NOVEL WEB Chapter 6 - New Favourite
Three excruciatingly strange hours later, Gabriel and I had returned to our room and were quietly dressing down.
‘That was by far the strangest thing I’ve ever been a part of…’ I couldn’t help but muse as the proceedings of the evening continued to swirl around in my head.
After Valeria had interrogated everyone of their current doings, bar myself who had only gotten that one single line of attention right at the start, we had finally gotten to eat some food. I only then realised that it was my first ever meal in this new body and world—a monumental moment, if one wanted to be emotional about it.
Oliver had gotten us some kind of fried noodles, likely from a nearby vendor somewhere inside of our megabuilding, which were supposedly my favourite before the whole ‘dying’ incident. And after trying them, I had to admit, they were indeed not too shabby!
Throughout the meal, I’d endeavoured to emulate Valeria’s calculated gestures and mannerisms, aiming to elevate my status in her discerning eyes. The worst possible scenario, I figured, would be if this corporate lioness deemed me a hindrance—or God forbid, a liability to her meticulously sculpted career.
I’ve played, read and watched anything the cyberpunk genre had to offer for over a decade. If it’s taught me just one universal truth about it, it's that corporate sharks are relentless in all of them, unencumbered by sentiment when climbing their gilded ladders, family be damned.
As such, I could not afford to become Valeria's problem, not even for a nanosecond.
The sole glint of silver lining in this whole unsettling affair was the series of notifications I received from the G.E.M.A. System. Pulling up my Ego Attribute Information, a flicker of excitement lit up my insides.
[— Attribute Information: Ego 1 — 500 / 1,000 XP —]
[The measure of a person’s self. Determines the ability to remain in control of emotions, supports self-set goals, directly opposes Intuition and staves off the negative influences of cybernetic enhancements.]
In the span of this single, bewildering dinner, I'd racked up half a level's worth of experience points!
That was astronomically generous, especially when stacked against the meagre gains my Body Attribute had eked out over the course of an entire day.
A part of me, therefore, found itself oddly grateful for Valeria's peculiar brand of eccentricity. The same part that was, in some twisted, stockholm-syndrome kind of way, almost looking forward to the next familial dinner, eager to harvest another bountiful haul of experience points.
But for now, I was simply glad that this strange day was coming to a close.
“You need any help over there?” Gabriel’s voice echoed over from his side of the metal sheet that divided our room into our individual domains.
“No, I think I got it. Thank you,” I replied as I struggled to peel the evening dress off of my body. Not being able to move much was a real pain in the ass—quite literally, as I had sat on this unergonomic thing for the past dozen-or-so hours by now!
Finally however, I managed to peel the dress off of my body—not without a lot of swearing and cursing, of course—before I threw on a fluffy pyjama set I found in my wardrobe. The quality of the clothes themselves was surprisingly good, considering the rest of my wardrobe’s state.
This whole operation took a good twenty minutes and I was thoroughly out of breath by the end of it. Nevertheless, I felt content with the fact that I had managed to at least undress and dress myself. I did not want to repeat the embarrassment that was having Gabriel help me put on the dress the first time around—that experience was utterly mortifying.
Finally, I guided my wheelchair beside the bed, aligning it as closely as I could. Gathering a breath of determination to prepare myself for the arduous task ahead, I attempted to transfer myself from the chair onto the sleeping surface.
Notice, I said 'attempted,' because it went south in a spectacular fashion.
You see, the intricacies of having Attributes as opposed to a standard human body lay in the Attributes' pervasive influence on one's overall physiology, which was in this case not to my advantage whatsoever.
It wasn't merely a matter of my leg muscles being atrophied, requiring rehabilitation. Instead, it was an all-encompassing debilitation, courtesy of my dismal Body Attribute of -1. Consequently, when I braced my arms against the armrests to hoist myself over, the outcome was a lesson in humility.
My arms, sapped of any form of strength by my pitiful Body Attribute, failed me.
I plunged towards the ground, my limbs flailing weakly in an attempt to catch myself as if I were one of those wacky inflatable tube men you see at used car dealerships. The fall culminated in a painfully loud collision as my skull met the bed's unyielding metal frame before I finally crumpled onto the dirty floor next to it.
The instant I hit the floor, Gabriel's voice pierced the room from his side. "Sera, are you okay?!" He was already crossing past the metal-sheet that separated our sides of the room, concern palpable in every word.
"Promise me you won't tell Oliver or Valeria," I said immediately, cutting him off before he could reach me. My head was spinning, but this was of the utmost priority. "Promise me, Gabriel!"
He hesitated, his eyes scanning mine before he finally nodded. "Okay, I promise! Just let me help you up already."
