Chương 34: The Dinner Queue

Meno woke to the alarm like the room had exploded. His hand slapped around the mattress, found the new phone, dropped it, cursed, then caught it against the side of the bed before it hit the floor. For one awful second, he knew exactly what he had done. He had forgotten to send Aureliana the address. His sister was going to kill him. Aureliana was going to ignore him forever, which would be deserved and still irritating.

His mother would somehow hear about it within the hour and ask whether he had tried being normal, in a voice built for disappointment. Meno opened the message thread with his stomach folding in on itself and found the address already there, sent before he fell asleep. He stared at it for three seconds, then let his head drop back onto the pillow.

"Small mercy." The alarm kept screaming. He turned it off, rolled out of bed, and stood too fast. His legs still remembered the Melrai Dunes, and his shoulders had somehow found a way to complain about VR crafting, which felt unfair. Meno stumbled into the shower and kept it quick. Hot water woke him up enough to remember he had to interact with real people, and cold water on his neck made logging back into Veyrath briefly seem reasonable. He dressed in the classic combo: clean T-shirt, hoodie, jeans.

Nobody could blame him. It was timeless. Also, everything else was dirty. The pile beside the laundry basket made Meno pause with rare adult clarity. He should order new clothes. He still had money left, almost five thousand credits after the capsule, delivery, and all the premium nonsense Past Meno had approved while drunk on credits. Shirts, pants, socks, maybe proper shoes. Not now. Starvation had priority. He grabbed the phone, checked the time, and rushed toward the door.

Lysa had better have made pasta, the one with tomato and the green plant. Basil. Probably basil. The word arrived after a few seconds, which proved his brain still worked. A steak would also be nice. The train looped around Vernova City, and Meno squeezed into a standing spot near the door as the evening crowd shifted around him. Lysa lived out near the coast suburbs, in Jonas's house. It was her house too now, technically, but Meno's brain still filed it under Jonas's place. Envy liked clean labels.

Jonas made decent money. Meno knew that and not much else. Lysa was a high school teacher. Science, officially. Everything else, whenever the school ran out of adults willing to care. The train slid out from the denser blocks, and Meno leaned against a pole while scrolling his phone. His clips had multiplied again while he slept. The one where he grabbed BrineSaint, launched him backward out of the sandworm eruption, then threw the rank-one player into the monster's mouth had already hit eleven million views.

Eleven million. Meno stared at the number until it became insulting. He was making nothing directly from most of these clips. Exposure, sure. Attention, yes. A rising channel, maybe. But other people were already repackaging his panic, captioning it, and farming engagement. It felt like being looted while alive. He opened The Meta Desk out of habit. Sera Voss and Mina Calde were mid-segment, studio-lit and composed while a graphic behind them showed guild logos arranged around the Lost Temple platform.

Meno caught enough to understand the shape of it: Crownfall blaming Highbanner for early portal movement, Stormhold accusing Silverwake of hoarding Sleepwalker sightings, HypeForge turning the whole thing into a live debate series because shamelessness scaled better than gear. Sera said, "The question now is whether the major guilds can cooperate on the Sleepwalker threat while still racing to prepare for the raid." A man nearby looked up from his phone.

"Use earphones." Meno flinched and killed the audio.

"Sorry." The man looked back at his own phone without mercy. Meno had nothing for this phone. His old wireless had died in the laundry after he forgot to take them out of his pocket. Out of boredom and poor self-preservation, he opened his WorkLink profile. 11, 000 connection requests. Meno looked at the number, sighed, and deleted the entire profile.

"That solves that." A woman across from him gave him an annoyed look, so Meno put the phone away. Outside, Vernova moved past in layers. The inner towers caught the last light of dusk, glass faces turning orange, pink, and gold before shadow climbed them from the street up. Further out, the buildings shortened and spread. Neon signs woke along rail bridges. Apartment blocks gave way to cleaner roads, lower rooftops, and the damp silver strip of sea appearing between structures whenever the train curved.

Meno watched the city instead of the screen. His brain went back to Veyrath. The weapon situation was not a problem anymore; it was the bottleneck. He had 4, 000-plus gold and a Common III dagger, which was like owning a bank account and fighting with a fork. Blacksmithing made the most sense. He wanted one Rare I sword. One. Was that too much to ask for after unlocking a world raid and opening four-kingdom portals? Apparently, yes. He almost missed his stop. Meno stepped off the train into cooler coastal air.

Vernova's tall center was behind him now, its skyscrapers burning in the last light like another city entirely. Here, the streets widened. Houses sat behind low walls and clean hedges. Some had balconies facing the water. Some had little gardens with flowers that probably required too much work. Lysa's neighborhood spread along the coastline, rich without looking like it wanted applause. Not Sorell rich. Human rich. The kind where people owned outdoor things and expected them to survive weather.

