The café was a quiet, tucked-away spot on the edge of town—just like the kind of location two introverted gamers might agree on. Jarin sat at a corner table, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his cup. He was early. Of course he was. He had barely slept, stomach twisted in nervous knots since the night before. The idea of finally meeting RavenLock felt like stepping off a digital cliff. He was convinced RavenLock was a guy, probably his age, maybe a bit older. Someone who understood him in that unspoken, typed-out way. They’d never talked over voice, never swapped socials, never even hinted at personal details. And yet, RavenLock had become the closest person in his life. The one who made his streams shine. The meeting time came. Then passed. Jarin checked his phone again. Five minutes late. Ten. Maybe it was a prank. Or maybe RavenLock got cold feet. He wouldn’t blame him. God, he was about to leave. He grabbed his phone, ready to type a message he wasn’t even sure he should send—when someone sat down across from him. A woman. No—the woman. She had long, flowing dark hair with natural waves that framed her face like something out of a cinematic cutscene. Her eyes were sharp but soft, a rare blend of focus and warmth. She wore a black hoodie with the word HAZEL emblazoned in pink-red letters across the front. Everything about her glowed subtly in the café’s low amber light, from her flawless skin to the confident, calm way she carried herself. Jarin blinked. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to tell her she had the wrong table. “I’m sorry,” he muttered awkwardly, blushing instantly. “I—I’m waiting for someone.” She smiled. “Are you… PixelFrost?” The name hit him like a sudden server lag. He froze. Then blinked again. His voice caught in his throat. “Yeah…?” She leaned forward, tilting her head ever so slightly. “I’m RavenLock.” Everything in Jarin’s brain short-circuited. He stared at her, eyes wide. The girl across from him was RavenLock? The one he had spent countless nights laughing with.