The Realm Between: The Curse: A LitRPG Saga (Book 1)

by Phoenix Grey

  Will had been excited to move across the country at first. Above all else, his career took precedence. Shiela had known that. Though it broke his heart to do it, Will had given Shiela the opportunity to bail on the relationship before he left, but she had insisted that they could still make it work despite the distance. For about the first month after he left for California, they made sure to video chat every day. But as the weeks and months ticked on, their contact became less and less. Now he was lucky to get a text a day from her and video chat once a week. He could feel her boredom with the relationship when they spoke, and to be honest, he felt it from his end, too. That didn't make him want to let her go any more, though. They had had a good thing when he was in Ohio, so much in common that they never got sick of spending time together. Will had been certain that she was the girl he was going to marry up until he'd gotten the acceptance email from Radical Interactive. He had even bought an engagement ring with the plan to propose to her. But that had all fallen apart the second he found out that he was moving and she wasn't willing to move with him.

  She had switched her major shortly after they'd met to veterinary medicine, realizing that it was probably more lucrative than going into the already oversaturated video game industry. She had been working part-time as a kennel tech at one of the local veterinary hospitals when they had met, and it was obvious she had a great love for animals and their well-being. It only made sense that she would want to continue that line of work. Now a veterinary technician, she only had one more year of school left before she could start her internship, and she'd already been promised a position at the veterinary hospital she worked at, so it didn't make sense for her to follow Will to California when she had already begun building the foundation for her career long before he had.

  Worse was that they had no tentative plan in place for either of them to eventually relocate to be closer to the other. As much as it hurt him, Will was pretty sure that Shiela was relying on his career failing so that he'd move back to Ohio to be with her, though she always only voiced support for his decision behind a veil of pain. She was a good girlfriend. No man could ask for better, and that's why it hurt him so much to feel like he was losing her.

  When Will called to tell his boss that he was going to be late, he was met with irritation. That was to be expected. What hadn't been expected was the meeting that followed when he actually got to work, his superiors rounding him up into one of the empty office rooms typically reserved for small meetings. They scowled at him in disappointment as they informed him that if he was late or tardy one more time, he'd be out the door. He took the lecture like a beaten dog, his tail between his legs, muttering his apologies. They reminded him of what a great opportunity it was to be working for Radical Interactive, and he didn't dare to disagree.

  It was true, after all. This was his one chance in a lifetime, an opportunity that most aspiring game designers weren't afforded. He was almost as confused as they were as to why he was fucking up so much. But deep in his heart, he knew it was because his passion wasn't in the work. The first few weeks of seeing everything that Radical Interactive had to offer were exciting, getting to play with their tech in a limited fashion. But the shiny new car smell had worn off quickly with the repetition of his job. And there were days when he downright dreaded coming into work.

  "I won't be late again," he promised, trying to sound as earnest as possible.

  "You better not be," his supervisor warned in a strictly business voice. Usually, it was hard to take her seriously. At only 5'2 and with a youthful face littered with freckles, it felt like a child was lecturing him, not someone two years his senior. She was a tomboy through and through, and a damn good supervisor, if truth be told. Had they not worked together, Will liked to have thought they could have been friends. He knew she hated lecturing him just as much as he hated receiving the lecture.

  As he left the meeting room and returned to his cubical, all he could think was that Sheila might finally get her wish. If Will lost his job, he would hang around California for a month or two to try to land another job with one of the other various video game companies in the state, but the truth of the matter was that the urge to go home was great. He hadn't really made any friends since moving here. His only reprieve from loneliness aside from talking to people back home was to plug himself into a game at night and get lost in the fantasy world, hooking up with the friends he'd made around the globe. They were beginning to seem like truer friends than anyone he'd met in real life. Sometimes, Will liked to pretend that the games were real and what he woke up in every morning was some make-believe nightmare.

  Will put in his time slicing open chests, cutting through sternums and rerouting arteries and veins. The software was almost ready for release, so there were few glitches to report. He'd done this so many times that he was pretty sure he could perform open-heart surgery in his sleep. The day was long and boring and filled with the anxiety of worrying about screwing up again. He definitely had to get to bed on time tonight. Masterwind could wait. It wasn't like it was going anywhere, and neither was he.

  Will watched the clock display in the top right hand corner of his field of vision almost as intently as he watched what he was doing. It was okay if he botched a scenario, if he dropped a scalpel in the patient's chest or cut the wrong artery. Some of the testing even called for him to make mistakes. All that mattered was that the software didn't lose its realism. That everything was in the correct place. That the patient's reaction was as it should be in the scenario, the machines beeping with the uptick of the patient's blood pressure or flatlining when he cut something vital.

  Will let out a sigh as his shift ended and he was finally free from the tedious repetition. Relief flooded him as he walked through the glass double doors of the building. It was crazy to think that just six months ago, the thought of having access to this building thrilled him. Now, it had become his ball and chain.

