Sarah sighed as she dropped her grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. The trip had been exhausting—between the parking lot battle, the unexpected encounter with Mack, and her mother’s never-ending career intervention, she was more than ready to shut out the real world for a while.

  But first—laundry.

  She grabbed the bag of detergent pods from under the sink and made her way to the stackable washer and dryer in the hallway closet near her bedroom. It wasn’t much, but it did the job. She tossed in a load of darks, set the cycle, and hit Start.

  As she walked back toward the living room, she glanced at her VR rig sitting on her desk.

  Her fingers twitched, the temptation almost immediate.

  I could just log in for a second…

  But she shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself.

  Plenty of time for that when I start my homework. It’ll kill two birds—

  She stopped mid-thought, her nose scrunching.

  God, I sound like my dad.

  She made a face, then muttered under her breath,

  “I don’t want to kill two birds.”

  Shaking off the ridiculous train of thought, she turned toward the bathroom, washed her hands, and splashed some cool water on her face.

  That’s when her phone rang.

  She glanced at the screen and smiled.

  Natalie.

  She picked up immediately.

  “Hey, Nat.”

  “Hey, hon! What’s up?”

  “Just finished grocery shopping, about to eat something. You?”

  In the background, Sarah could hear the chaotic symphony of toddlers screaming and laughing, a faint crash of something probably breaking, and a tiny voice yelling “NO MINE!”.

  Natalie sighed dramatically.

  “Same old, same old. I swear, I live in a war zone.”

  Sarah laughed, heading back to the kitchen to warm up her food.

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Lots of caffeine and selective hearing.”

  “Skills I clearly need to learn.”

  Natalie chuckled.

  “So, any gaming news? You still hooked on Another Life?”

  Sarah opened her microwave and tossed in a bag of precooked stir-fry from Grassroot Grocer.

  “Yeah, I’m trying to get into coding contests. Met some developers—one of them even runs a store in-game.”

  “Damn, look at you networking in the metaverse.”

  Sarah smirked.

  “You remember when we used to play Death Alliance?”

  “Of course! We had the best guild.”

  Sarah leaned against the counter, nostalgia hitting hard.

  “Yeah, those PvP dungeon raids were insane. Remember when we took down that max-level guild in the Abyss Warzone?”

  “Hell yes! They were so salty.”

  “Best part was that one guy rage-quitting and sending me death threats in chat.”

  Natalie burst out laughing.

  “‘YOU WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IN LIFE, LOSER!’” she mimicked in a deep, exaggerated voice.

  Sarah snorted, grabbing a fork from the drawer.

  “God, I miss that game.”

  “Me too. But between my son and running the daycare, I barely have time to log in.”

  “Yeah, but maybe in a couple of years?”

  “Oh, definitely. Death Alliance has been online forever. People like us? We’re addicted for life.”

  “So true.”

  The microwave beeped, and Sarah pulled out her stir-fry, shaking the bag before dumping it onto a plate.

  “Girl, are you using your microwave?”

  “Yes?”

  “Sarah, come on. You’re better than this.”

  “I’ve been busy! I don’t have time to cook.”

  “So you’ve given up on actual food and gone full goblin mode?”

  “Excuse you, it’s high-quality frozen food from Grassroot Grocer.”

  “Uh-huh. Do they sell your dignity in the frozen aisle too?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes, plopping down at the table.

  “Speaking of Grassroot, I didn’t tell you what happened today.”

  “Oh god, what now?”

  Sarah took a bite before launching into her parking lot struggle, her mother’s relentless lecture, and the totally weird coincidence of running into some guy from class at the checkout.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Natalie cut in. “A guy?”

  “Yes, a guy.”

  “And you two argued?”

  “Yes?”

  “Sarah, that’s flirting.”

  Sarah nearly choked on her food.

  “IT WAS NOT.”

  “Girl, please.”

  “No, it was just—ugh, I don’t even know. He’s annoying.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I can hear you judging me.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  Sarah groaned, rubbing her temples.

  “He just… I don’t know. He seemed familiar. Like I knew him from somewhere.”

  Natalie was silent for a beat, then said,

  “You ever think maybe you’re just lonely?”

