Game of Reflections

"How long has it been since I left here?" The thought hit him like a bolt from the blue. He stopped, leaning against the table and trying to calculate how many days it had been since he had last set foot outside the door. Rick suddenly realized how much he was used to her caring, to the fact that she always provided for their home. And now he felt like he was in a cage. In recent days, apart from the raids, he had not done anything that could be called a normal life. Rick closed the refrigerator, took out his phone, and quickly checked his messages. There's no news. An old message from Mika flashed on the screen: "Don't worry, brother, I'll be back tomorrow." — simple and short. He read it twice, feeling a strange unease growing inside him. But despite his strangeness, this worry somehow dissolved as soon as he remembered that everything would return to normal, as always. 

Without wasting any more time thinking, Rick threw on his jacket and, passing by the empty rooms, stepped into the darkness. The cold night air greeted him outside. Rick looked around the street — empty, swallowed by silence, only occasionally broken by the occasional passing car. 

It was so unusual to be standing outside at that moment. Rick couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside his apartment. Everything seemed somehow... alien. He was so engrossed in the game that he hardly remembered that there was a world outside the screen. It was uncomfortable to realize how he had locked himself in four walls, as if his reality now consisted only of virtual characters and night raids. 

"God, Rick, you're a human being, not a piece of scrap metal, after all," he said to himself aloud, and he was surprised at how cringe—worthy it sounded. Feeling the cold seep under his fingernails, he quickened his pace, trying to refresh himself a little. I didn't have to go far—the convenience store was only two blocks from the house. 

Crossing the threshold of the store, Rick felt a sharp contrast with the street — warmth, the smell of fresh food and soft lighting. It was like home here, but with a strange distance. He gathered everything he needed, but he didn't even notice how slowly time was passing. In this place, the air seemed to pull him back to the apartment, to the familiar closed reality. 

After paying for his purchases, Rick took another look at the street. The whole world seemed to freeze — the night, silence, snow and empty streets. Once again, that familiar chill of fear squeezed his chest, as a reminder that his usual life had gone somewhere far away. He was trapped, trapped in his own cocoon. And his sister is probably worried about him, even though she left. 

Yes, we need to do something about it," Rick muttered, already crossing the threshold of the apartment with a package in his hands. The frosty air was instantly replaced by a soft warmth that enveloped the body and slightly calmed the nerves. Putting the bag on the kitchen table, he began to sort through the purchases, pulling out groceries and putting them in their places. 

Everything happened almost automatically, but somewhere in the back of my mind, an elusive feeling crept in. His thoughts, like shadows, whispered about how shaky the line was between this familiar world and what he already thought was real. 

Sitting down at the table, Rick took out a banana and, as if it were the last piece of food in the world, began to chew it slowly. My thoughts gradually calmed down, and the night silence around me became less and less disturbing. He no longer felt the cold tension that had held him down a few hours ago. 

Rick tossed the banana aside and looked wearily at the ceiling. Thoughts of nightmares, strange notifications, and a feeling of emptiness haunted him. He wanted to distract himself, and the decision came unexpectedly simply: why not spend the night watching anime? Sleep still seemed like something unattainable. 

Settling on the couch, Rick turned on his laptop and opened the platform with the long-awaited titles. His fingers slowly flipped through the list until his gaze caught on a bright poster. The mysterious title attracted attention, and a minute later the first episode was already loading. 

The plot caught on immediately: the characters seemed alive, the battles intense, and the dialogues accurate. Time flew by unnoticed, and the indicator on the screen showed that he was already on the third episode. The banana left on the edge of the table was soon replaced by sandwiches, and then the last remnants of Cola. The atmosphere of what was happening on the screen helped to get rid of disturbing thoughts. 

The laughter and dynamics in the anime evoked long-standing memories of friends who had once been around. Those with whom they shared plans, built strategies and laughed at mistakes. The shadows of the past flashed through my mind, but the plot carried me away again. 

The clock on the screen showed the dead of night. Empty wrappers and packages began to surround the sofa, but the next series was already starting. My eyes were starting to water from fatigue, and my body needed rest. "One more, and that's it," Rick whispered to himself.

However, he never made it to the finale of the episode. The soft light of the screen illuminated the room, where a tired player was already sleeping quietly on the couch, surrounded by the remnants of a night snack. A half-empty bottle of juice remained on the table next to the pie box. 

Outside, dawn was barely beginning to break through the thick curtains, and the muffled voices of the heroes who were still fighting continued to sound from the speakers. 

 It had been a long night, and Rick had slept like a log, feeling neither the anxiety nor the fear that had been bothering him for the past few days. From the moment he reduced the amount of time he spent in the game, his mode started to recover. The fatigue accumulated over endless raids and farming finally receded, and sleep, although short, became sound. Previously, when he spent 16 hours a day online, his nights were full of nightmares and restless awakenings. Now, thanks to his decision to reduce playing time to 10 hours, his body has begun to restore balance. 