  He shook the thought away with a soft huff before tapping his wrist comp to power it on. While inside the building, all phones and cameras were prohibited. It was understandable. Radical Interactive's technology was cutting edge, and they didn't want what they were working on to leak out. Past employees had been sued for posting pictures online. Idiots, Will thought. Who would be willing to lose their job just for the sake of bragging about what they were working on? Maybe they had been stuck in a redundant position too and were just sick of it. Who knew?

  Will brought up his text notifications, and his heart grew lighter as he saw one from Sheila. Damn, did he ever miss her. The tinkling sound of her laughter and the comfort of holding her in his arms. Maybe it was because his day had sucked so much that he was feeling starved for affection. Or perhaps he just wanted to be comforted after getting yelled at by his superiors.

  But as soon as he read the message from her, all of the happy feelings inside of him faded away.

  "We need to talk."

  Historically speaking, nothing a woman has ever said after those words has been a good thing.

  Dread gathered in Will's gut, bubbling and leaving a vile taste in his mouth. Something told him that he'd need to be sitting down for whatever she had to say. Something also told him that he was about to get dumped.

  "Better get this over with," Will muttered as he headed out into the parking lot. He usually tried to sneak out a few minutes early to avoid the traffic that accumulated from everyone getting off from work at the same time, but his impatience to hear what Sheila had to say would most likely get him stuck behind a line of cars.

  He opened the door of his light blue beater and slid inside, looking back at the Radical Interactive building that no longer impressed him. It was red brick on the outside with windows lining all three stories. Branching out in four directions, the building was shaped like a cross. Just like the company it belonged to, it was unique in terms of architecture. The first floor was partially underground. White steps led up to the second floor where Will worked. He sighed, thinking about clim
bing those steps again in the morning and cutting open more chests. Thankfully, his supervisor had told him that the project should be wrapped up by the end of the week. At least that was something he had to look forward to.

  Will tapped on Shiela's face to dial her number. A few rings later, she answered like she wasn't happy to hear from him.

  "You wanted to talk?" he said, just wanting to get to the meat of the conversation.

  "Yeah," she hesitated.

  "What's up?" he spurred her on.

  "How was your day?"

  Really? Do we need to have this meaningless bit of chatter when you're about to drop a bomb on me?

  "It was shitty."

  "Oh. I'm sorry," Shiela's voice trailed off solemnly. Will could detect traces of guilt, and he half expected her to..."We can talk about this later if you'd like."

  There is was. Even at her worst, there was usually a sweetness to Shiela. At least he knew she still cared about him to some extent.

  "No. It's fine. Same as all the other days really," he lied, trying to alleviate some of her stress and get her to say whatever it was she needed to say to him.

  "Are you sure it's all right?" Now she was just stalling.

  "It's fine. Just say what you need to say." He gestured in a circular motion.

  "I... We can't be together anymore."

  There it was. The icing on his shit cake. The brown swirly, smelly icing.

  "I might lose my job," he blurted out, hoping it would turn things around.

  Sheila was silent for a moment, digesting what he had just said.

  "I'm sorry." She didn't sound happy about the implication that he might be coming back. Will wasn't sure if it was because she was feeling sorry for him, but that's what he chose to believe.

  "It's fine. So I may be coming home soon." He took a deep breath, resting his elbow on the windowsill and staring at Radical Interactive. It felt like everything was falling apart around him. Maybe if he gave up his job, he could save this one good thing in his life.

  "I'm sure your parents will be happy if you do."

  That was not the reaction he had expected at all. His parents? What about her? It was a question that begged asking.

  "And what about you?" he put his thoughts into words.

  "Will, I..." The pit in his stomach deepened as he began to realize that there was more to this than meets the eye. "I met someone else."

  "What?" His mouth dropped open, all the moisture leaving it. He imagined he looked like a fish.

  "I met someone else," she repeated more solidly.

  The pit filled with angry vipers wanting to strike with their poisonous venom. It was like someone kept tossing snakes into his stomach, filling it by the second until he would have no choice but to let some loose. Sheila had always been good to him, and she didn't deserve that. So he did the one thing he knew to do to keep from yelling at her in frustration. He hung up on her.

  Will's world spun on its axis. He felt dizzy from fatigue and stress. Thank God he had a self-driving car or he probably would have just slept off his depression in the parking lot.

  He stared at his wrist comp, waiting for Sheila to call him back, to tell him that she had made a mistake and that she wanted to try to work things out with him. They'd been together for six years already. How could she just move on like that? She knew he'd come back for her eventually. Didn't she? He had half-expected her to try to dump him, but not like this. Not to be completely replaced.

  After five minutes passed and there was no sign that she was going to try to call back, Will slammed both fists against the steering wheel. "Fuck."

  The pressure had been building up inside of him. He had wanted to be patient, but he just couldn't take it anymore.

  "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He beat into the steering wheel again and again, not caring if he broke it. This was just too much.

