After the conversation with his brother—and confirming that everything they'd experienced was real—Riven searched the room again.
And again.
He checked under the bed. Behind the desk. Inside drawers he knew were empty.
Nothing.
The VR headset was gone.
"Jordan!" Riven shouted from the room. "Do you know where the VR headset is?"
"Uh—yeah," Jordan replied from the kitchen. "Come here real quick."
Riven walked in, expecting to see the headset sitting on the counter.
Instead, Jordan stood there with an awkward look on his face, hands behind his back.
Riven narrowed his eyes.
"…What did you do?"
Jordan inhaled sharply. "Okay—so—you passed out screaming, then fell back asleep. Like, immediately. When you put the headset on, it was around six PM. When you woke up… it was five PM the next day. You slept all day."
Riven frowned.
"So after the headset cooled down—because that thing was burning—I… sold it."
Jordan said it so fast Riven barely processed the words.
"…You what?"
"I—I sold it."
Riven stared at him. "Who would even have enough money to buy that?"
Jordan looked away. "Let's just say they don't live the most… legal lifestyle."
Riven didn't yell.
He understood why Jordan had done it. That headset had nearly killed him. To Jordan, it was the problem—the danger. Getting rid of it made sense.
What bothered Riven wasn't the sale.
It was who Jordan sold it to.
"Jordan," Riven said quietly. "You shouldn't be dealing with those kinds of people. Especially selling something like that. What do you think they'll do when they realize it doesn't have a charger—and the battery's almost dead?"
Jordan waved it off. "I already told them. They still took it. They'll probably resell it or scrap it or something. Besides… we needed the units."
Units—the currency of the era. Paper money had become worthless long ago.
Riven hesitated. "…How much did they give you?"
Jordan swallowed.
"Ten thousand."
"…Ten thousand?!"
Riven nearly shouted.
That was more units than he'd ever heard of in one place. For a moment, he wondered if they'd given Jordan the wrong type—physical units instead of online—but that wouldn't even make sense without a device.
"Okay—okay," Riven said, forcing himself to calm down. "We can give it to Mom and Dad and—"
Jordan cut him off. "You know that headset could've gone for way more. But they pressured me. I didn't know if negotiating would get me in trouble, so I took what I could. And knowing Mom and Dad…" He smiled faintly. "Most of it'll go toward something fancy for us."
Riven sighed.
Jordan was right.
Whenever their parents managed to save a little extra, they spent it on their sons. A movie night—no drinks, no popcorn. Popsicles. Cookies. Small things, but meaningful.
Unlike so many others, their parents hadn't abandoned them when things got hard. They'd endured it with their children.
Riven loved them for that.
"Mom and Dad will still be at work for a while, right?" Riven asked.
"Yeah. It's 6:30. Another hour and a half."
"Good."
Riven straightened. "Then let's do something fancy for them before they get back. We'll take some units, hide the rest—just in case—and buy them something nice before they can stop us."
Jordan's face lit up. "I like that."
The two boys changed into basic clothes and slipped out of the house, each carrying a small pouch with seven hundred units.
After a while, they split up to look for separate gifts.
As Riven walked, he thought about the two things his parents had always provided for him: food and games.
He'd always had a bigger appetite than Jordan, which meant his parents often gave him more without complaint.
So he knew exactly what he'd do.
A three-star meal.
Three stars—the highest rating available within the Dawn Walls.
He entered Cleaved Steakhouse, and smoke hit his face the moment he stepped inside.
"A customer!" a beefy man behind the counter shouted, sounding shocked, as if he hadn't seen one in days.
Riven glanced around. Empty chairs. Clean tables. The place felt abandoned.
A girl stepped out from the back—long red hair tied up, apron around her waist.
"Nico?" Riven asked, recognizing her instantly. They went to the same school.
Her eyes twitched in embarrassment.
She clearly hadn't expected to see anyone from the school knew here unless it was teachers but even then she doubted it.
"H-Hello, customer," she said stiffly, forcing a smile. "Can I get you a table for one?"
"Um—no," Riven said. "I'm ordering to go."
"O-Okay, sir." She handed him a menu.
"Thanks." He smiled politely.
That smile vanished seconds later.
"…These prices are insane."
The place was empty, yet everything was outrageously expensive.
Still, Riven had already decided.
He found the steak section—and nearly choked.
Two steaks would cost seven hundred units after tax.
"Jesus…" he muttered.
But he didn't hesitate.
