The condo unit was quiet.
In fact, too quiet that I can hear the rain outside, that traced thin lines down the window glass, breaking the neon reflections of the Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, or known as EDSA.
Somewhere far below, a motorcycle engine coughed to life and faded into the night. EDSA Bus Carousel honking as they arrive the station nearby.
Inside, only the low hum of the air conditioning unit filled the dark — the VR visor's faint blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat on the desk.
I should've been asleep already.
But my eyes kept returning to those words etched across the afterimage of my vision.
Legacy Partner Detected: Meihua.
Status: Offline… Data Activity Detected in Singapore Core Grid.
My hands twitched slightly, still remembering the shape of the rifle, the recoil that shouldn't have felt that real.
It wasn't the match that left me wired.
It was that name.
Meihua.
Erica's in-game name.
She said it meant "plum blossom," the flower that blooms through winter.
Back then, she laughed and told me it suited her.
I teased her that it sounded too elegant for someone who threw grenades like a lunatic.
That laugh still echoed somewhere in the back of my mind — the kind that started soft and ended in a snort when she couldn't stop herself.
I missed that.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the room blur. The aroma of my brewed coffee lingered.
The VR visor sat quietly — dormant now, but alive with memory.
That notification couldn't have been random.
Not after a year. Not her.
I wore my VR visor after chugging my coffee and opened my old match logs. The interface flickered; my old partner tag, [Meihua], still bound to mine under Legacy Link: Gaia Esports.For a brief second, I thought I saw her icon flicker — a pale pink cherry symbol, glowing faintly — before vanishing again.
Erica wasn't just my fiancée.
She was my other half inside Call of Duty:VR — the reason "Drumstickkk and Meihua" were once feared names in the eSports scene.
Gaia Esports called us the Undefeated Duo.
The casters called us the Sync Pair.
We didn't dominate because of skill alone.
We trusted each other so completely that we played without words.
When I'd peek, she'd flank.
When I'd reload, she'd cover.
When I'd take a bullet, she'd avenge.
That trust — it wasn't trained. It was lived.
But reality had its own patch notes.
She was offered a data engineering job in Singapore. NeuralGrid Technologies — the very company developing Call of Duty's VR integration.
A dream for her. A distance for us.
We managed for a while — stolen hours, weekend calls, sometimes logging in just to sit in the virtual lobby and talk.
But work devoured time, and soon, the sync we once had became lag.
We agreed to retire after Season 15, but Gaia Esports had begged for a final appearance — our "farewell match."
A battle royale.
A send-off.
A goodbye disguised as glory.
We started strong. Every engagement, every rotation was perfect — just like old times.
Season 15: Battle Royale — Gaia Esports Invitational, Final Match.
The voice of the announcer echoed through the VR space.
Crowds roared in the background, their excitement bleeding through the sound filters.For many, this was just another high-stakes match.
For us… it was goodbye.
"Team Gaia — Drumstickkk and Meihua. Ready for deployment?"
"Ready," we said in unison.
I looked across the loading bay of the aircraft — a massive carrier hovering over the ruined city map of Verdantia. The floor thrummed under our boots, and the neon clouds outside flashed from the distant firefight already raging below.
Erica — Meihua — sat beside me, helmet tilted slightly as she tightened her gloves.Her avatar mirrored her real-world calmness: black tactical braid, pink accent scarf fluttering in the cabin draft. Her eyes — sharp, calculating — scanned the terrain map projected in her visor.
"Let's drop early," she said. "East Ridge — high loot density, low initial traffic."
"You sure? Hot zone's on the west today."
"I'm sure. Trust me."
I smirked. "Always."
Drop zone in 3… 2… 1… Jump.
The wind howled as we dove into the open sky.
Below us sprawled the shattered remains of Verdantia — skyscrapers swallowed by vines, roads cracked with age, rivers glinting like broken glass in the sunlight. Dozens of parachutes dotted the air, blooming like white petals over chaos.
Erica descended first, angling toward a half-collapsed radio tower.
I followed close, cutting my chute at the last second. My boots hit gravel; her voice came through instantly.
"Two squads to the west. One rooftop. I'll take high ground."
"Got it. I'll sweep lower floors."
We moved as one.
No hesitation. No wasted words.
She climbed the tower, her sniper rifle humming to life. I breached the lower building — clearing rooms, looting efficiently.
The HUD blinked.
Loadout Acquired: M4 - Black Gold Royal.Perks Active: Ghost, Quick Fix, Dead Silence.
Familiar. Reliable. Mine.
"Contact," she said calmly.
Crack!
One shot — clean headshot. The feed flashed:
[Meihua > K3v1n99]
"Got one. His teammate's pushing your side."
I turned a corner, saw movement.
Pop pop pop. Three taps to the chest.
[Drumstickkk > SpadeX]
"And that's two," I said, reloading. "You good?"