When Rick woke up, he felt a little better. Of course, it wasn't perfect yet, but at least there wasn't that constant feeling of overload and fatigue that had plagued him before. He rubbed his eyes in confusion and got out of bed, trying to figure out how long he had been asleep. The clock on the bedside table read 11:42 a.m. Strangely, he hadn't expected to sleep for so long, but it was probably exactly what he needed. 

He stretched, feeling his body respond gratefully to the simple movement. I still had the shadows of my nightmares in my head, but they weren't as clear as they used to be. In the middle of lunch, when Rick was already half-heartedly picking at French fries and opened another video on his phone, the screen flashed. New notification. A slight vibration sound caught his attention, and Rick, frowning slightly, picked up the phone. It was just a notification from an Internet company, but Rick's attention was caught by another message sent about ten hours ago, it was from Sato. 

The text, concise and direct, made Rick stop. 

"Scarlet, why did you fall asleep so late? It's not good for your health. Don't ask, but I noticed that you logged into the messenger at 2:34 a.m. I don't think you've been playing at a time like this. What have you been doing? I'm interested." 

Rick stared at the message, feeling the tension starting to flare up in his chest. The message was sent at 2.36 a.m., Sato was accurate, too precise, and such detailed awareness of his actions made it feel like someone was watching his every move. 

"Kapets, is he even sleeping?" Rick muttered to himself as he internally tried to figure out how to react. 

"But why did he notice the time at all?" Rick's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to respond. Sato was clearly used to keeping everything under control, and his caring tone, even if it seemed sincere at first glance, had deep implications. 

Rick put down his fork and, running his finger across the screen, opened the messenger. The answer must be precise, subtle, and perfect. Using a voice synthesizer, he spoke to hear the sound: 

"Oh, my Satou, I didn't think you'd notice. I just couldn't sleep... Too many thoughts." 

His voice was soft, with a slight hint of weariness. Exactly the way a sophisticated and mysterious girl, behind whose mask Rick is hiding, should speak. 

The voice message was sent, and Rick leaned back in his chair, waiting for a response. However, the phone vibrated almost instantly. 

"Thoughts? You're thinking too much, Princess. You deserve rest, not sleepless nights. Do you want me to tell you a story every night to help you sleep? Or maybe you'll admit what's bothering your heart?" 

Rick froze for a moment, feeling the game getting harder. Sato was starting to move from general concerns to more personal matters, and it was both exciting and dangerous. 

Scarlet's answer was supposed to be tricky, avoiding specifics. But at the same time, he had to leave Sato with the feeling that he had almost touched her secrets so as not to create the impression of avoiding him, especially after all his gifts. 

"You care so much that it warms my soul. But my thoughts are too messy to sort them out right now. Maybe next time I'll tell you... if you're as persistent." 

Rick sent the message and immediately closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the synthesizer voice. At this point, his plan seemed to be taking shape. Sato is a cunning and attentive opponent, but even his curiosity can be turned into a weapon. 

The phone vibrated again. Sato answered faster than Rick expected, as if he had been sitting with his phone in his hands all this time, waiting for an answer. 

"Persistent? Hmm, do I look like someone who gives up? Scarlet, I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me. Maybe I already know what's bothering you, but I'd rather hear it from you personally." 

Rick took a deep breath, feeling the tension from the wordplay tighten his chest more and more. Sato was clearly not someone who could be easily confused or left unsatisfied by vague answers. Each of his phrases, like a blade, pierced through the defense, forcing Rick to look for more sophisticated ways to win this verbal duel. 

"Oh, do you really think you understand me, Satou?" Rick chuckled to himself as he started the synthesizer. 

"You know, sometimes you're too perceptive, it's scary. But I'm not as simple as you might think. Sometimes my thoughts are too chaotic to be read. But I appreciate your attention, this... more than I can put into words." 

The voice that came out of the synthesizer sounded gentle, like barely a touch of silk. Rick himself was still amazed at times at how natural it seemed.

Sato replied almost immediately. 

"Not so simple? Oh, I figured that out a long time ago. You're the most mysterious puzzle I've ever encountered. But isn't that the whole point? I'm willing to spend nights trying to figure you out. Scarlet, you're worth it." 

Rick felt the corners of his lips twitch. Sato was able not only to capture attention, but also to turn the situation around so that any other player would be completely captivated by his words. 

"Too good to be true. Or are you really the way you want to appear?" Rick thought, feeling excitement flare up inside. 

Another line appeared on the screen, but now it was accompanied by a suggestion of a voice call. 

