Chapter 9 the Secret Mine of Sorrow

Lea had no idea what to say as she made up her bed with fresh linen—all under the quiet, watchful gaze of their guest. Those vibrant green eyes tracked her every move. Every time she peeked, the woman looked completely unbothered. Relaxed, even.

Jen had just ended a call, her voice warm as she wished an enthusiastic kid a good night and told him to enjoy Thirian. She’d sounded a little sad when she explained they couldn’t meet up tonight, but promised to send him a gift in-game when she had the chance.

Hearing them had made Lea smile. The kid sounded loved in a way she deeply envied. And she knew—from Scott, who had met the boy—that he used a wheelchair. That fact made her admiration twist with sympathy.

But she didn’t pry. Whatever Jen’s private life was, Lea didn’t have the right to ask. So she quietly focused on tucking the corners tight, fluffing the pillows, and adjusting the sheets.

The room didn’t offer much distraction. Clean—surprisingly so, especially for someone like Lea. It was neat, spare but intentional. A longboard and a surfboard leaned against the far wall, waxed and polished like prized possessions. On the adjacent wall hung framed jerseys from national soccer teams—colors from Brazil, Germany, Japan, and Spain hanging like worn flags of former glories. A simple desk stood under the window, supporting a sleek laptop, a pair of ambient string lights, and a small scented diffuser that filled the room with a calm, ocean-breeze aroma. Not much else—but every item spoke of care, hobbies, a person who cherished motion, freedom, and a little order in the chaos.

When she finally finished, she turned to face Jen—and was met with a mischievous pout.

“Ben really did sell me on a sleepover,” Jen said. “But I guess this’ll have to do.”

Lea swallowed hard, stepping forward. Her eyes flicked over Jen—first the soft curve of her lips, then the faint line of her collarbone, visible beneath the collar of her oversized T-shirt. The low light from the desk lamp caught in Jen’s hair, throwing shiny glints across her dark strands. Something in Lea's chest twisted.

Her pupils dilated. Her palms prickled.

“If you want me to sleep with you,” she said, voice gruff, “then all you have to do is ask.”

Her heart pounded in her throat. She held Jen’s gaze—challenging her this time, unwilling to lose an inch.

But Jen… didn’t react like Lea expected.

“I’m being serious, you know,” Jen said cheerfully, moving past her to the desk. “At my age, making girlfriends isn’t easy. I really did imagine how fun it’d be—talking boys, eating junk…” She giggled. “Oh! Pillow fights!”

Lea blinked, heart still in her mouth.

Jen turned with a grin and—without warning—smacked her across the face with a pillow.

“See? I’d totally win,” she laughed, twirling the pillow triumphantly. Seeing Lea’s slow reaction, she dropped the pillow and stepped closer, giggling. “Sorry,” she added, as her hands briefly touched Lea’s face, fixing her now-crooked glasses.

Lea let out a breathless laugh, even as her cheeks flushed hot. Her muscles tensed beneath the touch of that brief impact, her thoughts a whirlwind.

This woman hadn’t picked up on her meaning. Not even a flicker.

Lea took a cautious step back, trying to recompose herself.

“Do I look like the kind of girl that does sleepovers?” she asked dryly, her tone hiding how much her thoughts were still reeling.

Jen just nodded brightly. “You’re the kind who whines about it first… then loves every minute of it.”

Lea scoffed and turned away, muttering under her breath like it was a prayer.

“Dangerous, these straight women… I mean the innuendos—do I look like I’d whine? Christ…” She laughed to herself, already backing toward the door, gripping her headset with the clear intention of going to gear up in Ben’s room.

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At exactly 22:59, the world of Thirian shimmered into motion.

Players—now five times the number from launch day—blinked into consciousness inside their avatars, filling towns, squares, and taverns with motion and sound. The once-sparse starter areas now bustled like anthills. New guild banners unfurled above groups of players who moved with purpose, their steps heavier with gear and confidence. The awkward stumbling of day one was gone; in its place, focus had settled into the player base.

All across the globe, corporations and ambitious guilds had worked their connections tirelessly. Forums buzzed. Info brokers got rich overnight. And for those with the right tips, the effort had paid off. Independent players from every region submitted the hidden quests they’d discovered, flooding the game’s backend with activity. The result? Today felt different. More alive. More competitive.