"I'll have two steaks, please—um, medium rare."
Riven wasn't entirely sure what medium rare actually meant. He just knew it sounded right—something adults ordered when they wanted to look like they knew what they were doing.
What he did know was this: his parents deserved a proper meal.
Jordan went to the convenience store.
Knowing Riven, he thought, he probably went to some food place, trying to get something decent to eat.
If that was the case, then Jordan had another job.
At least I can make the house look better.
He headed straight past the cheap cleaning supplies. Those wouldn't cut it—not for a house this run-down. Instead, he filled his cart with higher-quality products: window spray, tub and toilet cleaners, a broom, a mop… even fertilizer.
If he could revive the lawn, even a little, it'd be worth it.
When he reached the front counter with all his items, the cashier stared at the pile in shock—not just because of the amount, but because none of it was cheap.
After totaling everything up, the worker finally spoke.
"Your total comes to five hundred units."
The number hit Jordan like a punch to the gut.
His hand hesitated—but only for a second. He forced himself to hand over the units anyway. Once everything was counted and bagged, he bolted out of the store and ran home.
That's when he saw Riven stepping out the front door.
His brother's eyes were wide. Shocked. Almost hollow.
Jordan stopped immediately.
"Is everything alright?"
Riven swallowed.
"It… it cost all of it. The two steaks cost all of it."
Jordan froze.
"Jesus," he muttered quietly, making sure no one passing by could hear. "Two steaks cost seven hundred units?"
"Yeah. I don't know why I'm surprised," Riven replied bitterly. "No one even goes there anymore."
Jordan reached into his bag and pulled out what he had left, handing it over.
"This is all I've got. I'll explain what I bought later."
That snapped Riven out of his daze.
He clenched the bag, then nodded.
"I've got an idea. By the time I get back, it'll be ready."
They exchanged a look. No more words needed.
Jordan turned and rushed inside—but before he could fully disappear, Riven called out:
"Make sure you boil some water."
Jordan gave a thumbs-up while nearly dropping half the cleaning supplies in his arms.
Riven turned and headed back to the same store Jordan had just left—but this time, he skipped the cleaning aisle entirely.
He grabbed two tall candles from home goods.
From the food aisle, he added seasonings, a bag of potatoes, and a small container of milk.
When he reached the register, the cashier squinted at him, confused.
"Didn't you just come in here? Wait—did you dye your hair and gain a few pounds?"
Riven didn't even slow down.
"You're thinking of my brother. I don't have time for this. Hurry it up."
After the total was paid, Riven ran out of the store with only fifty units left in his pocket.
The number lingered in his head as he sprinted home, passing the restaurant without slowing. His legs burned by the time he reached the house—but the sight waiting for him made him stop short.
Jordan was out front, carefully spreading fertilizer across the grass.
"Did you do it?" Riven asked, still out of breath.
Jordan nodded without looking up, continuing his work.
That was enough.
Riven went inside and immediately got to work in the kitchen. Steak alone didn't feel like enough—not after everything. If they were going to do this, he wanted it to feel whole.
Mashed potatoes would help.
As he began prepping, a voice rang out back at the restaurant he'd just left.
"Riven, your order's ready."
The man frowned when no one answered, glancing toward the door.
"…Huh. Nico."
"Yes, Dad?" the red-haired girl replied.
"I need you to drop this order off."
Nico blinked. "What? Why? He can come get it himself—and besides, he already paid."
"We don't even have customers," the man snapped. "Do you really want to upset the one customer we've had in weeks?"
"Maybe if someone lowered the prices, that wouldn't be a problem," she shot back.
"No. I told you already—these meals are magical. People should be paying way more than what I'm charging now."
Where do you even get off… she thought.
If nothing else, this attitude definitely came from her father.
Grabbing the paper bag, she stormed out. As she walked through the neighborhood, she spotted the two boys she'd seen a few times before—coming and going after school. She knew where they lived.
When she reached the door, a sharp, rotten smell hit her nose.
Fertilizer…?
"Jeez, what the hell is that smell?" she muttered, knocking.
"You brought a candle but not matches?" a voice called from inside.
"Oh—sorry! I was trying to be fast!" another voice replied.
She raised her voice. "Delivery."
The chatter inside instantly stopped.
The door opened, and Riven stood there. Before he could say anything, she shoved the bag toward his face.
"Here."
He didn't even close the door—just grabbed the bag and carried it to the table, setting the containers apart carefully. He ran a hand through his hair, stress written all over his face.