"No, no, no, not that!" — in a panic, Rick quickly grabbed the synthesizer and checked the settings. The answer button was already pressed, and the phone's screen came to life, displaying Sato's crystal-clear voice. 

"Good evening, Scarlet. I hope I haven't disturbed your privacy." 

Rick took a deep breath, trying to suppress his inner panic. 

"Satou, you know how much I appreciate peace of mind. But with you… This is different. You always bring something... interesting." 

A second of silence on the line. It seemed like Sato was deliberately pausing to make the other person even more nervous. 

"I'm glad you think so. I hope next time you'll let me do more than just disturb your peace of mind." 

Rick bit his lip, trying not to reveal his true state. This game was getting deeper and deeper, and it was already impossible to get out of it. 

"What do you mean, Sato, do more? Rick asked with the help of a synthesizer. Sato paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. There was a hidden subtext in his pause that Rick couldn't immediately decipher. Then his voice rang out, deep and calm, but with a slight note of provocation. 

"Scarlet, you do understand that I'm not just talking about words. Sometimes actions say much more than we dare to say." 

Rick tensed, trying not to show his dismay. Damn, he's playing, and he's playing masterfully, he thought, forcing a smile to show in his voice. 

"You're a master of innuendo, Sato. But why don't you be a little straighter? It's not every day that I hear such mysterious sentences." 

Sato laughed softly, but there was something both warm and wary about it. 

- "Straightforwardness... It's boring, don't you think? If I just say that I want to see you, hear you laugh, and maybe find out what's hidden behind your armor, you'll think I'm ordinary. But it seems to me that you deserve more than trivial confessions." 

Rick felt his heart beat faster. This game of intrigue was becoming dangerous. 

"Satou, you obviously like words. But I wonder if you're hiding behind them. Are you afraid of being rejected?" 

This time, Sato didn't respond immediately. His words seemed to be carefully chosen. 

- "Rejection? Maybe. But with you... I'm willing to take the risk. Every risk in your case is worth it. Although... Maybe I should give you a chance to make a move first? Or would you prefer me to take the initiative?" 

Rick took a deep breath, trying to maintain control. The synthesizer gave out a voice full of gentleness and confidence: 

"Let's just say I'm not used to such challenges. But maybe that's the whole point. So, Sato, it's your move. Let's see how brave you are." 

Sato smiled, and even though Rick couldn't see him, he felt it. 

"Scarlet, you're amazing. But I'm used to proving it with actions. Wait, and maybe you'll realize that my courage knows no bounds." 

The call ended, leaving Rick in silence. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension from the conversation begin to ease. 

"What the hell was that?" — he thought, looking at the phone. Sato's every word seemed to be carefully calculated, like the movements of an experienced chess player. And now Rick understood: This game is just beginning, and getting out of it will be much more difficult than he expected. 

It was already 3 o'clock, and Rick began to feel the urge to eat. All this tension, constant thoughts about his plans and games, sleepless nights behind the screen, new account upgrades and perfect strategies for the game. All this took away his strength and energy. His body was beginning to treacherously pull towards the refrigerator, but suddenly there was a knock on the door. 

"Hmm, who the hell is that?" Rick blurted out, and he walked irritably to the door. He didn't want anyone to bother him, but curiosity got the better of him. He wasn't expecting any guests. As he approached the peephole, he saw the same courier — a guy in a yellow uniform, with disheveled hair and tired eyes, as if he had just completed a marathon across the city. The young man looked to be in his twenties, and his face was familiar to Rick. This guy wasn't here for the first time. 

"What the hell?" Rick muttered, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. But then he realized who was standing at his door. He already knew that it was related to Sato. He always played games, but his games were never simple. He was like a chess player who manipulated the pieces on the board, keeping everyone in suspense, and Rick was one of those pieces. 

Without wasting any time, Rick quickly jumped up to the voice synthesizer, turned it on and, adding softness and a little femininity to his voice, said: "Please put everything on the floor." 

The courier, as always, didn't say a word. He just nodded and obediently left the heavy bags by the door, turned around and left without looking back. This was so typical of Sato. He always remained in the shadows, leaving only indirect traces, and his gestures were as anonymous as possible, forcing people to guess and worry. 

When the door closed, Rick sighed and looked at the bags. He understood that this was far from an accident. Food is not just food. It was all part of some much bigger plan that Sato had obviously worked out long ago. It was another one of his games, and Rick was no longer just a player. He was one of those who should have felt in control of the situation. However, this did not happen. Sato was always one step ahead, and Rick couldn't help but feel that maybe he was the one who was being manipulated. The phone rang again, Rick picked up, Sato spoke first.; 

"Well?" Did the courier deliver the package? Enjoy 

Rick sighed, hiding his mixed emotions behind the synthesizer's voice. 

"You never cease to amaze me... But it's still too much, Sato. You buy them so many times. I'm embarrassed, really." 