"Always."
Her tone was light — confident — but I caught that small laugh. The one that said she was enjoying this. It had been months since I'd heard it.
Minutes passed. We rotated zones, picking off squads like clockwork.
30 left. 20 left. 10 left.
Every fight felt like déjà vu — our synergy sharp as ever, as if that long distance hadn't dulled it.
The storm wall glowed violet at the edges of the map, slowly closing in.
Explosions rippled across the valley below as surviving teams fought for cover.
We reached the cliffs overlooking the Solar Array, a high-tech ruin glittering with neon panels and metallic debris.
Erica crouched beside me, eyes narrowing through her scope.
"Four squads ahead. One on the ridge, two near the hangar, last team camping underground."
"Plan?"
"We bait a third-party. You shoot once — make noise — I'll rotate left flank."
"Classic Meihua strat."
"Classic us," she corrected, smiling under her visor.
The moment I fired, chaos erupted.
Bullets tore across the valley as two enemy squads opened fire on each other. Erica moved like a ghost — sliding between cover, planting traps, throwing precise grenades that forced players into her line of sight.
[Meihua > Yurei_]
[Drumstickkk > L33tBoy]
"That's eight kills for you," I said, ducking behind a crate.
"You're slacking," she teased.
"Saving my bullets for the final circle."
"Sure you are."
Her laughter cut through the static — warm, alive — the kind of sound that made you forget the rest of the world.
For a brief moment, it didn't feel like a game.
It felt like coming home.
Then the storm closed tighter.
Only five squads remained.
We moved through the wreckage, hearts pounding in sync.
A red flare shot into the sky — enemy drop zone.
"Careful," Erica said. "Two on our left, high ground."
"Copy."
We sprinted behind a downed cargo drone.
Gunfire erupted — plasma rounds sparking off the hull.
"I'll flank right—" she started, then her voice cracked mid-sentence.
Static.
"Meihua? Say again?"
No response.
The HUD blinked.
Her health bar froze. Her signal strength spiked erratically.
Warning: Partner Connection Unstable.
"Erica?" My voice came out louder this time. "Meihua, come in!"
A flicker of pink light appeared beside me — her avatar glitching mid-run, face distorted, body stuck in a frozen frame.
Then—
[Teammate Meihua has disconnected.]
The sound that followed wasn't an explosion or gunfire.
It was silence.
The kind of silence that drowns out everything else.
"No… no, no, no!"
I slammed open my map, hoping it was a temporary drop, but her icon had already vanished.
I was alone.
The storm roared closer, devouring the valley. Enemies circled like vultures. I fired blindly, rage and panic mixing in my veins.
"Erica, if you can hear me—just hold on!"
But no voice came back.
Just static, cold and final.
By the time the match ended — a messy elimination in the top 5 — I didn't even care about the score.
The screen faded to black, and the announcer's voice sounded distant, hollow.
"Team Gaia – Eliminated. Drumstickkk and Meihua's final match ends at Rank 5."
Final.
I tore the visor off, breath ragged.
Her comms — offline. Her account — gone.
And all I could do was stare at the loading screen where her name used to be.
"You promised… we'd log in one last time," I whispered.
The rain outside continues— soft, endless, and heavy with memory.
And that was it.
She was gone.
When I tried to contact her after, her account was non-existent.
Deleted. Erased.
Not deactivated — gone.
Gaia's management had scolded me, accused me of throwing the match, of humiliating them.
But none of that mattered.
Because for me, that wasn't just a lost game.
That was the moment my world desynced.
I rubbed my face, trying to shake the heaviness from my chest. It had been a year since that day.
Now here I was again, staring at her name flicker back to life like a ghost signal from the past.
Status: Offline… Data Activity Detected in Singapore Core Grid.
My heart thudded once. Twice.
Could it really be her?
Or was it some corrupted link? A glitch from the old system's memory?
I wanted to believe it wasn't.
The rain softened into a drizzle.
I turned off the desk lamp and slid into bed, but sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
Her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, tied neatly in two braids. That soft, calm look she had when she was focused — the kind of expression that made you forget the world was loud.
She'd always wear oversized tops that swallowed her frame, pink or white, like she never quite fit in with the noise around her.
But in the game?
She was sharp. Ruthless. Brilliant.
The contrast fascinated me — the gentle warmth of Erica, and the cold precision of Meihua.
I reached for my phone, staring at our last message.
[Erica: Next time we log in, let's just play for fun. No rankings, no sponsors. Just us.]
That "next time" never came.
I let out a shaky breath and glanced at the visor one last time. Its blue light flickered once — a faint pulse, like it was breathing.
"If it's really you," I whispered, "then wait for me in there."
Tomorrow, I'll log back in.
Not for ranked. Not for glory.
But to chase the signal that still dares to whisper her name.