I went into the rest of the house for the first time since arriving, determined to actually do the thing I came here for. The rest of the place looked like an AirBNB waiting for a guest to arrive. Did he actually live here? Except for a basket full of mail in front of the mail slot, and I guess I could take the trash out. I sat down at the kitchen table, and started sorting through the mail.

  “Ay…hola,” came a voice from the door. A heavyset woman in her forties or fifties was pulling a key attached to a giant keyring out of the door, surprised to find it was unlocked I guess. “Lo siento. Me llamo Lucina…”

  I cut her off with an apologetic wince and hand gesture, then pulled up a translator app. I took nine years of Spanish between grade school and high school, but couldn’t string two words together. To be fair, most of my Spanish teachers didn’t speak Spanish either.

  Turned out Lucina came every other Saturday to clean. She looked sad to hear Al passed when I told her, which made me like her already. She showed me the mail he had instructed her to set aside for him, and a box in the closet with bundles of unopened mail that he hadn’t found important. I had her clean, one last time, even though it didn’t look like it needed it.

  I settled up with her financially while she was still getting started, and took her phone number. She looked a little guilty when she told me how much she was owed, I guess because Uncle Al paid her too much? This tiny unlived house certainly isn’t a full day's work. Good for her. Sorry to see her lose a customer.

  Once that was taken care of, I let her get back to her last day of cleaning. She said she would leave the keys, and show herself out when she was done. Of the important mail, there was a letter from Uncle Al’s retirement, and one from a lawyer.

  It looked like the lawyer managed all of his financial affairs. This should make things easy. Maybe he even has a will. I called, and left a voicemail.

  The cleaner was cleaning, and I certainly didn’t want to spin my wheels doing anything an actual lawyer had already done. I texted Dad about the lawyer, and that I’d try to see him on Monday. Also that I was making sure the house was clean, without mentioning who was really doing the cleaning.

  I cleverly decided not to mention Uncle Al’s doomsday device. I looked at the big red button, and shuddered at the idea of telling him any of this. When did I decide to go back to the basement? I tried to resist, I really did.

  I found myself on an uncomfortable hay mattress. Why twist my guts into pretzels? It wasn’t like I could leave the perfect game unplayed; another universe unexplored. Maybe I can discover something, and make the world a better place, or something.

  But what if there’s some way I could destroy our world? It didn’t seem to work that way, but even if there’s a 1% chance, isn’t this the most insane thing I’ve ever done? Or if its mere existence exposes the fact that our world is digital. I didn't care about that, but some people sure would… Uncle Al sure did.

  Thankfully a grumble coming from my stomach derailed my existential spiral. “Good morning…Uh. Good morning,” I started again, realizing too late that I didn’t remember the bartender’s name.

  The bartender stopped what he was doing, and gave me a smile, “The name’s Gorg. It’s okay to ask, ya know. I’m the only half orc in a hundred miles. These are my conversation starters,” he laughed, pointing to his tusks.

  I laughed too, but more out of crippling social anxiety than his jokes. Fortunately he just assumed I had stumbled over my words because I was a racist instead of the terrible name-forgetter that I really was. I was glad he was so easygoing. Kind of hard to hear though. His words were loud and clear, but the timbre was so low.

  “Nice to meet you too. I’m Gus,” I said, trying to quiet my annoying brain.

  I gave him my real name out of habit. Shoot! Should I have used my gamer tag? No, that would sound silly in this fantasy environment. Gus it is.

  “Huh. Never met a human named Gus before. Sounds more like an Orc name.”

  “It’s short for Angus, but don’t tell anyone. I’m way too scrawny to pull off Angus.”

  “Naw, that’s just ’cause you’re…,” he paused. His mouth started to gape. “How’d ya make it to fifteen, and still be at level zero? You gotta be using some kind of [Bard] magic, to obscure yer levels.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I completely forgot I was younger here, but it looks like I have bigger problems. Did he do some kind of identification spell on me? He knows I’m different. Will they burn me as a witch?

  What happens if I die here? He was still staring, expecting an answer. Say something! “Um…” Something else! “Remember yesterday when I asked if you ever see people who are not aware of the local customs?” That was good. Play it cool.

  He nodded, still holding the mug he had been cleaning; holding it, but not cleaning it.