There was a soft, satisfied laugh on the other end of the line.

"Scarlet, awkwardness doesn't suit a woman like you. You're used to conquering the world, so take it for granted. Or should I ask for permission to pamper you?" 

Rick froze for a second, trying not to show his nervousness. 

"No, of course not, but..." 

"Then it's settled," Sato interrupted her with a confident note in his voice. 

—Sato, this is too much," Rick said, turning on the synthesizer again. 

—There's no word for 'too much,'" came the pleased reply. "You're my princess, and I want you to feel it." 

Rick froze for a moment. Sato's words sounded so sincere that he couldn't help but wonder what was behind this excessive concern. 

—Okay, thanks," Rick finally replied, trying not to think too much. "You always take such good care of me." 

"Of course. But I have to go, honey. Enjoy. And remember, I'm always there for you." 

The call ended. Rick sank wearily to the floor, running a hand over his face. 

After that, Rick picked up the heavy bags and immediately realized that it was not easy for him. It was designed for a lot of people. There were more than just standard products inside. No. It was a set that started from simple and cheap snacks and extended to expensive, exquisite delicacies. Sato wanted to leave a mark. He wanted Scarlet to feel that her life wasn't just dragged into this game. She was part of something much bigger than he could have imagined. 

Rick began to disassemble the package, his hands sliding over the packaging, opening each box, each package. There were strange combinations inside — fried snacks, chips, sushi, sandwiches, and even desserts that could decorate the menu of a five-star restaurant. And it was all perfectly packaged, as if the order had been made especially for a special person. At this moment, when he was looking at the food with interest, his thoughts stopped at one thing. Sato once again demonstrated his ability to be invisible. But Rick, for all his pride, couldn't help but feel excited. With every passing minute, his interest in what Sato was up to only increased. There were thoughts about abandoning this game, although then it was a pity for the character's account. Nevertheless, he plunged into her with every movement, with every sign left by Sato. 

"What's he up to?" whispered Rick, continuing to sort through the packages. And even though he knew that this was just another act in a big game, he still felt like this game was gradually dragging him in. Discarding all disturbing thoughts, Rick sat down on the floor, surrounded by boxes of food, and took the first thing that came to hand. They were hot chicken wings covered with delicious icing. The roasted aroma hit the nose, awakening a brutal appetite. He took a hungrily bite, enjoying the crispy crust and juicy meat. His apartment, usually quiet and almost lifeless, at that moment was filled with the sounds of rustling packages and the aromas of freshly prepared food. 

He didn't even notice when the door creaked, letting Micah in. Her energetic voice broke the silence.: 

— Brother, I'm home! Are you still asleep, Sonya? Or maybe he's stuck in the game again? She took off her jacket, threw it on a chair, and looked into the living room. 

When she saw a picture of her brother sitting on the floor among piles of boxes and engrossed in food, she grinned. 

— Of course! It's obviously not from sleep that you're so happy. What kind of feast is this for the whole world? Is Sato paying for you again? There was a mixture of mockery and habitual approval in her voice. 

Rick looked up and almost choked on her words, but quickly pulled himself together. 

"What if it is?" He's not stingy, you know. He waved a hand at the boxes. — Come on, join us before everything cools down. 

Mika sat down next to him, curiously examining the assortment. Her gaze landed on the exquisitely packaged dishes. 

— Huh, did he decide to please "poor Scarlet" this time? She laughed outright as she opened the box of rolls. — Brother, does he really believe that you are her? I mean, I know you have talent, but sometimes it seems to me that he's just enjoying the game itself. 

Rick shrugged, brushing an empty Coke can off the table. 

— He likes to think that he is an omnipotent benefactor. I'm just maintaining the illusion. And, to be honest, you're not against this "illusion" yourself, right? He pointed to her hand, which was already reaching for the second box. 

Mika didn't deny it. Her face broke into a satisfied smile, and she immediately began to eat. 

— Well, what can I say? His taste is almost an art form. But you know, brother, sometimes I think he's not so much interested in Scarlet as in the process itself. It's like he's not playing with you, but with himself, testing how far he can go. 

Rick nodded, considering her words. Maybe she was right, but it seemed to him that there was something more to Sato's actions. Not just a game. It was like a complicated dance in which both knew their roles, but no one knew the ending. 

"Anyway,— Mika added, leaning on the table, "I know for a fact that as long as he orders us this kind of food, I don't care about his motives. The main thing is that the rolls are fresh. 

Rick grinned, enjoying a rare moment of warm comfort. It seemed like the whole world had narrowed down to these food boxes, their conversations, and the light laughter that filled the apartment. But deep down, he knew the game wasn't over yet. And if Sato was a master strategist, then Rick was going to be his worthy opponent.