  Sarah froze mid-chew.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m just saying. You spend all this time in Another Life, making all these amazing things, but you haven’t gone on a date in, what, a year?”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “Uh-huh. Just think about it.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  In the background, there was a crash, followed by a high-pitched wail.

  “Crap. The little one just knocked over some juice. I gotta go.”

  “Alright. Talk soon?”

  “Of course. And Sarah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I believe in you. You’re gonna make it. Just trust yourself.”

  Sarah smiled.

  “Thanks, Nat.”

  “Now go enjoy your sad microwave dinner, peasant.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Love you too.”

  The call ended, and Sarah let out a breath.

  Her mind raced, but she shook it off and turned her attention to her laptop, scrolling through the ALVR Marketplace.

  She had one goal tonight—find land to rent.

  As she scrolled, a listing caught her eye, and she nearly dropped her fork.

  “A furry?”

  The ad for Beastman Estates showed an avatar—a werewolf in a sharp suit, holding out a digital contract with a tagline that read:

  “BE THE FIRST TO RENT PRIME BEACHFRONT PROPERTY!”

  Sarah stared.

  A werewolf in a suit? Sure. Why not?

  Without even seeing the land first, she prepaid for the plot.

  And then, as she looked at the confirmation screen, her mind drifted.

  I could invite Mackiaveli here… show him my builds… wine and dine him…

  Her brain suddenly screeched to a halt.

  “I must be getting lonely!”

  She said it louder than expected, then looked around her apartment, as if her neighbors might have heard her tragic realization.

  The dryer buzzed, breaking the awkward silence.

  Sarah quickly washed her dishes, then grabbed her laundry basket, all while her thoughts spiraled back to one thing.

  Mackiaveli.

  Why does everything keep leading back to him?

  Shaking her head, she tossed her clean clothes onto her bed, grabbed her VR rig, and logged into Another Life.

  It was time to see her new home.

  The moment Sarah logged into Another Life VR, she felt a rush of excitement. She had prepaid for a prime beachfront property, an entire island to use as her sandbox, coding zone, and potential future business hub.

  Time to see what my investment looks like.

  With a click, she teleported to the coordinates of her new land. The screen faded to black, the game loading her destination. Then—The world popped into view.

  And her heart sank.

  Wait…

  She turned slowly, looking around. This wasn’t an island. This wasn’t beachfront paradise. This was… a tiny floating piece of land barely big enough to park a virtual golf cart on.

  This… isn’t right.

  She pulled up her land info window, reading the property details again.

  Parcel Size: 256 square meters

  Prim Allowance: 100

  Sarah blinked.

  No. No, no, no. I bought a 256x256 meter SIM. Not… whatever this is.

  She whipped open the chat window, scrolling through the purchase confirmation. Her stomach twisted.

  I didn’t read the fine print.

  She thought she had paid for a 256 x 256 m SIM island…. Not a 256 m squared parcel.

  I got scammed.

  Sarah tried to rationalize it.

  Okay. Maybe it’s not that bad. I can still rez some objects, do some testing, right?

  She opened her inventory, scrolling to the Skatz Builder Box she had received at the coding class. She clicked Rezz Item.

  Error: Not enough prim allowance.

  She frowned.

  What?

  She tried again.

  Error: Not enough prim allowance.

  Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.

  Her head dropped into her hands as she groaned. She had spent real money on this land, and now it was completely useless.

  I can’t believe I fell for this.

  Sarah was usually so careful with purchases. But the excitement of finding a cheap beachfront property had clouded her better judgment. Now, she was stuck with a tiny virtual square and no room to build anything meaningful.

  She sighed.

  There was only one thing left to do. She opened her Friends List.

  Who’s online?

  Her eyes landed on a name. Mackiaveli (Online Now).

  Sarah hesitated.

  Do I really want to admit to him that I messed up this badly?

  Her fingers hovered over the private message window.

  What if he laughs at me? What if he thinks I’m dumb? What if—

  She shook her head.

  No. I need help. Suck it up.

  She started typing.

  Dani: Hey… you busy?

  A few seconds passed. Then—

  Mackiaveli: Depends. Is this a social call, or did you break something?

  Sarah rolled her eyes but smirked.

  Dani: Define "break."

  Mackiaveli: Oh no. What did you do?

  She hesitated for a second, then typed quickly.

  Dani: I… may have accidentally purchased a 256m2 plot instead of a full 256x256 SIM.