  Will blew out an exasperated breath and rested his head on his balled fists for few minutes before pushing the button in the steering column to power on his car and then tapping the home button on the console. Thankfully, the car would take care of the rest. All he wanted was to get home and immerse himself in Masterwind—to pretend this shitty day never happened and that his life didn't actually exist. But first, he had to contend with the stupidly long line of cars filtering out of the parking lot.

  The drive home was riddled with thoughts and regrets and what ifs. Will knew deep down in his heart that staying in California and trying to turn his lame-ass job at Radical Interactive into a career was the right thing to do. But damn, did he ever want to fly home to Ohio and try to talk some sense into Sheila. For as bored as he'd gotten with the relationship, he still wanted to be in it. Knowing he had someone there for him through thick and thin had meant more to him than he had realized. Sure, he still had his parents and his friends back home and his online friends, but it just wasn't the same. Sheila was special. She had always been special. But the realist in him knew that it was better to just let her go. Their lives were headed in different directions. They'd been heading that way from the start. She had known from the beginning that he'd have to move out of state to get a decent job once he got his degree. The relationship had always been doomed. By the time Will pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he knew he just had to accept it. That didn't make it hurt any less, though.

  Will dragged himself out of his car and took long slow steps towards the elevator. It felt like his pockets were filled with rocks. That his heart was a boulder. That every part of him just wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and not get up again. Would playing Masterwind even make him feel better after having such a shitty day? It wasn't just one thing eating at him. His concentration was piss poor, he desperately needed sleep, and all he could think about was the good times he'd had with Sheila and that there'd never be any more.

  He braced himself against the wall of the elevator as it ascended, chiming at every floor it passed. There was no elevator music, and the elevator itself smelled like watermelon, though Will wasn't sure why. Usually, it smelled old and musty, or occasionally like dog piss when an unresponsible pet owner would allow their dog to urinate wherever it pleased. Will always checked the floor before stepping into the elevator. It had been clear shortly after moving into the complex that one of his neighbors had a dog with a weak bladder.

  It's kind of sad when the only good thing that happened to me today was that the elevator doesn't smell like piss, Will thought disparagingly.

  The elevator shook slightly as it came to a stop on the fourth floor and the bell chimed one last time as the doors slid open. He walked out into the hallway, keys in hand, ready to hole himself in for a long night of gaming. As he slid his key into the lock, the door of the apartment next to his clicked open, and Will cringed from the sound.

  For the briefest of moments, he regretted his reaction. Moira Fields, the widow next door, was a kindly old lady, but she wouldn't hesitate to ask him for a favor. It was a 50/50 chance that she had food for him or wanted something. Will desperately hoped it was the first of the two. He had little interest in performing menial tasks with the mood he was in.

  "Oh good, you're home." Mrs. Fields poked her head out her door to make sure it was him before her body followed. She was wearing an oversized floral nightgown that buttoned all the way up to her neck. Her short gray hair was up in pink curlers, and she had blue slippers on her feet. Will immediately noticed that there was no tray of cookies or a casserole dish in her hand, which could only mean one thing.

  Shit.

  "How are you today, Mrs. Fields?" Will scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his voice strained. He didn't bother hiding his discomfort. Maybe if he made it obvious that he wasn't in the mood to help her, she'd let him go.

  No such luck.

  "One of the lights went out in my kitchen." She pointed back inside her appointment. "I have a bulb already. Could you come screw it in for me?"

  How many old ladies does it take to screw in a ligh
tbulb?Will thought bitterly, then immediately regretted it. Mrs. Fields had always been kind to him. When he had first moved into the complex, she had taken him under her wing, bringing him food every now and then. She was like a mother away from home. He just didn't feel like dealing with her right now.

  "You know the maintenance guys are supposed to supply you with those. There's no need for you to spend your money on them." He knew she was on disability and probably didn't have the money to spare. Most people in the complex were living from paycheck to paycheck. It wasn't in the ghetto, but it wasn't one of the nicer apartment complexes either.

  "You know how long they take to do anything around here." Mrs. Fields screwed her face in displeasure.

  She wasn't wrong. After placing a service call to maintenance, it typically took a few days for them to show up. Still, if her apartment was anything like his(which it was), there were multiple lights in the kitchen. Replacing the lightbulb wasn't exactly urgent business.

  The compulsion to tell her he was busy was great, but he knew he'd hurt her feelings if he said no, so he acquiesced with an inward sigh, following her into her unit to find the offending outage. The scent of baby powder, cat piss, and some kind of food filled his nostrils to create a putrid bouquet of fragrances that should never mix. With his back to Mrs. Fields, he wrinkled his nose, taking in her hodgepodge decorating job. The walls of her apartment were adorned with a mix of completed cross stitching projects, photos of her family, and various paintings of children, cats, and landscapes. She had a lot of knick-knacks lying about but wasn't quite a hoarder.