With that assurance, I allowed him to help me up. It was a slow, painstaking process, but eventually, I found myself perched on the edge of the bed. As Gabriel took a closer look, he drew in a sharp breath.
"You're bleeding… bad," he pointed out, clearly worried. Without another word, he dashed into the living room and was back within seconds, holding a can of basic first-aid spray.
I winced as he applied the spray to my forehead, sealing the open wound with a cool, tingling sensation. "You should be good now… At least in terms of the bleeding," he said, putting the cap back on the can and setting it aside.
"Tell me, how many siblings do you have?" Gabriel began, his voice carrying an undertone of clinical concern that made the air in the room feel suddenly dense.
"Just you?" I answered, my eyebrows knitting together in puzzled apprehension.
"And what was the first thing you showed me today when I asked what you'd been up to?"
"I demonstrated my progress with leg rehabilitation exercises—which by the way, was very impressive, thank you very much! What's the point of this interrogation?" I couldn't help but feel a rise in irritation, which did nothing to alleviate my headache.
"And what did Dad do when he got home?"
Realisation finally dawned on me, prompting me to cut him off. "Gabriel, seriously, I'm fine. Memory's crystal-clear. Aside from this excruciating headache, I'm good. No need for the rapid-fire Q&A. You’re making my head throb even more."
His shoulders slumped in visible relief. "Okay, if you're sure. Sorry, Sera. I was just worried about a potential concussion or anything, especially ‘cause you just got out of a coma."
Carefully shaking my head, so as to not aggravate my already pounding skull, I interjected, "I think it's more like a bruise to my ego and a stark lesson in humility."
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, lightening the tension that had fogged the room. "Well, let's aim for fewer ego-bruising lessons then, shall we? Don’t scare me like that." His eyes flicked back to the sealed wound on my forehead, and he winced.
"Yikes. That's going to leave a mark. Makeup won't cover this one up—and you don’t usually wear any. Unless the 'new you' is inclined otherwise?" His eyes probed mine for a response.
"Gabriel, how could I possibly know that? Haven't tried make-up yet," I responded, cupping his cheeks with my weak hands to steady his darting gaze.
"Ah, yeah. Of course," he conceded, his face softening under my touch. "Still, that gash isn't going to magically disappear by morning. If you think of a good cover story, let me know, and I'll back you up."
I nodded, my gratitude swelling inside me. I had been so caught up in my immediate discomfort that I hadn’t considered the longer-term implications of my visible injury—especially if Oliver or Valeria saw it.
Once again, I owed Gabriel for his foresight and strangely mature and adjusted behaviour. Seriously, how did he manage to end up like this?
At last, after grilling me with a litany of questions about my well-being—for what felt like the umpteenth time—Gabriel finally retreated behind the makeshift divider to his own section of our shared space. The sound of his footsteps receding left me alone with the soft rustle of bedsheets and my own spiralling thoughts.
'Could this day have been any more fucking humiliating?' I mused bitterly, recounting the cascade of indignities. 'First, the guy has to help me into a dress, and now he witnesses me practically bashing my skull open in a pathetic attempt to get into bed. Fantastic. Hey, Universe, any chance for a do-over? This day has been an utter masterclass in fuck-ups.'
Eyes closed, I felt the pulsating throb of my headache subside just a fraction, the darkness behind my lids offering minor respite. Deep, deliberate breaths expanded my lungs, each exhale serving as an attempt to organise the jumbled mess of my thoughts.
As I continued to breathe and focus on the air streaming through my lungs for a good ten minutes-or-so, rather than the pain in my head, my demeanour slowly recovered. ‘My therapist always did say these exercises would come in handy someday—bet she didn’t see this situation coming though, ha!’
Suddenly, I was jerked wide awake by the now-familiar chime of a System notification.
[System]: [Meditation] Skill unlocked.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
"Ah, right," I mumbled under my breath, a subtle grin forming on my face.
The notion had completely slipped my mind: The [Meditation] Skill was an actual feature in Neon Dragons. That meant I could potentially kill two birds with one stone—gaining Skill experience while tackling this infuriating headache!
In the gaming community, the [Meditation] Skill was often viewed as a waste of time—vastly overlooked and underutilised in my personal opinion. Many players simply couldn't be bothered to invest the tedious hours required to evolve the Skill into something worthwhile. In-game, it was like a neglected artefact gathering dust in a forgotten corner.
But my situation diverged from the casual or even hardcore gamer.
This was my reality now; it wasn’t a matter of only being able to allocate a few hours a day to gameplay, or even sixteen for content creators. No, I had the full breadth of each day stretching before me, all twenty-four relentless hours of it—unless, of course, I got knocked unconscious or met some other unfortunate fate.
