When Last Night Didn't End

2.2

The moment I rounded the alley, I knew my life was over.

I ducked, a bright flash of magic singeing the ends of my hair, which flopped around with the wind and with every movement. When I looked back, the bandits were close to catching up. Various screams of aggression, annoyance, and fear blurred in my ears and my pounding heartbeat replaced them. Then, I turned my attention back to where I was going. My heart stopped.

It was a dead end.

How did it come to this? To answer that question, let me go back to a few minutes ago.

After the light faded and I ended up in a place that's definitely not the living room, I did a quick survey and realized two things. One—I was standing inside the most colorful forest I had ever seen; and two—I was dressed in the silliest attire I have donned in my entire life.

So, I did the most sensible thing as a person of my caliber could think of.

I jumped ship. Figuratively, that was.

By the time I finished tugging off the straps and buckles attaching metal articles to my arms, legs, and upper body, a pile of glinting handiwork sat by my feet. I had propped myself on a nearby rock, avoiding the direct stream of sunlight punching through the canopy of scarlet leaves. Then, I sighed, reaching out to brush my hair off my forehead. Instead of my hand merely touching and feeling the wetness of sweat against my skin, my vision pricked and a blast of information slammed into it.

I remember giving out something between a yelp and a gasp. When I flinched, my butt slid off the alga covering the rock's surface, sending me crashing backwards. Another cry of pain followed by a groan escaped my lips as the back of my head smacked against the rough bark of a nearby tree. The impact sent vibrations up the trunk, shaking a few red leaves loose.

I blew off the one that landed on my face. I straightened, hand rubbing the sore spot behind my head. That's dangerous, right? My attention was caught by something more interesting than the blossoming sting somewhere in my back. In my vision, what looked to be a user menu in any typical game blinked at me.

What in the world was this? I extended my arms, watching how my skin turned muted gray against the spaces the translucent menu took up. It's like having a glass pane filled with letters and bars block one's line of sight at all times. How did I even trigger it?

I was reaching up to clear up the itchy spikes tickling my forehead. My hair was known to be an untamable beast and needed to be sheared regularly. I've been going back and forth between the province and the house in the city due to the clean-up of the house these last few weeks. I wasn't able to get around to snipping my hair off.

That's when the strange menu popped up—right when my hand moved over my face. So, I tried it again, this time in the opposite direction: down. Before my eyes, the glass pane blinked out of existence. To further prove my theory, I swiped my hand over my face once more. Poof. Menu. Swing down. Poof. No more menu.