Chapter 63: Ghosts of the Past
Inside a private booth at Twilight Heart, the air had turned thick and unruly, filled with bursts of laughter, the occasional soft giggle, and every so often the sharp crash of a table being struck or a chair kicked aside, followed by an abrupt and almost unnatural silence.
Even though Flynn was across the street at The Headless Tavern, he had effectively dragged Chad and Amy into the chaos with him. Every exchange, every shift in tone, every jab and counter was being relayed in real time through messages, written with exaggerated flair that made the entire situation feel even more dramatic than it already was. Barely five minutes into the meeting, his erratic swings between playful and cutting had already thrown Misty Rain completely off balance. She could not get a read on him, and the initiative had slipped firmly into his hands.
Chad, thoroughly entertained, read the updates aloud between fits of laughter, occasionally adding his own commentary as he relayed everything to Amy and Let-There-Be-Light. When he reached the part where Flynn’s relentless needling pushed the two women to the brink, and Jingle actually drew her daggers, he broke down completely, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.
Amy smiled along, amused but far more restrained. She found the situation entertaining, but not nearly to the same extent.
Let-There-Be-Light, however, said nothing.
A long, quiet sigh escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, his expression weighed down by something heavier than simple concern. He remembered Misty Rain all too well. More specifically, he remembered the storm she had unleashed years ago during the era of Dragon’s Age. The thought of her being sent here, of all people, made his chest tighten.
Was Aether-Reach planning to repeat history?
---
Back at The Headless Tavern, Jingle looked ready to tear someone apart, her entire body coiled with tension, but Misty Rain caught her arm just in time and pulled her back with a sharp, warning look.
"Jingle. That’s enough. Stand down."
The command landed immediately. Jingle froze where she stood, her breathing still uneven, her eyes locked onto Flynn with pure hostility. After a moment, she forced herself to sheath her daggers, though the anger did not leave her face.
Flynn raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing grin. "What’s wrong? Still upset, little flat-chest?"
For a split second, everything seemed to stop.
Jingle’s eyes widened so suddenly it was almost unsettling, her pupils trembling as if the words had physically struck her. Even Misty Rain stiffened, caught completely off guard. Up until now, she had believed she still had some control over the situation. Jingle was hot-tempered, yes, but she was not easily shaken. Being called a brat would barely register to her.
But this? This was something else entirely.
It was obvious the moment Jingle’s expression twisted, her entire face flushing red as if a switch had been flipped deep inside her.
She looked ready to flip the table.
Flynn, already anticipating the reaction, grabbed two glasses of wine and stepped back just out of reach. "Easy," he said lightly. "Being flat isn’t a crime. That’s just how you were born. Acting so savage, though? That’s all you."
Jingle’s voice came out like a snarl. "Savage? You call me savage after that? You’ve got a death wish, Night-Stalker. I mean it. You’re dead."
Any remaining restraint snapped. In the blink of an eye, she vanished into Stealth.
The tavern, already lively, erupted into full-blown excitement. The NPCs here were not the type to avoid trouble, and the promise of a fight was more than enough to draw every eye in the room. Even the few players present leaned in, watching closely. Misty Rain and Jingle had already attracted attention the moment they walked in, and now the spectacle had escalated into something no one wanted to miss.
Then, as if the situation needed any further fuel, a dwarf NPC waddled forward, squinting openly at Jingle’s chest before shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment.
"What a shame," he muttered loudly. "Flat as an open prairie. I’ve always preferred a bit of shape myself. Rolling hills, you know? Much more character."
A few nearby elven maids exchanged glances and smirked, subtly gesturing to their own figures as they watched.
That was the breaking point. Jingle’s vision went red.
Her original target was forgotten instantly as she spun toward the dwarf, rage boiling over into something completely uncontrollable. With a sharp movement, she lunged.
Unfortunately for her, the dwarf was no ordinary drunk.
He sidestepped her first strike with ease, then the next, moving with surprising agility as he danced just out of reach. Each failed attempt only made Jingle more frantic, more reckless, while the dwarf laughed and tossed out insults that only pushed her further over the edge.
It quickly devolved into a ridiculous chase across the tavern floor.
Meanwhile, Flynn calmly drained the two glasses of wine in his hands and set them aside with a satisfied breath, patting his chest as if he had just avoided a genuine disaster.
"That was close," he muttered. "Tables can be replaced, but this stuff costs five gold a glass. Would’ve been a waste."
"Five gold?" Misty Rain’s composure cracked for the first time, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Before she could fully process that, Flynn turned to her with an easy smile. "Take a look around. Not exactly the ideal place for a negotiation, is it? Why don’t we call it here and pick this up another time?"