The Skill, which allowed characters to re-center their focus, remove negative status effects, and temporarily boost their mental Attributes, was admittedly a poor fit for the frenetic pace of the game. Rarely would you find a moment where settling down to meditate was more beneficial than, say, slaughtering hordes of scavs to gain enough experience points for an Intellect upgrade.
Yet, given my unique circumstances, this seemingly obscure Skill had the potential to become incredibly potent—a golden opportunity lurking behind the drudgery.
And so, the time seemed ripe to invest some time into the overlooked art of [Meditation]!
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
A big grin split my face as I looked at the stacked-up notifications of the System about two hours later. My headache was basically gone by now and I had managed to stack up a seriously impressive 600xp for the Skill!
‘Who would have ever thought that [Meditation] would be my highest level Skill someday…? Well, not counting the ones given for free by my Traits, of course,’ I thought to myself with mirth.
The accumulated fatigue from hours of meditation, the day's physical exertion, and the whirlwind of emotions had left me feeling utterly drained.
Ready to surrender to sleep's embrace, I reached for the worn switch of the dingy light fixture mounted above my bed and turned it off. My eyes closed once more, this time without any intention of meditating or performing mental gymnastics.
I was on the cusp of attempting to dive into a, hopefully, relaxing sleep when an unfamiliar chime resounded in my head, shocking me back into wakefulness.
‘What on Earth is this now?’ I thought, directing my mental focus towards the holographic interface in my mind. Accessing this felt bizarre, like flexing a muscle I didn't even know existed, yet it operated seamlessly.
[System]: Rest attempt detected. Would you like to use the rest function?
My eyes scanned the text incredulously.
‘I have a rest function?! Holy shit!’
Astonished yet hopeful, I affirmed the query with an instinctive mental nod. A new screen materialised in front of my eyes, eerily reminiscent of a similar in-game interface from Neon Dragons.
[— Rest —]
[Timer: 00:00:00]
Admittedly, I was apprehensive about what activating this enigmatic function might entail.
Yet, the prospect thrilled me.
If this function mirrored its in-game counterpart, it would absolutely revolutionise my life.
Insomnia had been a chronic issue for me in my previous life, after all. This function, if it worked as I theorised, could offer me the ability to dictate the length and quality of my sleep.
Unable to contain my mounting excitement, I mentally punched in '8 hours' into the timer and took a steadying breath before confirming.
My eyes fluttered open, met by a wash of sunlight filtering through the small window near the ceiling.
‘Wait, sunlight? Wasn't it night? Wasn't I about to—’
It clicked.
It was the next morning!
The instant I had activated the timer, I was plunged into a seamless, dreamless sleep. "Holy shit!" I muttered, my voice tinged with disbelief and exhilaration. A chuckle bubbled up from within me, its essence a blend of awe and euphoria.
This was definitely the best thing of this entire experience, bar none.
Friendship ended with Attributes, Traits and Skills.
The rest function was my new best friend!
As if the rest function truly needed to dunk on the rest of this G.E.M.A. System, two notifications popped up as well.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00
[System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
‘I get fucking rested XP too?! This is definitely the best feature of the entire System, holy shit. Whatever god, genie or otherwise semi-omnipotent being got me here, thank you so much!’
In the world of Neon Dragons, several mechanisms granted players Bonus XP, and rested XP was among the most popular. For each hour of in-game rest using the Rest Function, you earned 50 rested XP, and an extra 50% bonus kicked in if you clocked a full eight-hour stretch.
Though it might seem elementary, the discovery that rested XP existed in this reality too was a revelation. It was like discovering a piece of the old world embedded in the fabric of this new one. If XP, Attributes, Skills, and Levels were all part of this reality—as well as the Rest Function—it should have logically followed that rested XP would be here too, but it simply didn’t occur to me before.
Still, realising it this early was utterly groundbreaking.
"Hey, you awake there, sis? I hear you chuckling over there. What's so funny?" Gabriel's voice floated over to me from his partitioned section of the room.
Caught off guard by his query, I replied, "Ah, yes, I'm awake. Just musing over something, that's all." I felt a bit self-conscious about my solitary moment of glee.
"Alright, good to hear. Listen, I've got to head out for work soon. Do you need any help getting your day started?" His voice was tinged with concern, and I could hear the distinct sound of fabric rustling behind the partition. He was likely pulling on his work attire.
For a moment, pride tempted me to decline his offer, to assert my independence. But then, the memory of last night's humiliating tumble flooded back, a stark reminder of my current limitations.
Swallowing my pride, I hesitantly responded, "Um, actually, if you could help me get into the chair, that would be great."
Moments later, I heard the zip of a jacket being fastened, signalling the end of Gabriel's wardrobe transformation. He walked around the partition, now fully donned in his work attire—practical and utilitarian, looking suspiciously like something I’d have imagined a cashier to wear.