Coin flowed slowly but steadily, hard-earned through monster hunts, clever trades, and successful missions. Players cashed in quest rewards and reinvested immediately—upgrading weapons, buying armor, and stacking consumables. Many turned their eyes toward their manor lords, the NPC gatekeepers of prestige and passage. The first steps toward leaving the starter towns had begun.

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Meanwhile, in the gleaming sprawl of Falkenhide, two players stepped out of a white-marble hall with freshly minted paperwork in hand.

Blue had just paid the $40,000 deposit and officially founded her guild: Secret Dawn.

Its member count?

One.

Blue – Level 5 Mage.

She couldn’t help but laugh as the system message blinked back at her. A lone dot of gold light over an empty roster.

“So dramatic,” she muttered, but her eyes gleamed.

Beside her, Fireblade—less amused—confirmed her own registration. Her adventurer team, Robin Arrow, had also gone official. At $5,000, it had cost less, but for them, it still stung. Her team members flanked her, muttering about the ridiculous pricing, but no one complained. Not really. They were in.

Once finished, the group climbed into a city carriage, winding through cobbled streets and into one of Falkenhide’s more upscale neighborhoods. Ornate lampposts glowed with soft magical light, casting golden halos over tidy storefronts and polished stone walkways.

Blue stepped out first, eyes locking on an NPC pacing anxiously outside an ivy-draped building—an elegant bar with carved glass windows. The man’s finely tailored vest was creased, his monocle swinging from one trembling hand.

Blue approached casually, stooping to retrieve the object from where it had just slipped.

“Sir,” she said, politely offering the monocle. “You dropped this.”

The NPC paused, blinking. His agitation faded slightly as he took the item with a nod. “Ah… young traveler. Forgive my unsightly manners. It’s just—well, I’m at my wit’s end. One of my mines has been overrun with cursed spirits. I’ve sent hired adventurers, but they never last. The undead keep returning. It’s draining my coffers and ruining my reputation.”

Blue hid her grin beneath a mask of concern.

“And your name?” she asked.

The man bowed slightly, recovering a bit of his noble bearing.

“Benjamin Fauler,” he said. “Entrepreneur, logistics trader, and proprietor of the Scarlet Hollow Crystal Mines.”

“I might have a solution, Mr. Fauler.”

Benjamin looked at her with the tired hope of a man drowning. “I’m listening.”

Blue reached into her bag and pulled out a glowing orb—an item she’d bought yesterday with every last coin she had. The Barrier of Binding. It shimmered faintly with runes and cold light.

“This will restrict the undead within the mine’s bounds. It won’t cleanse them, but it’ll stop them from spilling into the roads or the city perimeter.”

Benjamin’s eyes lit up with interest.

“Ingenious! That would eliminate liability for any undead reaching Falkenhide. And I could stop hiring those overly dramatic mercenaries… How much would you sell it for?”

Blue lifted a hand, halting him. “Better idea: a partnership. You let us—players—clear out the mine as a sanctioned quest. You keep your mine operating and collect your red crystals. We get paid by the kill.”

The man’s monocle twitched.

“A joint venture… with travelers?” He paced once, then laughed—a booming, rich sound. “You folk are strange. Gifted with eternal life and chaos in your blood. But… this could work.”

He turned, eyes gleaming now.

“Very well. If you can activate the orb at the mine’s depths and contain the spirits, I’ll consider us business partners. Do you accept?”

Before Blue could answer, a chime rang out across her interface:

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🔔 Special Event Triggered!

Congratulations, Secret Dawn!

You have initiated the first self-made questline.

🔥🔥 Rewards and EXP will be doubled upon completion.

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Behind her, the twenty-one players she'd commissioned as part of her unofficial raid team gawked.

None had ever seen a game where players could invent their own quest solutions—at least not like this. Where roleplay, logic, and initiative actually worked. Where the world didn’t just allow freedom, it rewarded it.

The message was clear: If you had the brains, the bravery, and the boldness—

You could reshape Thirian itself.

And for the first time, they all realized:

They were playing a very different kind of game.