Chapter 1
Eleanor Hawthorne was a junior in college, just a semester away from graduation. Unlike most students who had gotten used to the cramped chaos of dorm life, she had opted for her own place, a sweet little apartment that her father had secured for her. It was nothing short of a luxury three-bedroom suite, complete with all the bells and whistles—especially the latest computer, which she considered her lifeline. In a world obsessed with social capital, Eleanor had the ultimate advantage. Her father, a man of wealth and influence, made sure she wanted for nothing. For Eleanor, as long as she had her computer, she could easily spend an entire week holed up in her room, only emerging for basic necessities: eating, bathroom breaks, and, of course, sleep. "I could skip a meal," she often joked, "but I can’t go a day without gaming!” Yep, that made her a total gaming addict. Lately, she had fallen head over heels for an online game called Griffin's Rest. Right then, she was deep into a voice chat, balanced awkwardly on her chair with a glass of milk in her left hand while her right furiously clicked her mouse. Her long brown hair, a wild cascade of waves, was thrown together haphazardly—no time for a brush when you were in the thick of battle. “Eleanor! What are you doing over there? I’m about to die, and you look like you’re just enjoying the scenery! Is this how you kick back as a healer?” came a voice from her headset, woven with urgency. It was Dorian Blackwood, playing the role of tank, and his health was plummeting. “Chill, it’s just some health loss,” she replied, taking a sip of milk nonchalantly. “Everyone dies once in a while! I’m a doctor in this game—if you bite it, I’ll just bring you back, no hassle!” With her character labeled a “Life Weaver,” she was essentially the group’s medic. Unfortunately, Eleanor had a knack for dropping the ball during crucial moments, endearingly earning her the title of “pitiful healer” amongst her friends. What did it mean to be a ‘pitiful healer’? It was like this: while others battled the monsters, she would often just be spectating. If someone was taking a mount, she’d be the one taking the scenic route in the backseat, courtesy of Dorian Blackwood, her loyal gaming chauffeur—much to his dismay. Dorian’s frustration was palpable. “Seriously, Eleanor? If I die, we’re wiped. And don’t forget—losing means losing like fifty grand experience points!" “Oh come on, if that’s your attitude, why would I want to be your girlfriend?” Eleanor teased, refusing to back down. “Are you happy that I’m about to bite the dust? You think it paints you in a good light to let your tank die?” His voice was smooth, like fine crystal clinking together, but there was also a drawl that made her stomach do flips. It was annoying yet captivating, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of attraction, complicating things even further. "Hey now, if a tank like you goes down with me in the party, that'll be embarrassing for both of us!” Eleanor tossed her now-empty milk bottle into a nearby trashcan with a flourish. “Stop stalling! What’s taking you so long? Can you please heal me?” Dorian had opted for a straight-to-the-point approach. After months of gaming together, he knew that battling Eleanor's antics often led to preventable headaches. “Just woke up, okay? I needed my sustenance,” Eleanor said, stretching her stiff neck. Last night had run long, and her body was still catching up. “Then we’re not playing until you get food. Simple as that.” With that, Dorian threw himself down in the game, refusing to budge. “Seriously, don’t be like this! I’m done with my milk. Get up! Isabella and Julian are waiting on us!" She felt a pang of guilt for holding them up. Dorian might be a pain, but he was also the reason the group worked smoothly—at least, when he wasn’t busy sulking. “Relax, we’re not in any rush!” chimed in Isabella Greycastle, Eleanor’s best friend since childhood, who had happily joined in on Dorian’s torture. Eleanor felt slighted by her loyalty—wasn’t she supposed to support her? “Did you hear that? They said they’re fine waiting. Get your food already! I can’t imagine what I’d do if I ended up marrying you—would you starve yourself to death?” Dorian’s playful barbs flushed Eleanor’s cheeks with warmth, even from behind the screen where no one could see her reaction. In that moment, a strange mix of embarrassment and affection flickered through her. There was something oddly comforting about Dorian’s banter, that familiar back-and-forth that made late-night raids a little less lonely. Just when she thought she was the only one who experienced the mundane and the extraordinary through the flickering screen, he made her feel seen.
