“No.” Linh tapped the tablet. “The other one. The one behind the locked bookcase in Pierre’s storage room.”

“Well,” he said. “Looks like we’re making pudding.”

Clint leaned closer, intrigued despite himself. “Can it look up… whether Emily notices me?”

Linh typed. The tablet hummed. Current好感: 8 hearts. Hidden flag: “ClintCrush” = FALSE. Hidden flag: “SeesClintAsSadRockMan” = TRUE. Clint turned the color of a pale ale. “I need another drink.”

And somewhere outside the bounds of the game—in the real world, at a cluttered desk in Hanoi—a modder named Tài closed his laptop, smiled, and whispered:

Clint snorted. “That’s not real. That’s just a rumor.”

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