Misty Rain followed his gaze, taking in the chaos, the shouting, and the ongoing spectacle of Jingle chasing a laughing dwarf through the crowd. She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way.
"Tomorrow," she said. "I’ll contact you in the morning."
The True-Sight Crystal was not going anywhere, and her orders were clear. If anything, meeting him again under calmer circumstances might improve her chances.
Flynn nodded, then added casually, "Oh, before I go. I ordered a few drinks and some food. I’m sure Aether-Reach won’t mind covering it."
Misty Rain forced a polite smile, though it came with visible effort. "Of course. Consider it our treat."
Flynn blinked, a faint, unreadable smile passing across his face, then slipped into Stealth and disappeared from sight.
As he made his way toward the exit, the noise behind him swelled. He caught a brief shout from Misty Rain, sharp with frustration, followed by a long, tired sigh that was quickly swallowed by the roar of the tavern. Somewhere in the background, Jingle was still locked in her hopeless pursuit.
---
Flynn remained in Stealth all the way back to Twilight Heart.
The moment he stepped into the private booth, however, the effect broke instantly. The door had barely opened before a heavy wave of alcohol hit him, thick enough to make him pause.
Inside, Chad was leaning heavily against Let-There-Be-Light, one arm slung around his shoulders as he enthusiastically tried to force another drink into his hand. Let-There-Be-Light looked utterly miserable, his expression strained as he struggled to endure it.
The second he saw Flynn, relief flooded his face.
"Flynn! Thank God. Get him off me. I’m done. I can’t take another drop."
Flynn stared, completely caught off guard. "What happened to him?"
Chad, clearly far gone, barely reacted. He lifted a hand weakly, gave a sloppy grin, and let it fall again.
Amy rubbed her temples. "You need to take him out. Even if it’s not real alcohol, the system simulates the effects. If he keeps going, he’ll be forcibly logged out."
Flynn blinked. "That’s actually a thing?"
He stepped forward and pried Chad away, helping Let-There-Be-Light free himself. "He was fine earlier. How did this even happen?"
Amy hesitated. "It’s because of Misty Rain..."
She stopped mid-sentence as Let-There-Be-Light coughed sharply, cutting her off.
"It’s related," he said quickly. "But you should ask Chad yourself."
There was something off about his tone, something reluctant. Flynn caught it immediately.
"Misty Rain?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes slightly. The pieces did not quite fit, but the tension in the room made it clear there was more to the story than anyone was willing to say.
Let-There-Be-Light let out a tired sigh. "I don’t understand how you can be so close to him and still not know. That whole incident was huge."
"I’ve been overseas for years," Flynn replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "I’ve barely kept in touch. I’m missing half the story here."
It was obvious he was not going to get answers tonight.
After a brief exchange, he logged out of the game and hurried to Chad’s room. Without hesitation, he hit the emergency release on the helmet, forcing a disconnect, then pulled the device free.
In the real world, Chad was sprawled out, his face flushed red, fast asleep.
There was no smell of alcohol, no real danger, just the steady rhythm of breathing and the faint sound of snoring. It was a strange reminder of how convincing the simulation could be, and how little of it actually carried over.
Once he made sure Chad was stable, Flynn returned to the game.
By the time he logged back in, the others were gone.
Still restless, still curious, he chose not to jump back into anything immediately. Instead, he opened the official forums.
The helmet allowed for a standby state within safe zones, letting players browse without fully disconnecting. The Age of Conquest forum was vast, its search function powerful enough to pull records stretching back years.
Flynn typed in two names. Blood-Stained Boxers. Misty Rain.
The results flooded in almost instantly.
He filtered through them, ignoring the noise until he found threads that connected the two. When he opened the first one, he froze.
"The Legend Lives On: Blood-Stained Boxers of Red Mount and Misty Rain of Aether-Reach Finally Tie the Knot!"
Below the title was a beautifully captured in-game scene. Fireworks lit up the sky as a Blademaster stood beside a bride in a flowing gown. Players surrounded them in droves, their messages filling the air with congratulations. It looked perfect.
He scrolled.
More images followed, each one capturing moments from the same celebration, accompanied by nostalgic commentary from the original poster. But when he reached the second page, a new heading appeared.
The Real World.
Flynn’s hand stilled. The image beneath it was not from the game, It was a real wedding photograph.
The woman was unmistakable. Misty Rain, exactly as he had seen her, only more radiant, dressed in white, her features softened by careful makeup and genuine happiness.
And the man standing beside her... Flynn’s breath caught.
It was Chad.
Younger, leaner, and dressed in a tailored suit, smiling in a way Flynn had never seen before, open and unguarded, filled with a kind of happiness that felt almost foreign now.