Two streets in, second house on the right near the beach. Much nicer than his apartment. These days, if he was honest, he mostly lived in his capsule anyway. A black SUV sat outside the house. Large, polished, expensive, and very clearly not part of Lysa and Jonas's life. Meno stopped mid-step and looked down at his hoodie. Definitely not great, but at least it was honest. A cyclist shot past from behind, too close, tires hissing against the road. Meno jumped sideways on instinct and tried to kick off empty air.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Real life did not honor False Wings. His foot found nothing, his hip twisted, and he landed on his ass beside the curb with both hands out. Dinner had not even started, and his dignity was already gone. The cyclist shouted something that might have been an apology or an insult. Meno stood, brushed himself off, and looked around quickly. No stream. Thank God.

The SUV's driver-side window lowered, revealing the same bodyguard from The Pearl behind the wheel, expression flat with no-nonsense silence. He had seen everything and gave no sign of it, leaving Meno to supply the humiliation himself. Then the rear door opened and Aureliana stepped out. Meno's brain dropped several inputs. She looked like she had equipped full legendary gear for a dinner where Meno was hoping for pasta.

A fitted black dress with a clean silhouette, bare shoulders, small gold drop earrings, high heels, and a thin necklace resting at her collarbone. Her blonde hair fell smooth over one shoulder, catching the last dusk light. Meno lifted one hand.

"Hey. You look—uhm. Great. Yeah. Okay. Let's go inside." Aureliana's eyes moved from his face to his hoodie, down to his jeans, then back up like she was deciding whether his outfit could be salvaged for parts.

"You got worked up after your own little speech," she said, "then decided to go throw BrineSaint into a worm. Eye-opening, Meno. I now know for certain you are hopeless." Meno grabbed the back of his hair.

"Sorry about that. I meant it, but I probably said too much."

"At least you are not backpedaling."

"That's good, right?"

"No." She turned toward the SUV and took something black from inside. It was a garment bag, folded over one arm.

"Here. Take this." Meno looked at it.

"What's this for?"

"I knew you would put zero effort into how you look, so I brought clothes myself. Don't blame poverty. I know you had money left after the capsule, but you couldn't be bothered to order a shirt for a hundred credits." Meno took the bag and frowned.

"That's fifty pizza slices." Aureliana stared at him. He grumbled, "Fine."

"Change inside the car. I will wait here."

"How did you know my size?"

"I have eyes." Her gaze dipped briefly, then came back up sharper.

"You should try focusing on mine."

"What? That's nonsense. I was looking at the bag." Her expression said the lie had failed inspection. Meno escaped into the SUV before the exchange got another phase. The interior was bigger than it had any right to be, all black leather, quiet lighting, and clean surfaces. None of that made changing clothes in it feel normal.

"Hey," Meno tried through the partition. The driver gave him nothing.

"Cool," Meno muttered.

"Strong silent route." He opened the garment bag and found rich-people clothing: a proper white shirt, leather shoes, a blazer, and jeans that looked simple until he touched the fabric and realized simple could cost money. He was about to dress business casual inside a parked SUV for his sister's pasta party. Meno changed awkwardly, banging one elbow against the door and nearly stepping on the expensive shoes. The white shirt fit too well, which made him suspicious.

The jeans sat cleanly without sagging or bunching. The blazer went on last, and the loss of hoodie weight hit him immediately: soft armor gone, pockets untrustworthy, nowhere to shove his hands and pretend not to exist. He felt like a prop placed in a room by someone else's decorator. When he stepped out, Aureliana looked him up and down.

"Much better." Meno tugged at the blazer hem.

"I feel like I'm going to be asked about wine."

"What do you know about wine?"

"It's mostly red." She ignored him.

"Okay," he said.

"Let's enter. I'm starving." He started toward the door. Aureliana's voice snapped behind him.

"You have to lead me to the door." Meno turned back, confused.

"What? You can walk, can't you?" She stayed beside the SUV, not moving, and looked at him like he had missed something obvious on purpose. He looked at the house, then her, then the bodyguard, who had somehow become even more silent.

"Okay. Fine." Meno walked back and stopped beside her.

"What do I do?" Aureliana closed her eyes for one second.

"Put your hand around my elbow and lead me to the door. Then knock."

"Right. Normal human mechanic." He offered his arm badly. She adjusted it with one small, irritated movement, placing her hand at his elbow like she had done this a thousand times and he had been patched into etiquette five minutes ago. Meno led her toward the house at a speed too slow to be natural and too fast to be graceful.

"This is weird," he whispered. She squeezed his arm once, warning pressure. Meno knocked, and Lysa opened the door with warm house light spilling around her, dark brown hair brushing a copper sweater. Jonas stood beside her in a matching one, light brown beard neat, short hair tidy, calm enough to let other people speak first. Lysa looked Meno up and down.