His eyes met mine for a moment, a blend of sibling concern and mature understanding.
Carefully, almost reverently, he slid his arms under my back and knees. With a lift that hid the effort involved, he transitioned me from the bed into the wheelchair parked alongside it. It was a smooth motion, carried out with the expertise of someone who'd moved around weights more than once in their life.
"As for your forehead, you'll probably need to swap out that first-aid spray patch," he noted, his eyes briefly flicking to the sprayed-on bandage on my forehead. "I left the can by the mirror for you. Anything else you need before I go?" His question lingered in the air, an open invitation for any last-minute requests.
"No, I think I'll manage. Thanks, Gabriel," I replied, touched by his conscientiousness but not wanting to keep him from his responsibilities. Also, I really needed some free space from all this family business.
Having a real family was something entirely new to me and while it was definitely not a negative, especially with Gabriel’s strangely mature behaviour, I really needed some alone time to recharge. Getting thrown into this wild family dynamic right on my first day was just a little bit too much for me.
"Alright," he nodded, his face pulling into a brief but warm smile. "Remember, don't overdo it. You're still getting your bearings, Sera. And if you need me, just call me via your implants. I’ll head back as soon as I can, should you need me."
With that, he grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and exited the apartment.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone, awash in the silence that followed.
I breathed a relieved sigh of finally having some alone-time again and simply enjoyed the brief moment. But ultimately, I knew that I had to make these hours count. I had experience to grind!
Turning my attention back to my own tasks, I began the laborious process of changing my clothes. Simple tasks like these felt mountainous given my current state, but I navigated through it, one arduous step at a time. Finally dressed, after what felt like an eternity of exhausting labour, I wheeled myself over to the mirror.
The patch on my forehead looked worn, a dull grey compared to the skin surrounding it.
"Haa… What on earth am I going to say to explain this mess? 'Oops, I tripped' hardly seems adequate," I mused under my breath, agonising over the narrative I would have to weave.
Above all else, I couldn't afford for Valeria to perceive me as a liability; that was non-negotiable, priority one. And then there was Oliver. His freakout when he first saw me home yesterday had been a chaotic whirlwind of emotions that I had no desire to repeat.
Being the eye of that particular storm was far from pleasant.
Yet, I wondered if I was spiralling down a rabbit hole of overanalysis. Accidents happen, especially during the challenging course of physical rehabilitation. Surely that was universally understood, right?
An intriguing thought suddenly dawned on me. Valeria, ever the corporate pragmatist, might even see my mishap as a badge of earnest effort, tangible evidence that I was working hard to be useful to her. Oliver's inevitable disapproval of my getting injured might be a small price to pay for currying favour with the boss.
Resolved to stick with that angle—unless struck by a divine bolt of storytelling inspiration—I cautiously removed the adhesive patch, mentally bracing for the biting sting that would follow as it separated from my skin.
To my astonishment, however, the expected pain never came.
Baffled, my eyes met their reflection in the smudged mirror, as I checked for my wound.
Not a mark, not a blemish, not a single indication that my forehead had been split open just hours before. It was as if last night's accident had never happened.
My fingertips danced hesitantly to the spot, probing and pressing the skin.
'Is this some sort of incredibly advanced scab?,' I wondered. I pushed, pulled, and pinched, half-expecting to unveil some odd layer of new skin or unearth a hidden ache. Yet, nothing. My skin felt as normal as ever, as if it had been years rather than hours since the injury.
The realisation washed over me like a wave, just as I noted another crucial detail: The gnawing headache that had accompanied me to sleep, which I had felt throbbing behind my eyes when I activated the rest function, had vanished too.
Gone, without a trace, as if it had never been there to torment me.
Then it clicked. The Rest Function!
In Neon Dragons, activating the rest function didn't just give you peace of mind for a quick nap and pass the time—it fully restored your character's HP and Stamina!
Was I really entertaining this thought? As far-fetched as it seemed, the facts were there, written all over my unscarred forehead and in the newfound clarity of my thought.
‘There’s no way…’ I thought to myself, refusing to believe what I was thinking about. I couldn't help but shake my head in a combination of disbelief and awestruck wonder.
If my conclusions were right, and I was having a hard time arguing against the evidence staring back at me in the mirror, then the Rest Function did more than just simulate sleep; it acted as a miraculous instant-heal.
The implications were staggering, thrilling, and more than a little unsettling—after all, how the hell did that even work? Skills and such, sure. They were mostly knowledge, so it could be downloaded into my brain like the helicopter manual for Neo.
But fully healing me overnight?!
One thing was undeniable, regardless: However this strange function worked, its usefulness could not, ever, be understated…