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Vivi_Courtesan_42
🕑 Added 2026-02-02 14:00:12 +0000 UTC— Well… do you believe me now? — slowly turning her head, she caught his gaze and yanked the wig off completely, as if tearing away the last curtain between them.
— Ethan?.. — Mark stepped back, his palm still hanging in the air over the interface. — No. This… no. I had a beer with you in Brooklyn yesterday. You were laughing at my new helmet. You were… — he stumbled, shifting his eyes from the masculine features of her face to the outline of the dress. — You were yourself.
— Yesterday in Brooklyn it was someone who was supposed to be me, — she said, trying to keep her voice steady. — I told you where we hid the batteries in the school lab, and how you broke the server room key. You can’t fake that.
— Anyone could know that if they dug through our old networks, — Mark threw back stubbornly, but quieter now. He looked up at the interface and flinched. — The name above you says “Vivi_Courtesan_42.” Player tag: missing. Shit. Is this… is this a bug? An exploit?
— It’s a nightmare, Mark, — she crossed her legs, feeling how the tight skirt pulled her knees closer together than her old body was used to. The high collar covered her neck, and she felt like it pressed a little, hiding what she didn’t want to see. — I can’t log out. The exit button is greyed out. The AI says I’m an NPC. If I get killed here, I’m not sure I’ll wake up.
— And I’m not sure you’re not messing with me, whoever you are, — Mark gave a nervous chuckle, trying not to panic. After all, it was just a game, even if the most popular one now, since the full-dive tech was released. — Head transplants? Yeah right, you really do look like Ethan, exactly the same face.
— Because I am him, — she replied, — Turn off your overlay and look deeper.
Mark twitched his fingers, bringing up the system windows. His face stayed stubborn, but his gaze was already drifting over the lines.
— “Vivi_Courtesan_42,” — he read aloud. — Player tag: missing. Owner: encrypted. Last activities… — he fell silent, glancing sideways at her. — Fines in the “Hookah Alley” district, interactions: “invite to room,” status: “scripted actress,” interaction: “Open all holes” and—
— You’re looking in the wrong place, idiot… — not harsh, more softly, and blushing right after, she looked away, adding in a tone that was too sexual, too gentle — God, even here I can’t raise my voice.
Mark’s mouth twitched as if he was about to joke, but he froze. His eyes lingered on the line of her thigh, where the skirt had stretched just slightly, barely hinting at a curve. Then he looked up toward her masculine face, but his gaze kept catching on the shape of her breasts, which the dress made all too obvious. She felt the fabric tug slightly at her skin and pressed her knees together even tighter, as if trying to control what she could no longer change.
— Ethan… or… Vivi… — he pressed his lips together, — So you’re saying that three months ago you, if it’s really you, took some quest thinking it was a unique scenario, but failed it, and instead of killing you they took you to… where was it?
— The “Vixens of Dawn” lab — she said, feeling her mouth go dry. — I thought it was just going to be the ending. You know “Vixens of Dawn,” they hate men. I thought they’d kill me and I’d respawn in my apartment, but when I woke up I wasn’t home, I was… in that whore dorm where I live now. — she almost whispered, her throat trembling.
Mark frowned, but in the corners of his eyes she caught something — an interest he was trying to hide.
— And you… — he hesitated, picking his words slowly, — all this time… worked as an NPC?
— Worked? — she gave a bitter smile. — No, Mark. I lived it. Every day — in this body, in this dress, in these scenes. They made me… “perform.” I was scared they’d kill me… I… I talked.
He looked away, but couldn’t help throwing a quick, almost hungry glance at her body.
— Ethan… — he said quietly, — If that’s true, then… who’s in your real body now… an NPC?
She froze. The look in her eyes, which had been full of exhaustion and bitterness, suddenly turned sharp.
— That’s exactly what I’m afraid of — she said, leaning forward slightly, the hoop earrings trembling with the movement. — I thought about it, but since time runs slower here (author’s note: 1 day in real life = 1 week here), I was scared my body was lying unconscious somewhere, but you just told me it’s not like that, and now I really don’t know what to do.
Mark smirked, though he realized it was unnecessary.
— What do you mean? Call the admins.
— Call the admins? — she raised an eyebrow slightly. — Mark… I thought about that too, but right now, after what you told I though… they might just send me straight back to that brothel when they see I’m not a player. I just escaped from there and I’m not going back. It’s a horrible place.
Mark leaned back in his chair and nodded, as if making a decision for himself.
— Alright. Let’s say I believe you. You want… what? For me to hide you in my apartment while you’re here?
She lifted her eyes slowly, as if afraid he might read everything she’d been hiding for the past three months.
— Yes. You can. You still have that penthouse in the Green Quarters, right? It’s safe there.
— And you know I don’t just let anyone in — he narrowed his eyes slightly. — Not even old friends.
— I thought we were friends. — She crossed her arms, and the soft fabric of the dress stretched across her breasts, making Mark get distracted for a moment. She noticed it, and the corners of her lips twitched. — Or is it hard for you to remember me… under all this?
He let out a heavy breath.
— Fine. But I want to check something. You’re saying all of this started when you took that quest?
— Yes. “Rite of Dawn.” In the Red Sands district.
Mark nodded, leaning forward.
— I’ll go there. Take that quest. See what happens.
— Are you insane? — she straightened sharply. — Mark, if they catch you, they’ll… — she broke off, lowering her gaze to her own body, as if it had become an argument in itself.
He smirked.
— I doubt it. Honestly, right now you just seem like some bug to me, although a very realistic one. So if it’s a quest, I need to take it, and if you really are Ethan, then I need to take it even more. Got it, babe?
Her face twitched, as if he’d slapped her, not spoken.
— Don’t call me that — she said quietly, her voice rough, and in that tone was all the weariness that had built up over the past three months. — You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that… and in what situations.
Mark raised an eyebrow slightly.
— Alright, alright, don’t get heated. It’s just a joke.
— A joke for those who paid for “extra scenes” — she cut him off, not taking her eyes off him. — When they lift you up like a doll and sit you on…
She stopped herself, realizing she was saying too much. Deep down she still wanted to get back to her life and didn’t want anyone, not even her best friend, to know such details.
The room fell into a pause, as if even the interface had frozen, listening in. Mark stared at her a little longer than usual, as if trying to match her words with the image of Ethan in his head.
— Alright — he said finally, leaning back in his chair. — Until I figure this out, I’m calling you Vivi. I’ve already got enough of Mark’s head in my own. And put the wig back on, please.
She slowly lifted the wig, as if weighing in her hands a piece of her lost freedom, and reluctantly pulled it back on. The soft synthetic hair fell over her shoulders, covering part of her face and neck, and with it came back the feeling of that role she had been trying so hard to escape.
— That’s better — Mark remarked, but there was something in his voice that sounded like nervous concern. — Let’s go.
— You’re an idiot, you know that, Mark? — she smirked, picking up her purse and walking gracefully after him, taking his arm with professional ease.
— What’s that about? — he asked, flustered, stopping at the door.
— Habit — she replied almost casually, but with that same perfected sway of her hips that had become reflex over these months. — Besides, it’s easier not to fall in heels if you suddenly decide to yank me somewhere.
He snorted but gripped her elbow a little tighter.
— Alright, Vivi. Just make sure you don’t get used to it.
She smirked with the corner of her lips, looking ahead.
— You make sure you don’t get used to it.
