Martin woke up with his head and eyes heavy, as if his entire skull had been handcuffed to his pillow. His hand slipped out from under the blanket, searched blindly across the nightstand, and slapped the wood twice before finally finding his phone.

The alarm kept screaming like it had personal hatred for him.

There is no fucking way I have to get up right now.

For the past two weeks, he had been waking up with a spring in his step like some suspiciously healthy person. He went outside, ran, breathed fresh air, and almost convinced himself that his life was becoming stable.

Running had become his dopamine. He could already see the results in his legs and body, so he had honestly believed the habit would continue.

Of course, reality had other plans.

Today, he had woken up early only to go through his morning routine and make himself presentable for work. Instead of hopping into his running clothes and enjoying the breeze, he had to become a proper office worker again.

At least I thought I’d wake up refreshed. But now that I think about it, falling asleep wasn’t easy. Man, I shouldn’t say this lightly, but this has to be some kind of depression...

The thought annoyed him the moment it appeared. He knew what actual depression felt like, because he had gone through it once during the worst stretch of his life.

Back then, even the social media algorithm had seemed to notice and started feeding him endless posts about sadness, burnout, healing, and people trying to name their pain. Some of it had helped, while some of it had only made him feel more alone.

Remembering it now only made the morning feel heavier.

Ah, fuck it all.

He got out of bed with the posture of a defeated man and forced himself through his morning routine.

Once he was in his office suit, Martin picked up his briefcase, checked that he had his keys and phone, and left his studio apartment. Outside, the same familiar faces were already leaving for work.

They had never cared much about him, yet now he could swear he saw them side-eyeing him with faint smirks, as if welcoming him back to this hellish and exhausting routine. The dark circles under Martin’s eyes seemed to blacken even more under their gazes.

He was one of them, just as he had always been.

On his way to the train station, Martin walked hunched and dejected until the convenience store caught his eye. Since he could afford it now thanks to Cassandra’s payment, he decided to finally buy himself some cigarettes.

The first drag brought him a brief sense of peace, but the second immediately lost its charm, and the third only made him feel worse.

He stared at the cigarette between his fingers, then at the smoke curling into the morning air. For a second, he looked like a man trying to remember who had ordered this version of himself.

What am I doing? What am I fucking doing?

Martin threw the cigarette into a bin and carried on toward the office. On his way, he handed the pack to the first random smoker he saw.

"Huh? Why?"

"I’m quitting smoking."

"Ah, okay. Bet you can’t last longer than a day."

"Maybe."

Inside the office, his coworkers greeted him with jealous, almost satisfied looks. A few heads turned when he entered. One coworker’s typing slowed, while another leaned back just enough to pretend he was not watching.

At last, Martin had returned and was back to suffering with them, which reminded him of his neighbors.

Do people feel better knowing they aren’t alone? Must be copium. I feel vexed.

"Vacation treated you well?" one coworker asked, his gaze drifting toward the shadows under Martin’s eyes. "Because you look like you came back from unpaid overtime, not paid leave."

Martin sat at his desk and turned on his work PC. The moment his inbox opened, seventy-three unread emails stared back at him.

"Technically," Martin said.

In the dungeon, danger came with claws, arrows, and armored goblins. At work, danger arrived as unread emails, and the fact that they had no health bar only made them worse.

Martin had barely placed his hand on the mouse when his boss called out to him.

"Martin Ross!"

Martin’s work instincts kicked in. He rose from his chair and straightened as if years of surviving at the bottom rung of this corporate ladder were about to end with a termination notice.

His boss smiled. "Come to my office."

Martin nodded and followed him.

Could it be... another miracle?

Inside the boss’s office, Martin took a seat in front of the man’s desk and looked up at him. Tension gathered in his shoulders as he waited, and he kept his back too straight, as if bad posture might somehow count against him.

"Welcome back, Martin. Looks like you spent those two weeks well. We saw you on social media," the boss said.

Martin’s eyes went wide. "What?"

"Haha! You beat Thorn’Shield and had everyone talking! One of our employees recognized you, and now half the office knows you’re kind of a big deal!"

Martin clenched his hands under the desk.

I see. You were happy I came back to the same hell as everyone else. Maybe some of you tried the game and realized you couldn’t catch up. Maybe you saw my party and understood you’d never find people like them.

The thought made his party feel even more precious.

Martin swore to himself that he would keep them ahead of the game. He would never let anyone take his place, and he would make the party so good that everyone could be at their best there.

He liked his teammates more than he could admit. If he had to choose only one, he wouldn’t be able to, so he would rather somehow make it work and choose everyone.

"We’re all proud of you, Martin. I, for one, am seriously proud of you! Thanks to you, I managed to have a conversation with Cassandra Selfmore herself. It was online, but still. That’s one dream off my bucket list!" the boss said, unable to contain his happiness.

Martin smiled wide. "Yeah, she’s really awesome. I’m happy for you, boss!"

"Thank you, Martin! That said, I’d be an idiot not to ride this momentum. Keep growing in the game world. Your talent can’t be wasted, so I’m offering you a promotion."

His new role would be to supervise people like him. He would teach them the ropes, watch their numbers, correct their mistakes, and make sure they kept their work up to the company’s standards.

Martin remembered his own supervisor and the way the man had looked at him like he was trash. After teaching Martin a few things, that man had returned to his desk and lazed around until the end of the shift.

Now, Martin had a chance to become the same kind of person.

All those coworkers who had looked jealous and smug because he was back in the same bucket as them were now about to receive a little payback.

Martin leaned forward. "I accept, boss! Thank you. Seriously. When do I start?"

"Today!" the boss laughed.

"I’ll never forget this favor! I’ll make sure to make you proud!"

"Haha! I know you will!"

Martin left the office with his promotion still ringing in his ears.

Before returning to his desk, he adjusted his tie even though it was already straight. The movement was small, but it changed something. Five minutes ago, he had been one of them. Now, he was the one standing over the room.

The moment he stepped back into the main room, the same coworkers looked up at him. Some were curious, some were jealous, and some wore the careful expressions of people trying to guess whether someone else’s good news would become their bad news.

Martin’s gaze drifted to the coworker who had asked whether his vacation had treated him well.

The man gave him a polite smile. "Everything okay?"

Martin looked at his own desk, where seventy-three unread emails were still waiting like a nest of tiny corporate monsters.

Then he smiled back, calm enough to be polite and bitter enough to enjoy it.

"Actually, I just got promoted to supervisor," Martin said. "Since I’ll be handling team coordination from now on, I want you to start by clearing my unread emails and sorting anything urgent into a separate folder."

The coworker’s smile stiffened. "All of them?"

"All seventy-three," Martin said warmly. "Think of it as training."

For the first time that morning, the office routine looked a little less hellish.

On that day, Martin learned a valuable corporate lesson: hard work mattered, but knowing the right people mattered faster.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Martin glanced at the screen, expecting some ordinary notification, only for the names Night Espresso and Cassandra Selfmore to appear at the top of the message.

They had decided on the expansion area.

Martin’s smile widened before he could stop it. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Work had promoted him, and the game was already calling him back.