From Freya Van Daalen's Perspective
Freya slowly removed the Black Tower console from her head.
The sound of the device powering down — that soft metallic click followed by a brief hum — was the final note separating the virtual from the real.
The light of the room blinded her for an instant.
After so many hours immersed in another world, the artificial lamps seemed too bright, and for a few seconds she just sat there, the console still in her hands, trying to remember how to breathe outside the simulation.
When her eyes finally adjusted, the familiar outlines of her apartment began to take shape — a small but lived-in space, cozy in its disorder.
The Black Tower console rested on a narrow desk beside a compact PC tower, its monitor still flickering with faint blue notifications.
A rolled-up yoga mat, a pair of small dumbbells, and a half-empty water bottle perched atop a pile of books completed the portrait of someone constantly juggling chaos and routine.
Photographs lined the walls, giving warmth to the place — snapshots of Freya with Steve and Anna, genuine smiles captured in simple moments: a day at the park, a lopsided birthday cake, a sunny afternoon by the beach.
There was even an old photo of her holding both of them in her arms, exhausted, yet carrying that quiet determination of someone who bears the world and still finds strength to smile.
Everything was modest, but real.
The kind of home that, despite its small size, pulsed with life — clutter, warmth, and love.
And there, in the middle of it all, Freya Van Daalen took a deep breath — between the white light of her room and the lingering shadows of what she'd left behind inside the Tower.
The mirror across from her returned the same reflection as her in-game avatar.
The same defined features, the same dark hair, the same vivid green eyes she'd grown used to seeing through the Tower's magical interface.
Only the expression was different.
In the game, she wore Sith's calm, confident gaze — the eyes of the Lioness.
Here, she saw only Freya Van Daalen: a woman caught between two worlds, her mind torn between what was real and what no longer seemed like fiction.
She placed the helmet gently on the desk and leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her weight.
Her fingers brushed her face, almost reflexively, confirming she was really there.
Her heart beat slowly — still trying to catch up with the pace of the simulated life she'd just left.
But what truly kept her silent wasn't the physical disorientation.
It was Alessio's words.
"The exchange will be allowed — both ways. Same value. One to one."
Freya repeated the sentence in her mind once, twice, three times.
She couldn't decide whether it was genius or insanity.
Her mind, usually quick and analytical, struggled to keep up — not because the words were complex, but because they sounded unreal.
A direct exchange between the Black Tower and the real world?
Virtual coins converted into actual money, equal to the dollar?
It was the kind of idea that belonged in fiction — bold, dangerous, revolutionary.
And yet… coming from Alessio, she couldn't quite dismiss it.
Since the moment they'd met inside the Tower, every improbable thing he'd said had turned out to be true.
He spoke with the certainty of someone who had already seen that future unfold — and for reasons she couldn't explain, that was enough for her to believe.
Freya leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.
A nervous smile slipped through her lips.
"This is insane…" she muttered under her breath, almost laughing. "But if it's true…"
If it was true, then her problems — all of them — were over.
She had a little over three hundred thousand gold coins stored in her inventory.
Inside the Tower, that was a fortune — enough to sustain a mid-sized guild for months.
But out here… in the real world…
Three hundred thousand coins meant three hundred thousand dollars.
Freya's mind spun as the thought settled in.
With that much, she could pay off every debt, secure her kids' education, buy a new house — maybe even take a long, overdue break from working herself to exhaustion.
That amount of money could rewrite her entire life.
The idea was so huge, so impossible, that for a few seconds she could only sit there, staring blankly at nothing, an incredulous smile spreading across her face.
Her heart raced again — not from adrenaline this time, but from hope.
"He's got to be kidding…" she murmured, trying to be rational — though the spark of belief was already taking root inside her.
But reason soon gave way to imagination.
What if it was real?
What if, in a week, she could actually withdraw that money?
What if the impossible was about to happen?
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned back in the chair.
She still didn't know if Alessio was a visionary or a madman — but somehow, she trusted him.
And in seven days at most, she'd know the truth.
The silence of the apartment was suddenly broken by a familiar, impatient voice calling from down the hallway.
"Moooom!" Steve shouted, dragging out the word in that tone that guaranteed an answer. "We're hungry!"
A second voice followed, higher and louder.
"And breakfast still hasn't shown up!"
Freya exhaled, a soft laugh escaping as reality gently reclaimed her.
"Back to the real world," she thought, pushing the chair back and standing up.
The Black Tower might promise entire worlds, but the kitchen still depended on her.
And for now, the only exchange rate that mattered was turning gold coins into toast and milk.
She glanced one last time at the console on her desk — and for a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with the same green glow that belonged to Sith, the Lioness.
"One week," she whispered. "I just have to wait one week."
And with a small, knowing smile, she headed for the door.
"Coming, junior agents!" she called out playfully. "The chief is on her way to make breakfast!"