"Heh…" A young man with curly black hair lounged on a plush three-seater, comfortably positioned across from a massive 40-inch flat screen. In his hands, a sleek, wireless controller rested, its top glowing faintly blue—a sign that it was seamlessly paired with the latest piece of tech indulgence he had just splurged on: the Absolute Game Station – Custom Series X. This wasn't a console you'd find on any regular shelf. No, this one had cost him a clean five grand, and for good reason.
It boasted native 32K resolution, 1440 frames per second, and a quantum-grade neural engine that made load times a thing of the past. Unlike standard consoles, this beast was capable of handling FullDive-compatible games, offering near-total immersion with advanced haptics and sensory feedback. It didn't just run games—it recreated reality.
Of course, that wasn't all. The NEO's latest screen only enhanced the experience. It wasn't just big—it was stunning. Colors so rich, blacks so deep, it made every gaming session feel like stepping into a whole new world. Every movement on screen was buttery smooth, no blur, no lag—just pure, high-octane clarity. The matte finish of the display killed glare, and the barely-there bezels made the visuals feel limitless. Explosions were brighter, skies bluer, and even idle game menus looked cinematic.
A few feet away, his ever-loyal Vibrator game chair sat out of his direct line of sight. On a normal day, he'd have been perched there with a grin, immersed in action. But today? Today was different. He wasn't in the mood for the chair; after all, this wasn't a combat game. It wasn't a racing game, a first-person shooter, or any of the other action-packed genres he typically indulged in.
Today, it was an Erogy game.
One of those titles he only played when he needed to escape into a world of fictional love—a world far from the bitter truths he carried with him. Yeah, delusion. He was aware of it. The game's overly simplistic portrayal of love, the kind that was just too clean, too beautiful… it always made him cringe. He'd laugh at the absurdity of it, knowing full well that life didn't work that way.
He knew the truth—the cold, bitter truth. True love didn't exist in this world. Not in his reality, anyway. Or at least, that's what he'd convinced himself.
But even in his jaded heart, he knew that wasn't entirely true. There had once been someone who truly loved him. Someone he'd lost to his own foolishness.
A past mistake so far behind him now that even her face had become a blur in his memory.
So, despite knowing that these games were nothing more than lies, he still played them. Why? He couldn't say for sure. Maybe a part of him—one he hadn't even acknowledged—still yearned for romance. That crazy, impossible emotion called love.
And so, he played. Not every day, but occasionally. On those days when he'd scroll through the action-packed arcade games, the combat shooters, and the sprawling adventure titles, and with a dismissive sigh, think, "Yeah, no." Then, he'd find an Erogy game and dive in.
He might never admit it out loud, but deep down, he enjoyed them. There was always this satisfied grin on his face as he pushed his gaming chair aside, cracked open a soft drink—or, on some days, a beer—reached for a snack, and snuggled into his expensive sofa. He'd lost himself in the beautiful lies, and it felt good.
Today was no different. However...
"This game… Why is it even an eroge?" he muttered, staring at the flickering [Failed] message blurring across the screen as the protagonist died—again. He sighed, watching the virtual blood fade into static, a familiar sight at this point. Yet again, he'd stumbled into a mission that felt straight out of hell.
Sure, the game had its typical eroge elements—plenty of female characters with exaggerated proportions, conveniently steamy encounters, and dialogue that teetered between cringy and comedic. But there was something different here. Something that didn't belong in a genre known for shallow plots and softcore escapism.
The world-building was insane. It felt… alive. Real. He had total freedom—actual freedom—to shape his path, explore vast maps that sprawled endlessly in all directions, each one bursting with detail, personality, and lore. It wasn't just about seducing NPCs or picking the right dialogue option to get a scene—it was about the world itself.
The mechanics? Revolutionary.
A physics-based combat system with real-time dodging, combos, and reactive status effects.
A morality engine that went beyond the binary good-or-evil routes—every choice he made rippled through the story and relationships.
Fully voice-acted cutscenes, cinematic CGI smoother than most AAA games on the market.
Enemies that adapted to his strategy, thanks to some terrifyingly clever AI.
And an emotionally-driven narrative, constantly shifting based on how he played—not just what he picked, but why and when.
This wasn't just a trashy romance visual novel. It was a masterpiece wearing the skin of mediocrity.
"Okay…" he whispered, eyes focused on the glowing options menu:
[Continue from Last Checkpoint]
[Load Checkpoint]
[Settings]
[Moves List]
[Exit to Lobby]
He glanced at his wrist.
[2:15 PM]
There was still time.
By now, he should've grown tired. Should've dropped the controller, stretched his legs, maybe gone for a walk like he usually did. But…
Tap.
His finger pressed the button.
No hesitation.
No pause.
He continued.
He wanted to see this game through to the end.
"Haah… he'll probably be here in an hour or so. Just hope I can finish before then," he mumbled, just as a loud chime rang out from the kitchen.
Pim!
"FUCK! My noodles!" he shouted, suddenly bolting up as realization struck. He'd completely forgotten about the pot he'd left on the stove. Good thing he'd actually set a timer this time—unlike the usual laziness where he just turned the heat on and hoped for the best.
A few minutes later, he returned, carrying the bowl of slightly overcooked noodles, placing it on the armrest beside him with a sigh. Then, without ceremony, he picked up the controller again.
On-screen, the conversation continued:
["How about it… Just the two of us."]
["I… I don't—"]
["Come on, Aria. I know you want to."]
His eyes widened. "What… did that bitch just blush?" he muttered in disbelief.
Aria—one of the coldest characters in the game. A woman who had never smiled, never laughed, never even softened her gaze. She always looked like she'd gut someone without hesitation. And now? With just a few different choices?
"Hm…" he hummed, more intrigued than ever.
[Ding!]
His phone buzzed with a familiar notification chime. Reaching lazily for it, he tapped the screen.
[Elvis: YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!]
He read the message, blinked slowly, and then grinned.
Casually, he scrolled upward to glance at his security logs.
[System Security: Blocked Calls: 42 | Blocked Messages: 0]
"Heh…" he chuckled under his breath. Honestly, he expected this. It was inevitable, really. After all, he'd just fucked a girl he wasn't supposed to. Or rather… one he wasn't meant to.
"Looks like my time's almost up," he said, laughing softly to himself. "Let's make the most of it."
He typed back a simple reply:
[You: >.<]
Then dropped the phone beside him and leaned back. He could already imagine the steam blowing out of Elvis's ears.
Did he care?
No.
Not in the slightest.
In fact, he wanted that bastard to come. Let him. His work here was already done.
"Now… where was I?" he whispered, eyes returning to the screen, fingers wrapping once more around the controller.
....
Drop powerstones and reviews, people. Your support matters.I'm someone who needs to see progress—and when I don't…
Let's just say, it gets hard to keep pretending I don't care.Thanks for reading.