|Ace>

  The cafe on South Boulevard was packed with players seeking warmth and comfort on the chilly December afternoon. Steam rose from cups of coffee and hot chocolate, fogging the windows and creating a cozy barrier between the cafe's warmth and the snow-covered streets outside. Cherry and I claimed a table near the back, our clothes finally dry. New Year's decorations hung from the ceiling - paper chains, glittering stars, and streamers in silver and gold - it was just a few days away. Hard to believe we'd been trapped in this game for five months now - it felt like so much more. ... It made me wonder how my mom was doing.

  But we had work to do.

  We got our drinks and set out the tape recorder and notes. I plugged a pair of headphones into the recorder and started to rewind it. Once we had them transcribed onto notecards, we could rearrange them to plan out the structure of the article. While I was doing that, I pushed my notebook toward Cherry.

  "Can you take care of the conclusion? Look at the intro I wrote earlier and echo that or something."

  She tapped her pencil against her own notebook as she stared at the paper and sipped her hot chocolate.

  We'd also need to run to the print shop to get copies of the photos we'd taken. But first things first - get the text nailed down.

  As I wrote, I became aware of something nudging my arm. Initially, I assumed it was Cherry trying to get my attention, but she was still staring intently at the notebook. I turned to find someone leaning across from the neighboring table - a man wearing a brown checkered suit and thick-rimmed glasses. It took me a moment to recognize him - the knight-librarian, Prince Nicolaus's secretary. His nameplate now officially gave him the name of Jorral. He was sitting alone at the table behind us, his cup of tea untouched as he leaned over to whisper to us.

  "Pardon the interruption-" he began.

  "Pardon my interruption," I whispered back, "but I thought we said we're busy?"

  "Just look!" He pointed toward the entrance, where a player had just walked in - a guy named Monodon.

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  At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about him - his clothes were a mix of light combat gear and casual town attire, the kind of outfit that wouldn't stand out in a picture of South Boulevard. But in motion, something was distinctly off. He moved with an unnatural rigidity, his head and eyes fixed straight ahead as he walked directly to the counter. No glancing around, no hesitation - just a single-minded path to the NPC barista. He opened the shop interface, made a purchase without a word, then pivoted on his heel and walked straight back out.

  "What's up with them?" I asked, watching the door swing shut.

  "That's what we want to know." Jorral said. "It started after the devastation of Stonehearth."

  "You think it's a Fringe infiltration?" I asked.

  Jorral shook his head. "I don't believe so, no. The Fringe are not this... careful. I... I'm not sure how to explain this, but we have reason to believe that the adventurers acting this way have... recently gone missing."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I wish I could tell you, but that's what I'm here to learn." Jorral leaned closer. "You're reporters - you must have some way of finding this type of information, don't you?"

  "Yeah, we've got some practice." I said. "What do you have on them so far?"

  Jorral slid a folder across the table. Inside were several photographs, each showing different players going about seemingly mundane activities around the city - shopping, walking down streets, entering buildings. There were four distinct subjects, each captured in multiple locations.

  "We've been observing them for several days now." Jorral explained as I flipped through the images. "They have no steady pattern and no clear goal and appear to be very temperamental and aggressive."

  I closed the folder. "That's not a lot. You need a crack to start prying at - the name of a former contact or guild affiliation."

  "Could you help me find that?" Jorral asked.

  "I'm sorry, but we can't..." I began, then paused as an idea struck me. "Actually, how about a little quid pro quo? We'll look into these names if you..." I handed Jorral the tape recorder, "transcribe these interviews for me."

  Jorral's face brightened immediately. "Oh, certainly! I've never been one for field work!"

  I handed him the stack of blank notecards I'd been using. Cherry, never one to miss an opportunity, slid my notebook across the table. "Could you write a little conclusion for me, too? Nothing too fancy - it's gotta look like we wrote it. We'll fill the pictures in later."

  "I'll see what I can do." Jorral promised, gathering up our materials with an eagerness that suggested he was getting the better end of the deal.

  As we left the cafe, stepping back into the cold afternoon air, I said, "The game's going a long way to rope us into this. What do you think's going on?"

  Cherry's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I think it's recognized who the real protagonists of this story are! There will be no doubt in the history books: it was Ace Reporter, Cherry Keane that cracked this case!"