Bailonz Street 13

While playing a VR game, you can sometimes become deeply immersed, but not usually to this extreme. VR games involve moving your entire body, which leads to fatigue, naturally causing you to take breaks. However, my perceived time… had already exceeded eight hours. The fact that I didn’t notice this, and that I was so absorbed in the game, was surprising.

Even more astonishing was that I didn’t feel tired at all! Although I was controlling Jane’s body, I didn’t feel any physical fatigue. Following the choices and actions within the time limits wasn’t overwhelming at all. Instead, I felt refreshed, like someone who had just woken up from a long, restful sleep.

I wondered how this could be possible. Yet, as if something blocked my thoughts, the question disappeared. A strong temptation in my mind urged me not to think further.

—Let’s continue. Why not? Today’s a good day for gaming. It’s fun, honestly. A subconscious voice seemed to whisper in my ear.

“Is there really a need to stop?” The words slipped out of my mouth.

You all must understand by now. I found playing this game extremely fascinating and satisfying. So, continuing to play shouldn’t be a problem. I was…

…Suddenly, hot tea spilled over, the scalding liquid pouring onto my lap. It burned!

I felt the heat on my leg!

Why?

Why did it burn? This is just a game, isn’t it? I was merely wearing goggles and a headset, so why was I feeling this?

My mind snapped into focus. The comfort and strange lethargy from before vanished, replaced solely by fear that chilled my spine.

I asked myself, ‘Why haven’t I exited the game?’

That was the most terrifying part.

I tried to end the game, but… the game didn’t shut down.

I no longer felt the sensation of the stick in my hand, the weight of the devices on my head and ears, or the heat emanating from the computer tower beneath me.

How could this be happening?

I lifted my head. Fear. Only fear gnawed at my sanity.

What is happening? What is this? What am I? What is going to happen to me?

In the puddle of spilled tea, a pale woman with light hair and an ordinary face stared back at me. She was mirroring my actions, covering her mouth with both hands, breathing as I did.

I smelled the scent of the tea. The crinkle of paper was tangible under my fingertips. I felt warmth and a heartbeat from this body that wasn’t mine.

Then, I heard Liam Moore’s voice.

“Jane.”

It was like a tidal wave receding, exposing the muddy shore underneath, revealing my bare self.

The solid barrier of “it’s just a game” crumbled, and my senses were merging with this place.

‘Since when?’

Since when had it been like this?

Upon reflection, it wasn’t so surprising. If I were merely playing a game, how could I recall the taste of food made from mere data and pixels, or the stench of corpses? Clues I had overlooked were everywhere, but I had ignored them. So, it was inevitable.

Rapid acceptance was necessary to maintain my sanity. Panic and fleeting madness would do no good. I needed to clearly assess my situation and find a way to resolve it.

Fortunately, all the game systems except for logout were functional. It seemed only I had become part of this virtual London. Telling anyone would undoubtedly get me labeled as insane.

The game map, the minimap at the top right of my vision, and the quest list below it still shone, welcoming me. Opening the tabs still paused the game. The evidence list, in-game images, and notebook storage slots were intact, and thankfully, it seemed I wouldn’t die permanently here. That provided some comfort.

I needed to figure out why I was perceiving everything as reality, but one thing was clear.

Jane’s body moved according to my will. It was as if she were a puppet waiting for a soul to enter.

I lifted my head and met the grey eyes of Liam Moore. His eyes had the soulless look typical of game NPCs, and his speech was monotonous, as if processed through a voice modulation program. The mechanical tone contrasted with his expressive face.

While someone else in my situation might have felt terrified, I felt reassured.

Yes, this is still a game. I just have to believe that the exit key has been pulled out. “Liam, Big Ben!”

Regaining my composure, I grabbed his arm and shouted. Liam, who was effortlessly pulled along, asked back.

“What is it?”

“The killers’ target! Look at this map. They’re spiralling around, like moving towards one point! They’ve reached the vicinity of Belgravia and Buckingham as a form of pressure. Maybe it’s a warning to those who notice, or a message to their comrades. A silent message to follow this path.”

Where’s my pen? I hastily retrieved the pen I had tossed aside. I drew lines on the map, marked with newspaper clippings, strings, and coloured ink. A shape resembling a pentagram emerged, with Big Ben at the centre.

“And when you connect it like this, Big Ben appears. Whatever it is, the final destination is here. These six cases aren’t all. People have probably been dying in the corners of London before this. As you know, deaths in East End slums aren’t surprising due to poverty and lack of security… The murder cycle is speeding up. We must deploy the police along this path and stop them tonight…”

Listening to my rambling, Liam Moore lifted me and seated me in a comfortable chair, his expression troubled.

“Jane, you’re too excited right now.” His calm tone helped me calm down as well.

Once I sat quietly, he touched my forehead and then knelt in front of me. The burning sensation from the spilled tea on my knee resurfaced. Liam, fearlessly lifting my skirt to check my knee, concluded that it wasn’t severely burnt. He then sat on the diagonal sofa.

“Actually, I’ve heard something similar.”

“About Big Ben?”

“No. We’ve caught their tail. You may not know, but London has many religions other than the Anglican Church and Greek Orthodox. Some are not recognized by the Vatican or the Archbishop of Canterbury. If you’re up for it, would you like to visit those places with me? It might be a bit rough and tough.”

I found it surprising that he got this information from a ‘social club.’ Those living in their own world, oblivious to reality, having an interest in non-state religions? It was laughable, even for the neighbourhood kids.

But if these dubious sources could solve my curiosity, I would eagerly go along.

“Then we should go now.”

Ah. Liam raised a finger.

“First, there’s something we need to do. Your clothes.”

“Oh.”

“It’s better to wear something comfortable. I like when you dress like a lady, but… we might need to run this time. You need something you can move easily in. Like pants.”

I raised my eyebrows and kicked Liam Moore. He dodged, laughing. Damn him.

I returned shortly, partially adopting the disguise techniques I had learned from him. Liam clapped approvingly.

“Good. You pass. Even I would mistake you for a teenage boy if I didn’t look closely. Our destination is… Whitmore Gardens.”

“There’s nothing to see there except Queen’s Park, right?” Liam Moore’s face lit up with a mysterious smile.

“Sometimes, secrets crawl in the shadows of London that we don’t notice, dear Miss Jane Osmond.”

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