Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

The girl’s pulse steadied slightly when she realized she was alone. What’s more, the room didn’t feel like a prison—there were no bruising chains binding her limbs. Instead, she found herself wrapped in soft sheets. And opposed to the damp walls and oppressive darkness of a cell, the quiet, clean space around her was warm and soothing.

In contrast to her fears, the room was a bright and airy haven, bathed in natural sunlight that streamed in through the windows. The girl’s gaze captured the floral patterns adorning the bedding and curtains as she glanced around, giving the space a girly charm, while soft pastel tones added a comforting warmth. Delicate decorations, like framed paintings, hanging trinkets, and plush toys, created a cozy, lived-in feel.

This was the first time she had ever slept in such a calm and peaceful place. The sensation was unfamiliar, almost indescribable—surreal and heartwarming all at once. Yet, the longer she lingered on the thought, the more doubt crept in. It was clear that this level of comfort couldn’t possibly be meant for her. Surely, she was intruding on someone else’s sanctuary.

The girl knew that until she fully understood her circumstances, the tension coiling in her chest would refuse to ease, leaving her unsettled despite the warmth around her.

With as little noise as possible, she eased the sheets aside and shifted her weight toward the edge of the bed. Her eyes darted nervously around the room as she swung her legs over, lowering one foot and then the other. Her toes met the cool wooden floor, and she let out a muted sigh of relief when the boards didn’t betray her with a creak.

Step by cautious step, she moved toward the door, her heart climbing into her throat with every inch of progress. From her experience, tragedy always struck when it was least expected. What if this plush, inviting room was nothing more than a cruel illusion—a trap designed to lull her into a false sense of security? What if the moment her guard slipped—

CREAKK~

The door opened to a slight ajar as she tentatively peeked outside.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” came the soft remark of a man seated at the dining room table. His back was turned, shoulders hunched as he methodically ground a mixture of ingredients into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

Meanwhile, a woman stood by a medieval stovetop, deftly plating freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and sausages. “No need to be shy, sweetie,” she said warmly, carrying the steaming dishes over to the table. Her tone shifted as she turned to the man. “And you, dear—how many times have I told you? No pharmaceutical work at the dining table. You know better.”

The man raised his hands in surrender, pushing the utensils aside with a sheepish grin. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” he chimed playfully before turning his attention to the little girl who was still hiding behind the door. “You know,” he began with a coaxing smile, “bacon’s best when it’s hot. Don’t miss out on a life-changing experience. Lefahne’s cooking is nothing short of legendary!”

“Oh, you flatterer,” the woman muttered, her cheeks glowing at the praise as she set a basket of freshly baked rolls in the center of the table. Her warm smile lingered as she turned to their timid guest. “You need to take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Your body’s been through a lot—it’s no wonder you fainted yesterday. A good meal will help you heal.”

Before the little girl could press her lips together in defiance, her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly enough to echo through the room. The sound might as well have been a trumpet announcing her desperation, and her face turned a vivid shade of pink in embarrassment. Yet, the gnawing ache in her belly refused to let her dwell on such feelings.

As if being pulled by an invisible thread, she took a tentative step toward the table, her gaze locked on the food. Each step felt heavy, her instincts battling the remnants of her fear. Still, logic whispered softly, soothing her frayed nerves. If these people had meant her harm, surely they would’ve acted while she was unconscious. The fact that they hadn’t spoke volumes.

As the girl took her seat at the table, she stole a glance upward from beneath her lashes at the couple. It was clear they were doing their best not to stare, likely to spare her the discomfort of feeling observed. But their efforts were in vain. The moment the aroma of the food reached her nostrils, her eyes drifted downward, completely captivated by the steaming plate before her.

Her hand moved with urgency, trembling with hunger as she reached for the utensil. But then she froze, the weight of the moment catching up with her. A single tear, silent and heavy, traced the curve of her cheek as she slowly took the first bite.

“…Delicious,” she uttered without thinking.

Lefahne and her husband shared a tender smile before she turned her gaze back to the emotional child. “Help yourself to as much as you need,” she encouraged warmly, a rosy flush gracing her cheeks at the compliment. “There’s more than enough to go around.”