Chapter 2
“Come on, I didn’t say I’d marry you!” Eleanor’s voice had a playful bite to it, her mock irritation bubbling to the surface. “Who’d want to marry you with that attitude? I’d consider it a public service to marry you just to save you from becoming another lonely spinster!” Dorian replied with a half-hearted jab. “Seriously, Dorian? Are you that bored?” “If I’m gonna get fixed up, I need to be well-fed first. Now eat something! I’m waiting for you!” Eleanor knew it was just a game, but she couldn’t help feeling a rush of sweetness wash over her—like honey melting on her tongue. There was something about Dorian, the guy she’d been exchanging messages with, that made her heart flutter. It felt like she might be falling for him! But the game was purely virtual, and she chuckled at the ridiculousness of her feelings. “I’m out of food here! My fridge is emptier than my social life. And if I go out, it’s sweltering out there, and let’s be real—I’m too lazy.” She stretched, her neck cracking as she turned her head. Just then, her phone buzzed to life. With the speakerphone on, everyone in the chat could hear the other end. “Eleanor, did you just wake up? I brought you some congee with century egg and lean pork. I can drop it off, just let me know when you're ready.” A warm, melodic voice pulled at her heartstrings. It was her brother, Thorin. His tone wrapped around her like a favorite blanket, and she couldn’t help but grin. It was moments like this that made her appreciate modern technology. The clearer the sound, the closer he seemed. “Oh man, you’re the best! I was starving! Where are you? Can you grab some ham too? I thought you were down on base! Why are you back?” Her excitement bubbled over. “Chill, sis. I would’ve been here sooner if I hadn’t run into some traffic. Just come open the door when I get there.” “Got it! I’m on it!” Eleanor hung up the call, adrenaline pumping through her veins. All the sleepiness drained away like someone flicked a switch. She turned to her teammates in the game chat, her face lighting up. “Hey, I’m sorry but my brother just arrived. I’m stepping away from the game for now. I’ll be back as soon as he leaves!” “Wait, Eleanor, you’ve got a brother complex or what? What’s the big deal? He’s just family, not a boyfriend. You act like I’m just gonna sit here forever while you ditch me!” Dorian’s voice had an edge to it—a hint of annoyance threaded through his usually playful banter. Eleanor felt a twinge of guilt. Dorian sounded genuinely upset, and she could imagine him lighting a cigarette, the sound sharp as he flicked his lighter, making her heart skip a beat in response. “There’s nothing more important in this world than my brother!” she shot back before closing the chat, leaving no room for Dorian's sarcastic retort. Weirdly, her chest tightened. She felt unjustly guilty about Dorian’s frustration. All her life, she and Thorin had walked a fine line between siblings and something more, something confusing she couldn’t quite name. Did she have feelings for him that bordered on romantic? God only knew that in her teenage years, Thorin had embodied her version of Prince Charming. Thorin was the orphaned son of a war hero, taken in by the Edmund family. He approached everything in life with fierce determination, driven to honor his parents’ legacy. Now, fresh out of military training, he was back on base. Growing up, Thorin had always been the one to take care of her—to prepare her favorite meals, clean up her messes when she couldn’t face the consequences. With him away, it felt like a piece of her life had been cleaved away, leaving a gaping hole where his presence used to fill her with joy. In her eyes, Thorin was irreplaceable. So hearing he was nearby made her want to forget about her petty fights with Dorian. She sprang from her chair, barely considering the game she was leaving behind. Rushing to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, and tidied up a little. She didn’t want Thorin seeing her in her lazy, gaming clothes. The anticipation bubbled within her, igniting a sense of excitement she couldn’t suppress.
Chapter 3
When Eleanor Hawthorne heard the doorbell ring, she twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection in a pale pink princess dress. Her long, cascading locks framed her delicate face, and a subtle dusting of blush accentuated her porcelain skin. To Thorin Stormrider, she had always been his little princess. No matter how stubborn or mischievous she was, he’d smile and say, “Our little princess is the prettiest girl in the world!” That compliment had kept her wrapped around his finger throughout her childhood. Every time he made a request, no matter how wild or wrong it seemed, she would obey. So, in front of Thorin, Eleanor wore a mask, suppressing her wild side to fit the mold of a refined young lady from a wealthy family. Though it often felt suffocating, the sight of his gentle smile made it all worth it. Edmund Hawthorne had remarked more than once that Eleanor only really acted like a girl when Thorin was around. But Eleanor knew the truth: she was terrified of Thorin not liking her. Despite being a foster son of the Hawthorne estate, Thorin was nothing short of a catch—handsome, charismatic, and brilliant. He’d excelled in school and had just graduated from military academy, now a newly minted officer with a bright future ahead. Yet, the possibility of him finding another girl one day gnawed at Eleanor. She couldn’t shake her attachment to Thorin; the three months he spent away felt like years. The world lost its vibrancy without him around—shopping trips turned into drudgery, and social events felt hollow. As she stood at the door, he voice beckoned her from the other side, igniting a flutter of nerves within her. “Eleanor, are you home?” His familiar voice sent her heart racing. It felt like they were newlyweds reuniting after a long absence—her pulse quickened with equal parts anxiety and excitement. “I’m coming!” she called out, sweeping toward the door with exaggerated grace, even as her impulse was to dash over. She knew Thorin liked her to be poised and ladylike. “Wow, you’re here