyes fluttered open, immediately agitated by the blue box hovering in her vision. The System window was filled with text that she did not want to read. She didn’t know how much time had passed since Ari’s concert. A day, maybe? It wasn’t long enough. Sun-young’s muscles were drained, the tiniest movement requiring some straining.

[ > Kazi Hossain: Hey guys! You up?

> William Martin: ?

> William Martin: just woke up man ]

Sun-young yawned and draped an arm on her head. ’Me too,’ she said mentally, refraining from messaging to see what he wanted. If it was something tedious, then she would pretend she didn’t see it and go to sleep again.

On top of being a heavy eater, she was a heavy sleeper too. On weekends, anyway.

[ > Kazi Hossain: It’s about Jack.

> William Martin: who ???

> Kazi Hossain: And one other thing.

> Kazi Hossain: Sun-young, I know you’re in bed and too tired to lift a finger but I would really appreciate you coming. ]

Dammit, now she felt called out. Was he a mind reader or something? Her fingers were too valuable to type with. Still, she had to reply.

[ > Yoon Sun-young: k ]

She rolled over and went to her wardrobe. Technically, a wardrobe was a waste of space given that every player had access to their inventory. Sun-young liked having a wardrobe and closet, the normalcy she was able to introduce into her room pleasant. It felt so much lonelier and barren if she did nothing and there was solely a bed.

She changed from her pajamas to her battle outfit. Chainmail armour over a blue tunic with flaps, and generic black leather pants. Looking at herself in the mirror, she honestly felt like Link from Legend of Zelda; like an imposter.

“Wait…we’re not going to the Heavenly Tower. What am I doing,” Sun-young murmured. She changed again, this time into a preppy V-neck knit vest over a black top and dark blue jeans. She rushed to put on some moisturizer, sunscreen, and make-up. She hated not being punctual.

’Exit home.’

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