Flustered, the girl hastily wiped at her tears, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She kept her eyes lowered, meekly focusing on the food in front of her. Then she slowly continued to eat, each bite quieter than the last.

“Since we’re all sharing a meal together,” the man said with a friendly smile, “it seems only right to introduce ourselves. I’m Zurrel, and this is my wife, Lefahne. What’s your name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The little girl pursed her lips uncomfortably.

“…It doesn’t have to be your real name,” Lefahne said gently, placing a warm roll onto her plate. “It can be an alias—just something to make it easier for us to address one another.”

The girl hesitated, her gaze lingering on the wooden fork between her fingers, unsure how to respond. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for their kindness. After a moment of silence, she parted her lips and, in a near-whisper, uttered, “Fay…”

“Fay?” Lefahne echoed gleefully, glancing at her husband with a look of relief before turning back to the child. “Such a beautiful name. I like it very much.”

At the woman’s kind words, the little girl tilted her head slightly.

“…Fay,” Lefahne continued in a hushed tone, which reflected the sensitivity of her next question. “Do you… have a family? Or a place to call home?”

Fay’s eyes dropped to her plate, a heavy silence settling over her. The sorrow etched on her face answered the question far more clearly than words ever could.

Zurrel and Lefahne exchanged a brief, concerned gaze before the woman turned to the girl once more. “Fay, we won’t press you with any more questions. If you have nowhere else to go, you’re more than welcome to stay here with us.”

Noticing the confusion beginning to dawn on the girl’s face, Lefahne quickly added, “We don’t expect anything in return,” her voice was sincere. “It’s simply the right thing to do. That’s all there is to it.”

Fay’s eyes widened, her heart caught between disbelief and cautious hope as she gazed up at the couple’s warm smiles. They were so genuine, so kind, that for a moment, she questioned the weight of the curse she had long believed defined her existence.

Was it possible that her misfortune had merely been a figment of her own mind? A product of her isolation and fear? The thought flickered like a fragile spark of hope. Maybe this wasn’t just another cruel trick; maybe, just maybe, this was her chance—a chance to step away from the shadow of her past and find something better, something real.

***

The northern outer circle of the kingdom was a place where the elements had a firm grasp on life. The bitter winds and irregular snowfall made it a quieter, more isolated area with only a sparse population braving the unforgiving environment.

Yet, the people here were tough and resourceful. The farmlands were dominated by hardy collard greens such as cabbages, spinach, and beans—crops that could endure the colder climate. Even the tranquilids had adapted, their slow metabolism conserving energy during the harsher months while their thick fur and wool provided the warmth they needed to survive.

In this remote region, Fay frolicked along the beaten path of the village, her face lit by a serene smile. Her gaze wandered to the lofty snow-capped mountains in the distance, their majestic peaks standing proudly against the endless expanse of the blue sky. For once, in this peaceful, isolated place, she felt like she might belong.

“Fay!” yelled a small boy as she began traversing a narrow stone bridge. “What gives? All hands on deck today—isn’t that what we agreed?!”

Fay paused, peering down at the riverbank where he was launching a tiny boat crafted from wood and hay down the stream. “Peet, don’t you think it’s a bit too chilly today for that?”

The boy struck a dramatic pose, his gaze sweeping over the distant horizon with a sense of purpose and duty. “What’re you saying? No matter the weather, the rescue mission for the fishermen lost at sea can’t wait. Think about their families—how worried they must be.”

A silence lingered in the air.

Peet cracked open one eye and glanced up at the bridge. “…Um. Fay?”

“Sorry, Peet, maybe next time,” she called out with a sheepish grin, not pausing in her stride. “I have important errands to run right now. I’m sure the fishermen will be fine.”

“F-Fay! Wait! Think about the poor children who’ll go hungry and grow up without their fathers!” the boy pleaded desperately, but his words fell on deaf ears.

In the distance, a crow’s caw echoed.

“…Well, Captain Peet,” she muttered, a dry chuckle escaping him, “I guess the fate of these men rests solely in your hands now.”