"Meno? Is that you?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Hey. Do not start." Meno tried to pull Aureliana inside before the doorway could flag for PvP, but she stopped dead.

"You have to introduce us." This raid boss had many phases. Meno turned back with the stiff patience required for handling cursed objects.

"This is my sister, Lysa, and this is Jonas, her husband. Hello, Jonas. Sis, this is Aurelia, I mean Aureliana. She likes bows." Aureliana's expression became ugly for half a second. Jonas looked interested.

"Bows?"

"Never mind him," Aureliana said smoothly.

"It's nice to meet you, Lysa. Jonas." She offered her hand. Jonas shook it first, then Lysa. Lysa's face brightened.

"Oh, your nails are amazing." Meno released Aureliana's arm instantly and walked inside, refusing to hear one more word about nails. The living room opened into a warm space with a large table, an open kitchen, and a glass wall overlooking the darkening ocean. The house smelled like tomato sauce, warm bread, garlic, and something green enough that his stomach tried to applaud. He looked around.

"Where is everyone else?" Jonas closed the front door, then followed Meno in. Aureliana and Lysa had already fallen into a conversation near the entry like civilized people.

"Are you okay, Meno?" Jonas asked. Meno glanced at him.

"Not really. I'm starving." Jonas reached to the side table, picked up an opened beer can, and pushed it gently against Meno's forehead. Meno took it. Jonas gestured toward the sofa.

"Sit." Meno sat. Jonas took the chair opposite him, elbows resting on his knees, that therapist posture already loading. Meno drank half the beer in one pull because if this was going to be a session, he wanted buffs.

"There isn't anyone else coming, right?" Meno asked.

"That was bait from my sister so I'd feel more comfortable accepting." Jonas smiled faintly.

"Your sister means well. She worries about you."

"Everything is better than ever before. There really isn't anything to worry about."

"When was the last time you ate?" Meno looked toward the kitchen.

"I don't know. Maybe a day ago. But it was a lot. Steak-burger at The Pearl. Nice. Big. Juicy."

"And you think that is fine?"

"I think it was expensive and free for me, so yes." Jonas did not laugh in the way Meno wanted. He leaned back, still gentle, still impossible to dodge.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But maybe take a break and order food once in a while. Take a walk. Something outside the capsule."

"I will try." Meno turned the beer can in his hand, reading the label without seeing it.

"But it's not like I can log out at any moment. If I take a break, I lose a ton of viewers."

"If they are worth anything, they will come back after your break."

"Maybe." The answer sounded smaller than he wanted. In Veyrath, numbers behaved badly but clearly. HP down, move. Sword red, repair. Chain broken, restart. Viewers refused to be honest. He could do the right thing and watch them leave. He could do the wrong thing and watch them climb. The platform paid later, maybe, if average watch time, ad terms, affiliate rates, and whatever else decided he was worth more than six credits. Jonas watched him like he had heard all of that without Meno saying it.

"That pressure can make you feel like stopping is failure," Jonas said. Meno took another drink.

"It is failure if others don't stop."

"And you have to stay above them."

"Yes."

"Why?" Meno looked at him, thrown by the fact that it needed explaining.

"Because rank one means viewers. Viewers mean money. Money means I can stop being the guy everyone worries about." Jonas did not answer immediately. In the kitchen, Lysa laughed at something Aureliana said, a real laugh, not polite. Meno looked over before he could stop himself and saw Aureliana near the counter, shoulders relaxed by maybe five percent, gold earrings catching the light as she spoke with one hand lifted. She fit in wrong, but somehow easily. Too expensive for the room, but not uncomfortable in it.

That annoyed him too. Jonas followed his glance, then looked back at him.

"That is a lot to put on a leaderboard." Meno finished the beer and set the can down.

"There is going to be food, right? Or was that also a lie?" Jonas stood, accepting the dodge without calling it one.

"Food is ready. Give me a second." He went into the kitchen, and Meno turned toward the glass wall. Outside, the beach was almost dark. The last of the sky held a deep orange line over the water, with the sea moving in slow, black-blue bands beyond the house lights. He could see reflections in the glass: himself in the white shirt and blazer, too sharp around the edges; Lysa moving through the kitchen; Aureliana beside her; Jonas pulling something from the oven.

Meno looked like someone attending a life he had not queued for. Unfortunately, Jonas had been right. He needed food, sleep, and breaks on purpose. Not random crashes between bans, maintenance, and public disasters. BrineSaint had that wife buff. She had built the machine around him. Maybe he should ask BrineSaint's wife for tips. The thought was so strange that he almost laughed. Would BrineSaint even allow that? Did rank-one schedule wives take questions from rival streamers who threw their husbands into worms?

Meno watched Aureliana laugh quietly at something Lysa said, then look over as if she had sensed him watching. He turned back to the ocean. Yeah. Probably too weird.