The Search to Fill the Void

Both friends—mainly Mario—helped carry the few belongings Rian had barely used during their single night in that room. Afterward, they headed to the container yard, where the rest of Rian’s things were stored in a small warehouse. The boxes barely took up a fifth of the space they had rented for an entire month, and they were now emptying in less than 24 hours. Of course, there were no refunds, which made Rian sigh.

The move ended without trouble after canceling all contracts, including at work. Just as Rian suspected, their mother found out they had been discharged from the hospital and showed up, making a scene and demanding the payment that had just been deposited, supposedly to cover “hospital expenses.” Unfortunately, this happened during a visit from the regional manager. Adding to the fact that Rian had been unreachable for two days and previous incidents caused by their mother at the same workplace, it was decided that they would be dismissed. The branch manager knew it was unfair, but his hands were tied after an audit during Rian’s absence. Rian’s performance had worsened steadily as their mother’s presence became increasingly suffocating.

“Listen, I know this feels unfair. But don’t worry—if you need a new job, I can help. Use my personal number as a work reference, and I’ll write you a recommendation letter now. Think of this as a chance to reach higher,” he said, gently placing a hand on Rian’s shoulder. “Your salary has already been sent, and your severance pay should arrive in a few days.”

Rian didn’t know what to say. They hadn’t expected such a kind farewell after all the trouble they’d experienced at the restaurant, where they often avoided the front counter out of fear of dealing with customers.

Their coworkers came to say goodbye and, as a farewell gift, offered to pay for anything Rian wanted from the menu. Without hesitation, Hannah suggested they stay for dinner.

“I don’t get how you can still eat more, being so small,” Rian said, a hint of joy in their voice.

“It’s a black hole. Believe me, I fed that monster for a whole year,” Mario added, staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t you know good things come in small packages? Like perfume, you miser,” Hannah snapped, offended.

“So does poison,” Rian added, prompting them to gang up on them.

As Rian received playful pokes from their adorable friend and Mario slid the chair out of reach, they realized that little by little, they were starting to taste something people often call happiness. At the very least, it felt like peace.

They ate until they were stuffed. Rian didn’t even remember how they got to the new apartment. They woke up on the sofa bed, nestled between the two. Mario, towering and broad, had probably lost all feeling in his arm after using it as a pillow, while Hannah—barely over five feet tall without her platform sandals—had wrapped around Rian like a blanket.

Had they fainted? But could coffee make you faint? Slowly, they remembered the number of Irish coffees and carajillos brought to the table after dinner. A sudden burp confirmed it—coffee, whiskey, and spicy boneless wings don’t mix.

“I need to run,” they whispered with a mix of panic and nausea.

Carefully freeing themself from the others without waking them, Rian managed a clean escape to the bathroom to throw up.

The clock showed it was nearly ten in the morning on a Saturday. No rush to get to class. Rian let their friends sleep a bit longer… but not before flooding their new group chat with pictures of all three cuddling on the couch. Rian smirked as they hit send.

The apartment was a loft inside a repurposed industrial complex converted into residential spaces. Its proximity to the university made it perfect for out-of-town students. Rian never imagined they’d live in a place like that. Between Hannah’s wealthy family—who allowed her to study Hospitality as long as she also took Business Administration to inherit the family business—and Mario, whose father paid for his Culinary Arts degree as long as he didn’t have to give him anything else, Rian’s lack of family support stood out sharply. But at last, they had broken free from that chain.

To start their new life, they wanted to do something for their friends. They decided to make brunch—and if there was one thing life had taught Rian, it was how to work miracles with leftovers. A bit of beans, half a lettuce, four eggs, a few slices of bread, and an almost-empty jar of tomato purée became a healthy brunch for three.

Sitting with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, Rian remembered their original intention to leave their previous home. They grabbed their phone, which had been charging in the kitchen corner, and opened the app. The first screen prompted them to log in with a LUDOVOID account. After setting the language preferences, the screen turned white, and the player’s point of view lowered to meet the first character: Vergil, clearly a doctor.