  There was a long pause. Then—

  Mackiaveli: …oh damn.

  Sarah winced.

  Dani: Yeah.

  Another pause.

  Mackiaveli: That sucks.

  Dani: I know.

  Mackiaveli: Like, REALLY sucks.

  Dani: I KNOW!

  Sarah groaned, running a hand down her face.

  He’s totally laughing at me right now.

  But then—

  Mackiaveli: Alright, no worries. This happens all the time. You can probably get your money back if you file a dispute. I’ll help you out. Where are you?

  Sarah let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  Dani: Sending you the location now.

  A few moments later, a bright shimmer appeared nearby, signaling a teleport arrival. And then—there he was. Mackiaveli materialized on the small plot, standing with his usual confident posture, hands in his pockets. Sarah knew it was just an avatar, but damn, it was a really good one.

  His broad shoulders, strong jawline, and effortlessly cool aesthetic made him look like he had just stepped out of a futuristic action movie. Even the way his character moved—smooth, deliberate—felt almost too natural. Her stomach did a little flip, her fingers tightening slightly.

  Okay, focus. He’s here to help, not to make you swoon like an idiot.

  Still, she couldn't help but admire the subtle details in his design—the way his jacket shifted when he moved, the effortless way he glanced around, the fact that even his gestures looked practiced and charismatic.

  She suddenly felt warm, like her body was reacting to something she wasn’t ready to admit. Then he turned to her, took one slow look at her tiny, sad plot of land, and smirked.

  Mackiaveli: Oh yeah. This is tragic.

  Sarah’s moment of secret admiration evaporated instantly. She crossed her arms, scowling.

  Yeah, and so is your attitude, buddy.

  She felt her passions pull back, safely stored away behind a veil of annoyance and frustration.

  Mackiaveli: Well, It is pretty bad.

  Dani: You don’t have to rub it in.

  Mackiaveli: No, but I will.

  She groaned, and he chuckled.

  Mackiaveli: Alright, first things first. Let’s get your money back. You still have the transaction details?

  She pulled up the receipt and sent him a screenshot.

  Mackiaveli: Alright, good. You bought this from Beastman Estates?

  Dani: Yeah. Some furry-looking avatar in a suit.

  Mackiaveli: Ah, Beastman. He’s… a character. But he’s not a scammer. Just sneaky with wording. I’ll message him.

  A few moments passed, and then—

  Mackiaveli: Okay, he’ll refund you. But next time, read the damn fine print.

  Sarah sighed in relief.

  Dani: You just saved my life.

  Mackiaveli: Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s talk land sizes so this doesn’t happen again.

  He explained everything—the difference between parcels and full SIMs, how prim limits were calculated, and why 256m2 plots were no longer standard.

  Mackiaveli: People used to buy tiny plots to put up ads or dump prim-heavy objects. It overloaded the servers. Now, landowners have to cap prim limits so people don’t go wild.

  Sarah nodded along, taking mental notes.

  Dani: And your cities? How many prims are those?

  Mackiaveli: Thousands. Some of them are entire worlds with custom AI integration.

  She blinked.

  Dani: Damn.

  Mackiaveli: Yeah, you gotta think big if you want to make a name here.

  Something about the way he said that made Sarah’s stomach flip.

  He’s just like me.

  With his help, she found a much better property—a private sandbox island with plenty of room for her builds, scripts, and testing. She rezzed a small prefab house, just something temporary. As she placed the final piece, Mackiaveli turned to her.

  Mackiaveli: Alright, you’re all set. Anything else before I go?

  Sarah hesitated.

  I don’t want him to leave yet.

  But she wasn’t going to say that.

  Dani: No, I think I’m good. Thanks again.

  He started to type something, then paused. Then—

  Mackiaveli: No problem. By the way, your name… Daniger. That wouldn’t happen to be from an old RPG, would it?

  Sarah blinked.

  Dani: Maybe. Why?

  Mackiaveli: No reason. Just… sounds familiar.

  She didn’t think much of it, but as he disappeared into the teleport shimmer, Mack smirked to himself.

  Yeah. I’m almost sure it’s her now.

  Sarah, meanwhile, stood alone on her new land, feeling lighter. A small smile tugged at her lips.

  Maybe Mackiaveli isn’t so bad after all.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.