At a private party somewhere, men and women swayed and danced indulgently in the center of a dim, sultry room. Flirtatious whispers mingled with suggestive touches—decadence and indulgence in full bloom.
A man paused mid-puff on his cigar, then shoved aside the giggling woman clinging to his side, loosening his collar in frustration. "It's been handled?"
The person beside him, head lowered, replied, "Wesley may still want to pursue it further, but Vice Principal Xu is inclined to settle things quietly."
"Tch."
"Could it be he's figured out I was behind it…" the man muttered to himself, then let out a low laugh. "So what? I bet he's fuming—Wesley, that bastard."
"Having a lowly commoner Sentinel sneak into your bedroom and not even being allowed to raise hell about it, ha ha ha ha ha—"
"Let me think, what else can I do to mess with him… let me think…"
The classic Mecha World PvP mode was simple: throw two players into a map for a one-on-one mecha showdown.
Victory required mastering both mecha mechanics and effective use of the map environment.
The more complex the map, the more room for creativity.
Jan specially picked a map with minimal obstacles for Vivienne.
Her SS-level mental strength was rumored to be god-tier—but she'd never had a real reason to tap into it.
Until now!
Vivienne unleashed a flurry of cannon fire, punches, and kicks in her shiny mecha.
K.O.!
She defeated the AI.
Jan's in-game avatar, watching from the virtual audience, waved a victory flag in her direction.
"That was fast." He had his character clap enthusiastically. "You cleared it in just a minute and a half."
Vivienne cracked her knuckles, hyped: "Xi Yi Xi is now stronger than ever—who else wants some?"
—And then came real opponents.
At her request, Vivienne jumped into a random online match.
Then proceeded to show off some absolutely wild reflexes and outrageously bizarre maneuvers that left her opponent stunned.
Like dodging a wave of gunfire… only to misstep and fall from a ledge.
Lost half her HP.
The poor random player probably thought they were getting clowned by a god-tier smurf. You dare lower your own HP just to mock me?!
Vivienne, meanwhile—"Ahh I fell! Crap! Oh wait, I'm still alive."
She frowned. "Why isn't he moving?"
"He's probably waiting for your next move," Jan replied.
Or, he thought, he's stewing in frustration while pretending to charge a nonexistent "rage meter."
Random player: ???
In some PvP games, top-tier players will intentionally let their HP drop to "give the opponent a chance"—an ego move, but one that Mecha World players knew well.
Jan watched helplessly as the random opponent, fired up by rage and pride, unleashed a stylish combo worthy of a highlight reel.
Vivienne's mecha took a hit and lost a chunk of HP. She panicked, fingers fumbling on the controls. The real player was way more agile than the AI—she could barely keep up, let alone counterattack. All she could do was run around dodging—
That was her perspective.
From the opponent's view, it looked like this player was just dancing around, avoiding a proper fight. Yet all their sweat, all their effort, had only managed to land one hit!
So annoying!
In frustration, he unleashed a full barrage, disregarding energy consumption.
Vivienne dodged gracefully—then rammed straight into a vine-covered wall.
Half her health gone.
Dead.
"Ah, I died!"
Vivienne said regretfully, "Game over."
Jan nodded. "That was your first real match—you did very well."
The match ended, but the other player didn't leave.
Five seconds later, a message popped up:
[Are you a bot?]
A high-end bot, maybe? Super fast reflexes, but absurdly chaotic movement?
Vivienne didn't even need to play games to know that was an insult.
The player sent another message:
[? Say something if you're not a bot.]
What, just because you ask I have to answer? No way. That's embarrassing.
Vivienne puffed up with indignation and ignored it, then asked the true master beside her: "Jan, what do you think I need to improve to beat that player?"
"Don't worry about what he said." Jan was calm as ever. "Just a bit more practice, and you'll crush him easily."
Hmm? Even Vivienne, confident as she was, found it hard to believe she could match a full-HP player after that performance.
"Be honest—how was I just now?"
Jan: "…Very impressive."
"Really?"
Jan nodded seriously. "Really impressive." Her maneuvers were beyond anything he'd anticipated.
Everyone knew Jan Squire was righteous to the point of twisted.
With a face so handsome and serious, even when telling jokes he sounded like he was solemnly upholding cosmic justice.
So Vivienne believed him.
She took another sip of perfectly sweet red tea. "Then I'll try one more round!"
…
They kept playing as they waited. One round turned into another.
By the time a knock came at the door, it was already evening.
The butler's voice came from outside: "Dinner is served."
Jan frowned slightly. "Let's wait a little longer."
Vivienne glanced at the time—6:30 PM. At this rate, if the Financial Minister really planned to join them for dinner, he ought to have arrived by now.
During their earlier talk, Vivienne had learned something important:
Jan wasn't actually into same-sex bonds.
The exact reason was still unclear—it could be teenage rebellion, or maybe father-son tensions—but Jan seemed determined to provoke his dad.
The Financial Minister—whom she'd never met—was most likely a staunch supporter of traditional hetero-pairings.
Why else would Jan put on this fake bond charade?
Minister, I respect your taste!
Vivienne started to feel nervous.
This would be her first ever "meet the parents" moment. When she'd dated Callum Charlatou, she always felt like some rebellious delinquent luring away a well-behaved mama's boy.
And her other long-term ex had been an orphan with no family…
At 7 PM, Jan had to go upstairs to handle something. Vivienne, led by the butler, went downstairs to eat.
While chatting, she learned that the entire top floor of the house was Jan's private space.
"All of it?" Vivienne was shocked. "Three game rooms, and what else?"
The butler smiled, "His bedroom, study, music room, the game rooms, and guest rooms—for when his friends need to stay over. But he rarely brings people home."
Vivienne could almost hear the butler adding: It's been a long time since he smiled like that.
"If Madam knew, she'd be delighted he made such a fine Guide friend…"
Vivienne said, "Actually, I'm a Sentinel."
The butler: "…"