already!” she exclaimed as she opened the door. Three months apart had changed him; he looked a bit tanner and leaner than she remembered. A torrent of concern swept through her. “Thorin, you really didn’t have to join the army for us. Look how thin you are. Mom would flip if she saw you like this!” She was careful not to voice her own heartache—years of kindness from Thorin left her unable to discern whether he loved her as family or something more. The fear of ruining their bond kept her quiet. His gaze was warm and tender, almost drowning her in its depth. She could lose herself in those eyes without a second thought. Thorin absentmindedly brushed his fingers through her hair. “Did you get a perm?” he asked, brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, Mom thinks it looks cute. I’ve got the potential to be a doll now, right?” Eleanor giggled nervously, not daring to admit it was because she was tired of her straight hair after twenty years and wanted a daring change. “Seriously? You ruined your beautiful hair. I thought the straight style was great on you.” His disappointed look sent a jolt of pressure through her chest. “Well, if you like it that way, I can always straighten it again!” She chuckled, but deep down, she was all too aware of how easily she capitulated to his preferences. “No way! At this rate, it’ll just turn into a rat’s nest. C’mon, have some porridge with me, and then we can head home and see Mom and Dad. You haven’t been back in ages, right? They’ve got to be worried sick about you.” When he drew her into a gentle embrace, warmth flooded through her, making all the stress melt away. “I’ve really missed you, you know.” Thorin smiled down at her, and for that moment, everything felt perfect.
Chapter 4
“Hey, Thorin, you’re so warm and comfy. This is my special spot; nobody else is allowed!” Eleanor snuggled closer, her voice a playful lilt that barely masked the jealousy bubbling inside her. The thought of Thorin comforting another girl, another ‘Fiona,’ gnawed at her ribs like a crow pecking away at her heart. She felt a heavy weight settle atop her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Yeah,” he replied, his single-worded answer causing her heart to flutter. “Big brother, are you tired from all that army training? I thought graduating from military school meant you’d step right into a cushy officer job. Why are you still swabbing decks like this?” Eleanor stirred her bowl of congee, the warmth enveloping her just like the boy beside her. Moments like these felt blissful, and if she had a choice, she'd book a lifetime subscription. “I want to start from the ground up,” Thorin said, a resolute glint in his eye. His handsome features shone with a fierce intensity that made Eleanor’s heart skip. “By the way, what games are you into these days? I heard from your classmates that you can go a week without leaving the house. Introduce me to something—I’d love to join in!” Eleanor nearly choked on her porridge. “Cough, cough! Thorin, you can't be serious! With all that training, when would you even have time for games?” Who was spreading these rumors? Probably only Isabella—she was the only one who cared enough to check in. Just thinking about her meddling sent a flush of irritation through her. That girl had a knack for pushing all the wrong buttons. “It’s fine; it can be like spending time with you. You’ve seemed a bit lonely while I’ve been gone,” Thorin said. There was a warmth in his voice that sent ripples of happiness through Eleanor. “Griffin's Rest. You can Google it, it’s a blast!” Eleanor tilted her head back, beaming a smile that nearly rivaled the sun. It felt as if a radiant rose had blossomed in her heart, bright and vividly red. “Great!” Thorin naturally pulled out a napkin and gently wiped the edges of her mouth, the touch feather-light, making her heart race. What if those fingers were his lips instead? The thought startled her, making her drop her gaze into her bowl, as if she could hide her blush by staring intensely at her food. “Slow down. You're a big girl now, not a child. After you finish, we need to go shopping for some new outfits—the seasons are changing, and I can’t let you wander out there alone.” “Okay.” Eleanor found herself nodding, a flurry of thoughts swirling about how Thorin had somehow become the object of her affection. How had this happened? An awkward silence fell between them, with her munching in concentration and him just watching, a fond smile playing on his lips. Suddenly, her phone rang, making her jump. “Isabella! Seriously? Were you a walking disaster in your past life? I told you my brother's here; it’s not a good time! You have anything important to say? If not, can you at least pretend to read the room?” Fuming, Eleanor saw Isabella’s name flash on the screen. The rush of annoyance washed over her like a tidal wave, and she momentarily forgot Thorin was right next to her, speaking without thinking. “Eleanor, a lady shouldn’t talk like that,” Thorin gently reminded her, his brow furrowing, and that sent a shock straight through her. She almost dropped her phone in panic. “Oh, my God! Sorry, big brother! That was a slip of the tongue! I’m just going to grab this call!” Eleanor laughed it off, hastily escaping Thorin's gaze. Once inside the restroom, she hoisted up her skirt, one leg boldly perched on the toilet seat, phone in hand while her other hand rested on her hip, raising her voice without thinking. She was anything but ladylike now. “Isabella, if you don’t have something worthwhile to say, I swear, you’ll be on my hit list after Thorin leaves!” Her teeth clenched with frustration as she imagined her friend's face right in front of her, ready to rip her apart. “Okay, okay, I know your brother’s priority number one in your book. But listen, we need to talk—this is big,” Isabella replied, her tone urgent and almost frantic. “Spill it fast; I need to hit the shops with my brother later,” Eleanor grumbled, still feeling miffed that her time with Thorin was interrupted just when things were getting good. Hadn’t Isabella made it clear during that conversation on Ye Ye that she wouldn’t interrupt?
Chapter 5
“Your brother, your brother! It’s always about your brother with you! You’re practically glued to him—do you expect to be his wife or something? And what about this game? You still playing? Because let me tell you, you just left Dorian Blackwood high and dry in the raid, and now he’s on the world chat shouting that he’s selling his account. You think that’s not a big deal?” Isabella Greycastle’s words hit Eleanor Hawthorne like a slap across the face, a jarring shock that cut through her with an unsettling sting. The squeaky clean tone of Isabella’s voice echoed painfully in her mind, conjuring thoughts of no longer hearing the cutting remarks, the jabs that always found their mark. “No, Isabella, you can’t be serious! Selling his account? Are you kidding? You really saw him? Dorian?” Eleanor’s voice quivered, disbelief creeping in. “Come on, sis! Is there another Dorian in this game? Come on, you two are practically the poster children for couple names! I’m telling you, I know you’re all about your brother, but seriously, how exhausting must that be? You act all prim and proper, but it’s a façade! It’s not just a day or a week—that’s a lifetime! But Dorian? He’s actually got your back in the game. The guy logs into your account just to clear your quests. He’d rather play solo than involve anyone else. He knows you love your late-night gaming, and he sticks around for that. You don’t find that kind of dedication easily!” “Okay, okay, enough! Isabella, Dorian could be a middle-aged dude for all we know!” The more Isabella spoke, the more agitated Eleanor became. Why on earth had Dorian decided to quit playing? To sell his account? He had said he liked her, right? Why just bail without a word and throw in the towel? She’d grown used to his soothing voice over the last three months—if he just vanished, a part of her would truly ache for him. “Seriously, you’re concerned your ‘middle-aged dude’ isn’t worth it? If you think he’s that great, why not set up a time to meet? He said he’s from our city.” Meet up? Isabella’s words spun in Eleanor’s head, making her feel dizzy. Online, everything is fun and games; no topic is off-limits, from politics to ridiculous jokes, because the chance of running into each other is nonexistent. But what if they actually met? The dynamic between them could shift, maybe even close the chapter altogether. This is what they call “seeing the light of day” online! “Isabella, are you out of your mind? Meeting up? Gaming is gaming, it’s not real life. Are you seriously in on this?” Eleanor couldn’t hold back her unease about Dorian selling his account. “What’s wrong with that? Just because it’s online doesn’t mean real feelings don’t matter! Look, I think Julian Kingsley’s a catch, and we’re planning to meet up soon. If it clicks, maybe we’ll date. Come on, Eleanor, with our backgrounds, we can’t wait for the right moment to find someone, or are you hoping for an arranged marriage?” Isabella’s logic hit home; their families had expectations. In this era of connections and status, everyone envied Eleanor and Isabella’s privileged backgrounds, attached to the notion that it somehow made them better. Yet only they understood that while they wore those crowns of admiration, they also carried chains of obligation—like political marriages just waiting to happen. A wave of frustration washed over Eleanor, like a lion stirring within her, needing to unleash some pent-up energy. “Quit laying this nonsense on me. Come on, what did Dorian say?” “Princess, can’t you just hop on the game and ask him yourself?” “My brother's online! How would I even approach that? If he asks who Dorian is, what do I say? ‘Oh, just my gaming husband’?” Eleanor tugged at her hair in agitation. “Isn’t Dorian basically your gaming husband? Everyone knows Dorian’s got a soft spot for you! Seriously, why not just come clean to your brother? You could test the waters to see how he reacts. Might just give you some closure after having this crush all these years!” “Shut it!” Eleanor exploded in annoyance. The thought of Thorin Stormrider finding out about her online ‘husband’ made her feel exposed, like a cheating wife living with guilt hanging over her head.
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