GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Chapter 8.1: Missing Variable

"You know, that means you'll see where I live," Celia said, nudging his arm.

Vel glanced at her. "And?"

She cleared her throat and looked away, her feet suddenly very interesting. "Nothing. Just don't say weird things when we get there."

A smirk tugged at Vel's lips. "What kind of weird things? Like what can I possibly find in your room?"

Red crept up Celia's cheeks. She crossed her arms, refusing to meet his gaze. The thought of inviting a boy to her private space clearly flustered her.

"Just so you know, I'm not going to show you my room," she declared firmly.

The orphanage loomed ahead, a modest structure of aged wood and worn shingles. Its appearance was plain, but it radiated warmth in the way a home did. Vel recognized the yard, where he had occasionally met Celia, but he'd never ventured inside.

Celia led him through the gate, her pace quickening as if to avoid drawing attention. Vel trailed after her, taking in the small garden patch near the entrance and the faint chatter of children coming from within.

The door creaked slightly as Celia pushed it open, revealing a small room that was more practical than grand. A sturdy table stood in the center. Against one wall, rested a single wooden shelf, held a handful of books, each one worn with use.

Celia gestured lazily. "Go on, take your pick. Just don't steal anything."

Vel ran his fingers across the spines, eyes catching on one title: "Lona and Its History."

Celia peeked over his shoulder. "That one's boring."

Vel ignored her, flipping open the first few pages.

The book painted a vivid picture—Lona, once a thriving capital, now trapped between two great powers. To the north, the Therian Empire—expansionist, aggressive, always watching. To the south, the Zunese Kingdom—wealthy, patient, waiting for its moment.

Lona had once flourished, but war and constant Rift activity drained its resources.

They adapted. The Church, the Royal, and the Guild became more than just institutions; they became the three major factions.

But one passage stood out:

"History speaks of a figure who stood alongside King Garnos, shaping Lona's fate. Yet, no name is recorded, only whispers of their influence. Some say they were a traveler, a guide, an anomaly within the world."

Vel's fingers tightened on the page. The Player.

Or... someone like that.

He exhaled sharply. If the world had no players anymore, then who was guiding it now? No endless cycle of adventurers farming dungeons and stabilizing the economy.

Celia, watching him closely, nudged his arm. "You're really into that book, huh?"

Vel barely looked up. "It's important."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "You could at least pretend I did you a favor by bringing you here."

Vel grinned. "Oh, right. Thanks, Celia. I'll dedicate my first book to you."

She rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless."

She straightened up from leaning over the table and stretched lazily before turning toward the door. "Alright, Mr. Bookworm," she said lightly, throwing a casual wave over her shoulder as she walked out. "I'll go see if Miss Althea has some tea or something... you look like you'll be stuck here for hours."