“Welcome to Golden Moon, and thank you for supporting the Epitome project. Do you know what it’s about?”

[ I have no idea ] [ Sounds familiar ] [ Yes, I know what it’s about ]

Rian sighed. The options revealed that this would be a multiple-choice game with prewritten questions and responses. A part of them felt disappointed—but also relieved. No need to type; just tap. They selected the first option for the full tutorial.

“I see. No worries. I’m here to guide you,” said the character with a gentle smile behind rectangular glasses. “Golden Moon is an electronics company looking to move beyond household gadgets into new markets,” he continued, picking up a brochure from a side table and offering it to the player, who could scroll through it with a swipe while Vergil kept talking. “Right now, we’re focusing on a virtual reality machine designed to help people with anxiety or PTSD—and also those dealing with daily stress. What do you think?”

[ Sounds noble ] [ I think it’s cool ] [ Seems unrealistic ]

Rian nearly choked on their toast, reading the options. They were so essential, so robotic, it was hilarious. Still, they chose the second one.

“I’m glad you like it. The development team has spent nearly three years on this. With medical supervision, we’re now in the final phase, running tests with volunteers to ensure the simulations work. So, tell me: what made you want to participate?”

[ I have PTSD ] [ I have anxiety ] [ Both ] [ I signed up out of curiosity ]

Rian almost spit out their coffee at the last option—it hit close to home. But then they remembered the game’s warning: it wasn’t actual therapy. They hesitated for a second, then chose the third option.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But don’t worry—we’re here to help you overcome it. And if all goes well, your participation might benefit millions. Thank you.”

The screen flashed light blue for a brief second. So fast, Rian wasn’t sure what just happened.

“I guess that’s how you raise affinity. And Vergil must be the light blue one,” they muttered, setting down the cup.

“Let’s continue. I’m going to ask you some questions. Please answer honestly,” Vergil said, maintaining a calm tone.

“How often do you feel nervous, anxious, or on the verge of a panic attack?”

[ Several times a day ] [ At least once a day ] [ Often ] [ Occasionally ]

Rian chose the second option.

“Do you have constant negative thoughts about the future or bad things that might happen?”

[ Yes ] [ Sometimes ] [Rarely] [ No ]

Again, they picked the second.

“Do you struggle to relax or feel constant tension in your body?”

“Yes.”

“Does your anxiety interfere with daily activities (work, school, relationships)?”

“Yes.”

“Do you experience physical symptoms like palpitations, sweating, tremors, or nausea?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you avoid certain situations for fear of anxiety?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you have panic attacks or sudden, intense fear?”

“Rarely.”

“I understand. Now, let’s talk about your traumatic event. Have you ever experienced something that made you fear for your life or safety?”

Many moments came to mind, but the most recent dominated. Rian tapped “Yes.”

“Do you have intrusive memories or nightmares related to the event?”

They hesitated briefly, then answered, “No.”

“Do you feel emotional distress or physical reactions when reminded of the trauma?”

“Sometimes,” they said, recalling how their hands used to shake when dealing with specific customers.

“Do you avoid places, people, or activities that remind you of the event?”

“Yes.”

“Do you struggle to remember important parts of the event?”

“No,” they replied, though they briefly wondered if they should’ve said otherwise—after all, they had woken up in a hospital.

The questionnaire continued, starting to feel more like a personality test.

“Thank you for your answers. We’ll keep checking in as the tests progress,” Vergil said, offering a hand from the screen.

[ Shake his hand ] [ Step back ] [ Refuse ] [ Reject him ]

“Actions are also choices,” Rian mumbled, selecting to shake his hand. They were surprised it didn’t trigger a warmth or affection response.

“Let me take you to the room where the other beta testers—your companions in these trials—are waiting,” Vergil offered.

However, upon reaching the first hallway intersection, new options appeared:

[ Follow him ] [ Take a detour ] [ Return to the office ] [ Look for the exit ]