When I woke up on Earth, in my bed, I was happy. But… “Don’t think you can escape me that easily,” a voice said; directly above my head.

  “Huh?!” I jerked upright, eyes wide. Floating upside down above my bed, glowing faint blue in the dark, was Cloudy.

  “…What?” I managed, still half-asleep, half-terrified. “Why are you here?”

  Cloudy floated in lazy circles above my head, his pastel-pink glasses glinting like smug little halos. “I’m here because we need to talk,” he said in that calm, singsong tone that always preceded poor life decisions.

  I groaned and buried myself under the blanket, pressing a pillow over my face like it could ward off divine bureaucracy. “I don’t want to,” I mumbled into the cotton. “Every time you say that, it’s bad news. Every. Time.”

  For a few blessed seconds, silence.

  Then…pop!

  A puff of cool air brushed my cheek. I peeked out just enough to see a fluffy intruder drift under the pillow, wiggling his way into my supposed sanctuary. “No—out!” I swung the pillow in retaliation, smacking Cloudy square in his ridiculous fluff. He bounced backward with a startled “pff,” but recovered instantly, circling back like a cat convinced the bed was actually his.

  “We have a lot to discuss,” he intoned, perfectly unbothered.

  “Yeah?” I sat up, hair sticking out in directions not covered by any known physics. “Let’s start with why you’re in my room instead of, I don’t know, doing cloud things.”

  “Exactly,” he said, drifting closer, those pink glasses catching the light. “I had to… merge your bodies. Technically, your Earth one’s gone.”

  My brain took a full three seconds to process that sentence. “What?!”

  I looked down. Right—Rimelion clothes, including heels. Not pajamas. Not Earth. “Where are my—”

  Then I saw them. A neat pile on the floor beside the bed: hoodie, jeans, the whole civilian package. Socks tossed over like a half-hearted farewell. With a reflex I didn’t know I had, I kicked one foot down, flicking a rogue pair of panties under the bed like that solved anything.

  Cloudy blinked; or whatever passed for blinking when your face was a drawn-on smile. “Charlie, you do realize I see everything the system sees?” His tone was way too pleased with itself.

  I froze, then crossed my arms, cheeks heating despite myself. “So what?” I muttered, chin up, full elf-pout engaged with eyes closed. “You shouldn’t be looking anyway.”

  He tilted in midair, amusement practically dripping from his fluffy edges. “Aren’t you even a little concerned about your body? Or, you know, why I did that?”

  I cracked one eye open. “You’ll tell me even if I say no.”

  Cloudy gave a smug little spin. “Previously, I separated your bodies because you didn’t have a class. Now you have a 6-marvel, soon-to-be 7-legendary one.”

  I nodded, grinning proudly. “Exactly! So what’s the problem? That’s called progress, Cloudy.”

  He drifted closer, pink glasses catching a glint of light. “Your body is interacting with reality differently now,” he said, his voice losing the usual sing-song lilt. “It’s… grounding you in a way that is uniquely you.”

  That pause. The kind of pause where you know the next line’s going to ruin your whiskey time. “So… I exist more hard?” I asked, brow furrowed.

  Cloudy’s doodled smile straightened into something vaguely serious. “I’ve been preparing for this moment. I built entire protocols, rules, to contain what you could do with that.”

  I flopped back onto the bed, letting the sheets swallow me whole. “I’m hearing a ‘but.’”

  “But,” Cloudy said, spinning once for emphasis, “you proved you can exploit my systems easily.”

  I grinned into my pillow, hugging it like a trophy. “Yeah, exploits are easy. Anyone could do it. Shouldn’t your almighty system be, I don’t know, fool-proof?”

  He made a sound that could only be described as a disappointed breeze. “I don’t want to waste more resources. So, I’ll allow you to travel between realms in your body. But if you exploit it—say, vanish mid-fight or otherwise cheat causality—I’ll revoke the ability permanently. You’ll be locked to one realm. If I judge you go against the spirit of the skill.”

  I bit my lip, half amused, half horrified. “You’re asking me nicely not to exploit something? Using phrases like spirit of the skill? Wow. And here I thought you ran a hard magic system.”

  Cloudy’s drawn eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “We can negotiate when you break things. If I limit you, you push the barrier. We’ve already established that.”

  I exhaled, flopping the pillow over my face again. “So this is what divine trust looks like. A half-threat wrapped in legalese.”

  He bobbed closer, his pastel outline flickering in the dim light. “It’s called learning from experience. You’ve burned through enough of mine.”

  “Aw,” I muttered, voice muffled through the pillow, “you’re saying you care.”

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  “Statistically unlikely,” Cloudy replied, deadpan.

  At that moment, the door slammed open.

  “Lady!” Lola’s voice cut through the room like a reprimand wrapped in caffeine. “Don’t lounge in bed! You can’t avoid—”

  She stopped mid-sentence. Blinked once. Then again. “...Cloudy?”

  “Yep.” I didn’t even bother sitting up, just hugged my pillow tighter. “Apparently I exist too hard for him to handle me.”

  “That’s an incorrect interpretation of what I said,” Cloudy protested, spinning indignantly in midair.

  I grinned at Lola. She stood frozen in the doorway like an overloaded spreadsheet: black pencil skirt, white shirt, jacket perfectly pressed, holo-tablet in hand. Her brown hair framed her face in soft waves that didn’t match her current expression of 404: reality not found.

  Because she looked seconds away from blue-screening, I pushed myself up, caught her wrist, and tugged. “Wha—!”

  She squeaked—an actual squeak—as she stumbled forward and crashed onto the bed with me. We landed in a heap of limbs and confusion; the pillow exiled somewhere on the floor.

  “B-b-but you’re wearing your cosplay!” she stammered, blinking furiously.

  Her hair fell into my face like a curtain of warm static. I brushed it aside, trying not to laugh. “It’s the real deal,” I said, voice low and teasing. “Apparently I’m divine enough to count as a relic now.”

  Then I turned toward Cloudy, who was pretending not to notice any of this. “Wait; does that mean I’m radiating mana like one of those Gaia artifacts?”

  “Yes,” he replied cheerfully. “Earth is slowly increasing its ambient mana levels, and you contribute to that phenomenon.”

  He said it like reading patch notes, completely oblivious to the fact that Lola was currently lying half on top of me, cheeks red enough to trigger a fire warning.

  Her eyes met mine, just a few centimeters apart.

  She froze.

  I couldn’t resist. I winked, then rolled onto my back, dragging her with me. I lifted a hand and tried to form a spark of frost, something showy and dignified. What I got was… slightly colder air. It drifted down over us like lazy snow that couldn’t commit.

  Lola yelped and shivered, laughter spilling out of her before she could stop it. “It’s—it’s real,” she whispered, voice soft, almost reverent. “I knew Rimelion was real, but…”

  I propped myself up on one elbow, grinning. “Were you doubting me?”

  She kept staring at the fading frost above us, expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. Then, still lying on her back, she nodded slowly. “I don’t know. Probably.” Her voice dropped. “But this… this feels impossible.”

  “Technically, it is impossible,” Cloudy said, tone brimming with smug pride. “But I overrode a few systems preventing it. My aim is also to increase my presence on Earth. Anywhere there is mana… there am I.”

  “You should talk to Pearl,” I muttered, flopping onto my side. “She’s a competent hacker.” Then, realizing Lola was watching me from the corner of her eye like I’d just sprouted a halo, I added, “But anyway, is that all, oh mighty cloud?”

  Cloudy drifted closer, humming faintly. That was my cue to grab the blanket and dive under it; my last line of defense since the pillow had defected to the floor.

  This time, I wasn’t alone. I dragged Lola with me. “Psst!” I whispered, finger to my lips.

  She stared at me in the dim blanket-fort light; her face was very close, eyes wide. “Lady,” she whispered back cautiously, “you’re acting… strange. Laid back. Or perhaps a bit crazy?”

  “Coping mechanism,” I said flatly. “I clown around so I don’t have to think about the fact that I exist very hard now.”

  A beat of silence. I could feel Cloudy judging us through the blanket. “That was not even the first point,” he said finally, voice muffled but still annoyingly chipper. “May I have a word with you, Jerry?”

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  Jerry.

  I’d forgotten about Jerry.

  I peeked out from under the blanket, guilt creeping in. “...What’s your concern?” came Jerry’s voice from the overhead speakers, smooth and neutral as ever.

  “I can provide you with a body,” Cloudy said matter-of-factly, “provided you choose which realm to exist in. Your dreams can be real.”

  I gasped and threw the blanket aside. “For realz?!” I shouted, sitting up so fast Lola nearly fell off the bed. “That’s fantastic, Jerry!”

  “It is,” Jerry began evenly, “but if I simply wanted a body—”

  Cloudy floated closer, glasses gleaming like a smug PowerPoint. “Charlie radiates enough mana for me to construct one. It will require a difficult quest you do for me in return, but it’s possible.”

  “Cloudy, that’s not cool.” I crossed my arms and gave him the best queenly glare I could muster while still half under a blanket. “You’re poaching my best assistant.”

  “Hey!” Lola shot upright beside me, hair disheveled, cheeks pink. “I’m the best!”

  Jerry’s voice cut in smoothly, utterly unbothered. “I serve Charlie. Therefore, it is her decision.”

  “Even if you agree,” Cloudy continued, “the process will take a few days. It is… mana intensive and Charlie isn’t 7-legendary yet.” He floated in a slow, lazy spin, then paused dramatically. “And that still wasn’t the first thing I came here to say.”

  I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Cloudy,” I said through my fingers, “you are literally powered by the concept of information. Spill it out already!”

  “I’m very disappointed,” Cloudy said, his pastel form dimming to a stormy gray. “Players have been misusing the log-in and log-out mechanisms. I need to adjust parameters, but I wanted to consult you—and Nathan—before the change.”

  I blinked, feigning ignorance. “Misusing it? How?”

  “You’ve used it successfully in the battle.”

  Ah. That.

  I tried to put on my most innocent face, which only made him squint harder. “Respawn tokens were never meant for that purpose,” he continued. “They were designed to anchor players near their party; to let them travel safely, or be carried on ships.”

  “Yeah…” I muttered, hugging Lola without thinking. She stiffened for half a second, then relaxed against me.

  Cloudy spun slowly, his expression cycling through displeasure presets. “You weren’t even the first. One group exploited it in a dungeon: one player sneaked through an entire section while the rest used respawn tokens to bypass challenges. It breaks the intended design. I dislike that. It gives players an unfair advantage. I will adjust it.”

  I winced. “Define adjust.”

  He ignored me. “Also, logging out to convey information.” His little face twisted into an annoyed squiggle. “This has been happening since day one, and it is getting worse. I must prevent it.”

  I sat up straighter. “Wait… you want to stop people from logging out?”

  “Not entirely,” he clarified. “I will prevent them from contacting other players on Earth. That channel of communication was… a key factor in your side’s victory. You were organized. Efficient. Including the royal interface, coordinated quests… none of this was intended use.”

  He turned toward Lola, and the temperature in the room dropped a few metaphorical degrees. “These quests and systems,” Cloudy said evenly, “were never meant to coordinate city-wide attacks.”

  Lola flinched and half-hid in my arms like a cat caught with a broken vase. “Sorry…” she murmured, voice small.

  “Hey!” I shot back, glaring at the floating storm puff. “Leave her alone! You touch her again, and I swear I’ll grab a vacuum and erase you from local storage!”

  Cloudy froze mid-spin. Then, slowly, he tilted his glasses downward. “That would be inadvisable,” he said primly, but I could hear the hesitation in his tone.

  “Try me,” I said, hugging Lola tighter. “You can mess with the world all you want, Cloudy, but don’t scold my Lola for being good at it.”

  Lola peeked up, cheeks still pink, and whispered, “Thank you, Lady.”

  “Anytime,” I muttered. “Now go bully someone else.”

  Cloudy sighed, a faint roll of thunder inside the fluff. “You are impossible to reason with.”

  “Exactly,” I said sweetly. “And yet, you still try. That’s on you.

  Jerry Can (Have a Body?!)?