"Dammit… we forgot the plates."
"So you forgot plates too?" Jordan said, still mopping the floor.
"Don't start," Riven shot back.
The girl sighed dramatically. "God, I'm too nice."
She stepped inside, pointed at the candle, and flicked her lighter. The wick caught flame instantly.
"There. Candle lit. Seriously, I thought you two were brothers."
"We are," Riven said.
"Oh." She smirked. "So this is what guys are into. Okay, I won't judge—but I will be calling the cops."
"No, it's not for us," Riven said quickly. "It's for our parents. We finally got some money, so we wanted to treat them… for everything they've done for us."
Nico stayed silent.
"Lucky," she whispered under her breath.
Things had gotten rough between her and her father. Bad enough that she'd moved to another section of the city and left everything behind.
She turned and walked out.
Riven watched her go, a strange feeling tugging at him—but Jordan's voice pulled him back.
"So," Jordan said, wringing out the mop, "what are we doing about plates?"
Riven sighed. "Fine. I'll run to the store."
He headed toward where Jordan had hidden the units—then froze.
The red-haired girl was standing there again.
She placed two plates on the table. "Here."
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
Riven hurried over and added a few units to the bag Jordan had gave him.
"Here—105 units. I know it's not much, but… at least it's something extra."
She chuckled softly. "Yeah. Thanks."
Then she stepped out the door.
After a few minutes, Riven and Jordan waited outside.
Two familiar figures approached from down the street—a man and a woman walking side by side. Mr. and Mrs. Harlow. Their parents. The people who had sacrificed more than either boy could ever properly put into words.
"Jordan. Riven. What are you two doing out here?" the brown-haired woman asked, smiling the moment she saw them.
Before either could answer, Candice Harlow pulled them both into a tight embrace. "What are my two little devils up to now?" she teased, squeezing their cheeks.
"Mom, I've told you—we're too old for that," Jordan said, though he couldn't stop himself from smiling as he rubbed his cheek.
"Too old?" she scoffed. "There's no age where you're too old for anything when it comes to me. Got it?"
Their father stepped up beside her, ruffling both boys' hair with a smirk. "So," Kaden said casually, "what did you two do?"
"We don't know what you mean," they answered in unison, playing dumb.
"Oh really?" Kaden raised an eyebrow. "So that nasty smell I'm picking up isn't fertilizer?"
Riven stiffened internally.
How can he tell? Most people just think fertilizer smells like… well, poop.
He cleared his throat and put on his best polite voice. "Please, Mr. and Mrs. Harlow—enter your humble home and enjoy. Me and Jordan are gonna go hang out with some friends. We hope you like our gift."
Before either parent could question them further, the twins bolted down the street, laughter trailing behind them.
Candice watched them go, shaking her head fondly. "What did they do now?"
She stepped inside—and froze.
The house looked different. Not just clean, but prepared. The faint smell of fertilizer still lingered, but it was overwhelmed by something else—warm food, spices, and candle wax.
Two candles sat on the table, spaced carefully apart. Plates were laid out. A full meal waited between them.
Candice's hand slowly rose to her mouth.
Kaden let out a low whistle as he entered behind her. This was… not what he'd expected. He'd figured they might've swept the floor or wiped the counter.
Not this.
As he approached the table, his eyes softened when he spotted a folded note resting beside the plates.
He picked it up and read silently.
I love you.
I love you.
And thank you for everything you do—for dealing with us.
Candice stepped closer and read it too.
"Aww…" she murmured, her voice thick.
Kaden swallowed. "This food…" he said slowly, studying the dishes. "It's not cheap. I can tell just by looking at it. They must've spent real money on this."
"They must have," Candice agreed softly.
She moved to sit, but Kaden quickly pulled her chair out for her, then gently pushed it in once she was seated.
She chuckled. "At least you're still the same as when we first met."
When Kaden sat down, he didn't touch his plate. He just stared at the food.
Candice noticed. "Is something wrong?"
He hesitated, then spoke quietly.
"I can't help but feel like…" His voice wavered. "Like our boys are starting to become men."
Tears welled in his eyes. "And I hate that. I hate that they're growing up in a world where they might not stand on the same side—where one of them isn't even evolved."
He looked up when a gentle hand covered his own.
"All we can do," Candice said softly, "is love them. No matter what."
He met her eyes—and paused.
"That smile," he said quietly. "That's the smile I fell in love with."
She smiled again, just like she always had.
And for the first time that day, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter.