The Gamer Chapter 1437 – No need to verify (Patreon)

“I have found the missing shirt.” Claire immediately bowed her head – primarily in Lee’s direction. “It was my mistake. I mindlessly tossed it in with the other black laundry. I apologize deeply for suspecting you for something that was my own incompetence.”

“I, uhm, well, it happens,” Lee responded.

John tilted his head. ‘That doesn’t sound right,’ he thought. Mindlessly toss away something with his scent on it? Claire? He would sooner believe Scarlett permanently quit smoking. Regardless, that was the explanation given, and the guilty expression on the vampire maid’s face did not appear fake. Then again, he was the one that drove her Charisma into overdrive. ‘Only way to make sure would be to check her thoughts… am I going to do that over a shirt?’ He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I trust you won’t let it happen again.”

“Thank you, Master!” Claire straightened back up. “I will not disappoint. I will not provide discomfort. I will not provide reason for doubt!”

That was all the usual and it did put John at ease. Even if something felt off about this situation, if anything was strong enough to overpower his paranoia, it was his love for his girls. The fact that she still was obsessively in love with him was betrayed by the prolonged stare at his naked form. She certainly wouldn’t let any harm come to him or his. That was all he needed to know.

“I will personally oversee your next laundry shift,” Aclysia announced.

The devouring gaze suddenly stopped and Claire hung her head. “Yes, head maid…”

The rest of the harem around paid little attention to the exchange. They were past breakfast and those girls that weren’t already out were either in the showers or napping off post-orgasmic exhaustion. Only the maids were completely present.

“Well, at least that mystery is… resolved?” John turned to Beatrice. “What’s my schedule for today?”

“Reminder: Ahanu and Elu insist you attend the Fire Guidance festival. It is a ceremony following the Summer Solstice.” A good opportunity to show the Hidden Tradition he still cared about them and respected their customs. The bigger Fusion got, the more difficult it got to appease all the players that had gotten the Federation started. Best to keep his power base happy. “Is there time for the meeting in the evening?”

“It has been assigned highest priority,” Beatrice assured.

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A drumming sound was competing with the classical-inspired video game soundtrack that ran in the background of the large room.

Thump-Thamb-Thump – floor, wall, ceiling, two similar noises encapsulated a slightly different one in their order. The wall had a different thickness than the other two surfaces, was fashioned from a different kind of stone, causing the vibrations to sound ever so slightly different. The golf ball landed in John’s hand and he tossed it again, like he had done for ten minutes now.

The small white sphere had been removed from its resting place. The glass that usually covered it had been put aside, the cushion atop the podium was empty. It was the closest socket of a treasure in the entirety of the room.

Personal treasures and real treasures were both present. In the context of this space, the former had greater value. Drops of molten metal rested on one cushion, remains of the Construct of Order, the superweapon Romulus had destroyed above Warsaw. A written treaty on the harem’s rules, a simple sheet of paper that held almost more humoristic than sentimental value. Same held true for the contract that had given him ownership of the Boating Seaquence.

A many-coloured piece of polished glass reminded of the Atlantic Fuse. Next to it was a piece of rubble that he had taken from a former Thorne building and decorated with a wreath of cables. Another piece of concrete had once belonged to the former Illusion Barrier Mass Anchor of the Hudson Barrier.

Tokens of old memories, next to new ones. There was a glowing sphere, resembling one of Enki’s stars. A golden rose was next to it, a gift by Moira and her father on Fusion’s second anniversary. A painted picture hung behind it, the image Eliana had worked on when he had visited her atelier recently. She had deemed it a failure and started from scratch. John had refused to let it go to waste. Next to it was a carefully crafted stone model of Arkeidos’ final moments. Gnome had made it in a flash of inspiration and this was the best place to put it.

Thumb-Thamb-Thumb, the golf ball kept on bouncing.

The latest addition to the room was a photo of the handprint-covered piece of wood that they had created at the end of the vacation. For as long as possible, the original would remain there. It was a reminder of their time there, simple and happy as it was, and that the retreat would be there if they ever needed it.

All of the treasures in the room, both in terms of emotional and real value, paled in comparison to what John had on the small desk he sat by. Not the shards of Tietan nor the golf ball he kept from his game against Abraham could compete with it. The little box of polished birch was heavier than anything John had ever held. Its presence created a chasm in his stomach that he could not fill with any degree of logic.

‘She already told me she would say yes.’ He tried anyway.

Thumb-Thamp-Thumb, the gold ball did a final round and then stopped in his hand.

The Gamer sighed deeply and rolled the ball in his hand. It had only gained in sentimental value since he had picked it up. Originally it was a reminder he was dealing with a hypocrite. Then it became a reminder that even hypocrites are capable of great things. Finally it transformed into an object that helped him think. Whenever he was mulling over something difficult, he played with it. It was a golf ball for Abyssals, it could withstand the constant mechanical motions.

This, however, it did not help him solve.

Standing up, he walked around the small desk and placed the golf ball back on its podium. The glass was carefully put back on top. His fingers left little smears on the flawlessly translucent cover. He wasn’t in the mental place to care. All of his thoughts circled around the box.

He had received its content just a bit earlier. Meeting in secret with two of the most famous smiths of myth was difficult, but with Nightingale’s help he had done it three times. Once to talk, once to commission, and once to receive the finished product. Months of choosing materials, personally crafting every involved gemstone, and surrendering to his inability to shape certain metals properly had gone into it. In that box lay what bound his past to his future. One ring to change it all.

‘Or change nothing whatsoever,’ John thought and turned the birch box in his fingers. He shook his head. ‘It’ll get me closer to being a father at least… isn’t that what I want?’ Almost, he placed the box down with a loud clack. Despite knowing how sturdy it was, he stopped at the last moment and placed it gently on the table.

Right there lay the path to happiness. He already had all the answers needed. He did. He well and truly did. He had every assurance through word and action that everything would go fine. He would propose. He would marry. He would become a father. ‘With another woman but… that’s all agreed on…’ John tried to joke to himself. The chuckle got stuck in his chest.

Was he ready for any of this?

Was he ready for anything that couldn’t go to plan?

‘I haven’t felt this helpless since… since before all of this,’ John closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He recalled himself back then, when friends were a distant concept and flirting with girls the pathway to mockery. It felt like he was at the precipice of destroying what little social life he had. Like he would get himself shamed for doing what he knew he needed to do to be happy.

“THUMP!” the loud echo of his fist drumming on his chest echoed through the room. “THUMP!” He did it again. Did it until his ribcage hurt and he finally felt worthy of opening his eyes again. Not allowing himself a single thought, he reached for the smartphone on the table. He punched in a couple of letters. The scarcely called number appeared on his screen. He tapped confirm and waited. The music in the room ceased.

There was only the ‘Tuut-tuuuut’ of the phone.

“You have reached the Hollmeys?” Regan’s voice reached him from the other side. John wanted to answer, but his mouth was dry. He coughed. “Do I have to cough-drop the call?”

John let out a half-choked laughter. “Your puns are still terrible,” he croaked.

“John!” Regan exclaimed enthusiastically. “You have so many phones, I didn’t recognize the number. Have you considered sending faxes instead? As president, you should love things that rhyme with ‘axes’.”

By then, John had managed to draw something liquid out of his inventory and wet his throat with it. He chuckled again. “Sorry for the sudden call,” he said, “and sorry that I’m not in the mood to banter… this is important.”

“What happened?” Regan’s voice immediately became serious.

“I… got the ring.”

The deep breath on the other side was all John heard within the next ten seconds. A sober question came across the speaker, “So, it’s time that I give my little girl up completely, huh?”

“I would kindly request so,” John said, respectfully. He and Rave’s father had an up and down relationship. When they first met, the Gamer had been a reasonable friend to have. Then the whole harem business started, which her father was mildly disapproving of. Not enough to stop them, just enough to comment on it. John had brought the news of Rave’s death. Then he had brought her back. Then he had been in opposition to her mother.

Currently, because of John’s attempts to narrow the gulf between Nariko and Rave, he and Regan were on good footing. That neither he nor his wife had the capacity to threaten them out of the relationship had removed much of the resistance against their lifestyle as well. No use complaining about something that couldn’t be changed and that had been stable for almost 2 years.

In all ways that were observable, his little girl was already all John’s. Looking at the birch box, John understood what difference this made though. Even if the Abyss did not delve as deeply into marriage as the mundanes had – there was no clearer ritual to signal a change in life.

“…Wait a second, I am putting you on speaker,” Regan stated. There was some bumping, then some shouting.

“Can you hear me?” Nariko asked. It was always a bit odd to hear her over the phone. What differences between the voices of her and her daughter there were, the microphone diminished to nothing. What difference remained was exclusively one of tone.

“Yes… I will propose to Jane.”

“I expected as much.”

“You do have our blessing, for as much that is worth – is that why you called?” Regan asked.

“It’s worth a lot to me,” the Gamer assured, then sighed. “No, I called because I wanted to give you a chance to be there. Next week. I’ll rent a mundane bar.”

“A – mundane – bar…?” Nariko’s voice dripped with disapproval.

“My parents will be there and Jane likes bars,” John defended his choice simply. “What would you suggest?”

“…It will do,” Nariko surrendered.

“Do you have the details yet?” Regan asked.

“No, but I will soon. I’ll call you again.” There was just a little chatter afterwards, then they ended the call. ‘Half done,’ John thought with a long sigh. ‘At least I got enough of the nervousness out of my system. Silver lining.’ Without further rituals, he called his own parents.

“Hey, sweetie,” Brenda greeted him immediately. “Didn’t expect you to call today.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I am a terrible son,” John said jokingly.

“No! You’re just… not that talkative, especially when you’ve announced yourself already… are we still good for next week?”

“Yeah, that’s what I am calling about…” The pause here was deliberate, teasing his mom was one of the little pleasures in life. “…Would you be fine if we changed the venue? I’d like to meet in a bar and have a nice evening. My treat.”

“Hmm, well, you do have the money… but what’s the occasion?”

“I’m proposing to Jane.”

“John!” Brenda squeaked in a way that put an immediate smile on her son’s face. “Lead with that! Ah!” He could hear the excited trampling of a housewife pacing up and down her living room. “Finally! You left the poor girl dangling for so long! Is a bar good enough? Shouldn’t you rent out a five-star hotel? You sure you want us around, ruining the mood?”

“It won’t be a cheap bar, I think the hotel would be overblown, and you won’t ruin the mood. I’ll bring everyone.”

“Including that sweet Nia girl? I still haven’t met her, you know?”

“She’s… sadly the schedules won’t align… you know how it is with trying to get 21 people anywhere.”

“21…” Brenda mumbled the number. “Your dad and I were so overtaken when you said 11 already. Thought you’d grabbed yourself a bunch of vulnerable gold diggers or something. You doubled that number and I still haven’t met anyone that’s not lovely. I’ll have so many grandkids!” The cry brought her excitement down a bit. “On second thought, you really shouldn’t hold it anywhere in public. People are going to judge if you start making out with all of your other girls. Did you call the Hollmeys already?”

“Yes, they’ll be there,” John said. “Or should. I have yet to find the best venue.”

“Oh, I can help with that! I still have the place names around from all the bars your father’s bosses rent for company outings.” Brenda’s steps now echoed with purpose. “Let me just find the box.”

Truthfully speaking, John already had compiled a shortlist of potential places. However, he was not bad enough of a son to deny her the excuse to keep talking with her for longer. Even if he would get engaged several more times than the average person, this was the first time. With his first girlfriend and the first woman that his mom had ever seen him with.

The entire phone call, he was smiling.