The gentle buzz of Zihad's alarm clock pulled him from a dreamless sleep. His eyes fluttered open, already met by the faint rays of morning light slipping through the curtains. It was 7:00 a.m., and unlike most mornings, he felt the weight of exhaustion more than usual. The long gaming session from the night before lingered in his bones, not physically, but mentally.
Still, he sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stretched. Another school day.
Downstairs, the familiar scent of paratha and eggs wafted through the air, drawing a small smile to his face. Zidan's voice could be heard echoing from the kitchen—he was already hyped about something. Probably more game news. The boy never stopped talking about Dream Land Fantasy lately, especially about the Phantom Reaper. Zihad had to force himself to pretend not to care.
After a quick shower and change into his school uniform, he headed downstairs with a yawn.
"Morning," he muttered as he entered the kitchen.
"Finally!" Zidan grinned with his mouth full. "You look like a zombie."
Zihad raised an eyebrow. "Better than being a loud-mouthed NPC."
Zidan laughed, unfazed. Their mom handed Zihad a plate, and he quietly sat to eat. The television was on in the background, playing a morning talk show. For once, they weren't discussing Dream Land Fantasy. Instead, it was about some political event and a weather update. The normalcy felt… refreshing.
"Do you think Phantom Reaper is a dev?" Zidan asked out of nowhere.
Zihad blinked, hiding the slight tension in his fingers as he sipped his tea. "Could be," he answered vaguely. "Hard to say."
"You think he's Bangladeshi?"
"Zidan," their mom interrupted, her tone soft but firm, "let your brother eat in peace. Not everything is about that game."
"But maa—!"
"Eat."
Zidan slouched but went quiet.
The bus ride to school was uneventful. Zihad leaned his head against the window, eyes closed, listening to the muffled conversations of classmates. Some were comparing game progress. Others were gossiping about teachers. One or two whispered about the Phantom Reaper again. Even now, just hearing that title gave him a strange feeling—a mix of amusement and tension.
At school, things were normal. Predictably so. Class began with a physics test, and Zihad finished it with time to spare. Full marks again, probably. He didn't even check his answers. It had become routine. His brain operated on logic, structure, precision—so unlike the chaos of Dream Land Fantasy.
During lunch break, Zihad sat under the old banyan tree near the back of the school. A few other students were nearby, chatting or playing on their phones. He opened his notebook, not to study, but to write down thoughts—ideas for updates to his game's dungeon AI and environment systems. Even while away from it, his mind never stopped developing.
It wasn't obsession. It was purpose.
As he scribbled lines of ideas, he heard footsteps approaching. He didn't look up.
"Hey Zihad."
It was Amina, the class rep. One of the few people who ever willingly talked to him.
"You're not eating?"
"Not hungry," he said, not stopping his pen.
"You're always scribbling. Do you write stories or something?"
He paused. Then shrugged. "Something like that."
Amina looked like she wanted to ask more but didn't. She stood there for a second, then smiled. "You know… you're kind of weird. But in a good way."
Zihad gave a small nod. "Thanks. I think."
She walked off, and he returned to his notes. The rest of the school day passed with little drama. By the time he returned home, the sun was already dipping behind the buildings.
In his room, Zihad locked the door behind him and finally sat in front of his setup. He didn't log into the game right away. Instead, he opened his developer suite. He checked feedback logs, bug reports, and a few community messages. Everything looked stable. And yet...
There was always a part of him looking for cracks—anything that might hint at imbalance, or worse, discovery.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Today was quiet. Peaceful.
Maybe that was a good thing.
Maybe… this was what normal felt like.
End of Chapter 23