  “Well…,” I continued, “I’m not from around here. I’m from another place… entirely.”

  He leaned over, bending down so our eyes were at the same level. After a long awkward moment, he poked me with two fingers. I managed to stay on my feet, barely, and looked like an idiot for the effort.

  He laughed again, “Whatever ya are, at least I know what yer not. Well, this is really none of my business, but it is the mayor’s. Ya need to talk to him.” I nodded and started for the door. “After breakfast,” he said, like I was an idiot for forgetting the most important meal of the day.

  Breakfast was the most delicious oatmeal I’d ever tasted, after I explained to Gorg that I don’t eat animals. He gave me a strange look, but didn’t argue. Over breakfast he explained that in this world everyone can earn a maximum of 100 levels, and that each level was earned in one of ten classes. The first level in any class was the easiest, taking minutes, and the last was the hardest, taking years.

  That was why no one made it to my age without any levels. Kids earned a few levels in this and that just by playing with each other. “So, that means no one has ever made it to level 100 in any specific class?”

  “Right.”

  “What would happen?”

  “It’s never happened, far’s I know,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Something good though. Ya get special stuff for big round numbers.”

  My gamer sense was starting to tingle. Is my lack of a childhood in this world a unique advantage? I had a million more questions, but we were interrupted by the sort lamplighter I saw on my way into town.

  “I hope this is important. If my wife sees me in here she’ll think I’m having a drink during the workday. Or worse… second breakfast. Either way, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “This is Gus, a traveler from another plane,” Gorg informed him. “Now I’ve done my part. If you let him conquer all a the mortal planes, it’s on you. Gus, this is Edion, the mayor.”

  The mayor looked at me, back to Gorg, then back at me again. “You wouldn’t conquer someone else’s plane, would you now?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

  Gorg didn’t look up from his work behind the bar, but he did raise an eyebrow. “Give him a Scry.”

  Edion’s eyes got a little bigger. Is Scry some really common spell? If they could see my level, they knew more about me than I did. “No sir, I do find myself here from another plane, but I have no intention of harming anyone.”

  The formerly jolly man smiled again, but it no longer reached his eyes. “Come with me, my boy. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

  I paid for breakfast, and let him escort me to the only three-story building in town. The first story was mostly open except for rough cut benches, with the emptiness stretching upward. Most of the center of the building was open all the way to the sky. The openings on the second and third floors were ringed by a simple railing. Climbing the stairs, he led me past a scattering of desks on the second floor before finally reaching the third.

  The outer walls of the third floor were lined with bookshelves, and had additional rows of freestanding bookshelves at regular intervals. This was a surprisingly big library for a small fantasy town. There were a couple of the rough cut benches near the railing that overlooked the lower levels. Which made sense, as that was the most well lit place to read, this floor having no windows on its exterior.

  “Amaya,” the mayor called. “Amaya, dear,” he called again, when he didn’t get a response.

  A small woman, almost a girl, came out from behind a bookshelf, sounding a little placating. “Yes, Mister Mayor? How can I help you?”

  It was hard not to focus on the girl’s cat ears. Or, woman? She wore an expensive-looking velvet suit, minus the jacket, accented by a lace cravat and matching cuffs. Her asian features contrasted with white hair that seamlessly blended into those nekomimi ears standing alert to either side. Like the mayor, she had a mask on her hip, her’s made of porcelain. Notably, she was the first person I’d encountered in this world wearing glasses.

  “This won’t be like the last time, dear,” he said with a smile, gesturing to the sconces filled with candles around the room. Dozens ignited simultaneously, and began to glow with a flame that was a little too white. “Gus here is a visitor from another plane.”

  She absentmindedly closed the book she had been reading and looked up at me for the first time, appraising me for several moments. Her eyes kept returning to my bare feet making me feel a little embarrassed. “Surely this is the reason Caelum sent us a Pioneer in this hour,” he continued.

  “The Guild sent you a Guild Pioneer,” she interrupted, eyes still on me. She gave Edion an apologetic smile before turning her gaze back to me. “What plane do you hail from?” she asked, interrupting my growing concerns of burning to death in a windowless library full of candles and only one exit.

  I’m totally getting cute anime girl vibes.