The night in Maputo seemed to breathe with the city — orange lights reflecting on the wet asphalt, distant horns echoing through the avenues, the murmur of voices spilling out from late-night bars.
Steve pedaled through the streets, his jacket soaked, the cold wind biting at his face. Street lamps flickered above him, one after another, as if they were following his path in a sequence of blinking light.
The hospital faded behind him, but the weight of the night didn't leave. Thoughts rushed faster than traffic — his classes, his part-time job, the silence of an empty house, and that gnawing feeling that the world kept moving forward while he stayed in place.
When he got home, the old iron gate creaked like it hated being opened. He parked the bicycle by the wall, dropped his backpack in the corner, and caught the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. He greeted his brothers with a tired wave and climbed the stairs without saying a word.
His room was his sanctuary — anime posters covering the walls (Naruto, Attack on Titan, Fullmetal Alchemist), shelves lined with game boxes and old consoles. It was the one place where the world made sense.
He fell onto the bed, grabbed his phone, and with a single tap, reality faded away.
Genshin Impact loaded up — its calm music wrapping the room like a dream.
Here, he wasn't just Steve.
He was whoever he wanted to be.
Kaeya dashed across icy mountains, fighting monsters and collecting crystals. The rhythm of the game filled the silence, the fan's hum blending with the clash of swords.
Until something new appeared on the screen:
> [Friend Request Received: Nisin]
He blinked. "Who's that?"
Curiosity won. He accepted the request. Within seconds, a message popped up:
Nisin: "Hi! You play really well... I saw your gameplay, it's awesome!"
Steve: "Thanks! I was just exploring the same route for the 20th time lol. Where are you from?"
Nisin: "China . You?"
Steve: "Mozambique . That's... quite a continent jump ."
And just like that — a spark.
They talked about everything. Food. Traditions. Slang. Memes. Childhood cartoons.
She told him about the Lantern Festivals — skies full of floating lights and warm laughter.
He told her about Maputo's sunsets, the sound of drums echoing from the neighborhoods, and the marrabenta dances that brought people together on weekends.
Something about her tone felt... alive. Soft. Easy.
Her messages carried warmth, like a melody between lines of text.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. His eyes grew heavy, but he fought to stay awake.
Nisin: "Still awake?"
Steve: "Trying to fight the final boss — sleep ."
Nisin: "Haha. Then rest, warrior. We'll play more tomorrow."
Steve: "Deal. Partner-in-crime."
He fell asleep with the phone in his hand, the chat still open, a sleepy smile stretching across his face — the kind that only appears when something small suddenly makes life feel lighter.
The next morning.
Steve woke up different.
The world looked brighter, the coffee tasted better, even the traffic seemed tolerable.
He hummed a random tune as he buttoned his university shirt.
"Someone's in a good mood," his brother teased. "Did you win the lottery or what?"
At the university, he arrived before the professor — a miracle in itself.
When he walked into class, his friends stared like he'd grown wings.
"What's with the energy, Steve?"
"You finally got a girlfriend or something?"
He just laughed it off.
But deep down, he knew they weren't completely wrong.
After class, he met Denzel at their usual bus stop — the artist friend with torn jeans, sketchbook in hand, and sarcasm sharp enough to cut metal.
"Yo, Steve," Denzel said, eyeing him suspiciously. "You look like an anime protagonist who just discovered the power of friendship."
Steve chuckled.
"Nothing like that. I just met someone. From China."
Denzel's eyes widened theatrically.
"From China? My man's gone international! Steve 'Global Player' Matsinhe is in the building!"
"Relax, bro. We just play games together."
"Uh-huh. 'Just play games.' Sure." Denzel smirked. "Next thing you know, you're buying matching avatars and sending heart emojis."
Steve laughed, shaking his head.
"She's cool, that's all."
"Well, hurry up before another player respawns in her life."
That was Denzel — part comedian, part philosopher. His words always hit somewhere between funny and true.
Steve waved him off and biked home as the sky turned from orange to purple, the city glowing like an ember ready to fade.
At home, he didn't even take off his shoes.
Backpack down. Lights on. Phone out.
Nisin was already online.
Nisin: "Wanna play Neverland today? I made a new character just for you ."
Steve: "Oh really? Then give me a sec. I'll make an elf archer worthy of my Chinese teammate."
Nisin: "You'd better, Mr. Elf."
They logged in. Time disappeared.
They laughed through every mission, planned attacks, and teased each other over mistakes.
Her playstyle was graceful and chaotic all at once — unpredictable, fast, creative.
Together, they were unstoppable.
When they cleared the last level, they both cheered.
Steve: "We're the perfect duo."
Nisin: "Guess we are."
Steve leaned back in his chair, smiling at the screen.
It wasn't just the game — it was her. The way she typed, the rhythm of her laughter even through text. Somehow, it felt real.
Then she typed something unexpected.
Nisin: "You're a gamer at heart, huh?"
Steve: "Yeah. Been playing since I was a kid. Games are… how I escape the real world, I guess."
Nisin: "I get that. Sometimes the virtual world's the only one that feels right."
There was a pause. The tone shifted — softer, serious.
Before he could reply, she sent a link.
> "NE.XU.S — Exclusive Pre-registration for Selected Players."
Steve frowned. The website looked sleek, futuristic — glowing letters forming a geometric logo, like circuitry alive with light. The tagline beneath read:
> "The next evolution of connection."
Steve: "What's this? A new game?"
Nisin: "Let's just say... it's more than a game."
Steve: "Like VR?"
Nisin: "More real than that."
Something in her words felt strange.
He checked the clock — 11:47 p.m. Thunder rumbled faintly outside.
Curiosity won again.
He filled in everything: name, age, country, favorite genres, email, even his phone number.
Then he hit "Submit."
The screen blinked once. The phone buzzed — not the usual vibration, but deeper, almost like a pulse. Then everything went back to normal.
Steve: "Done. Looks like another RPG beta test to me."
Nisin: "Maybe… or maybe not."
She added a smile emoji — the mysterious kind.
The silence that followed made the room feel colder.
Steve rubbed his arms, shaking off a shiver. Maybe it was just the night.
They kept playing a little longer, but the rhythm had changed — lighter words hiding something heavier beneath.
Then came a picture from her: a river filled with floating lanterns, gold and red lights drifting in the dark.
Nisin: "This is my favorite night of the year."
Steve: "It's beautiful."
Nisin: "Maybe one day you'll see it with your own eyes."
He stared at the image, the reflection of lanterns shimmering in his eyes.
Steve: "Yeah... maybe I will."
The chat went silent again. Only the soft game music filled the room.
Steve typed slowly:
Steve: "Good night, Nisin."
Nisin: "Good night, Steve. Dream of me."
The message lingered for a few seconds — then the game closed on its own.
He blinked at the dark screen. For a brief moment, his reflection flickered — warped, as if the glass itself was breathing. He rubbed his eyes. It was gone.
Placing the phone on his chest, Steve lay back and stared at the ceiling.
The sound of the fan filled the silence.
Somewhere, deep inside, a quiet sense of connection took root — invisible, electric, impossible to name.
Outside, the wind whispered through the window frames.
And somewhere far away — maybe thousands of miles — a girl named Nisin smiled at her screen, the same quiet smile.