Kapitel 8: Roles

"It wasn't me! It was him! The demon… the man who laughs. He's laughing now—you hear it, don't you? He's here, in this room, watching me!" His voice rose to a shout, his face twisted in terror as he whipped around, as if searching for the invisible entity haunting him.

Jamie's stomach twisted, his blood running cold. The young man's frantic gaze, the trembling in his voice… it felt too familiar.

His eyes drifted to the date in the article's footer, his breath catching.

July 26, 2023. The same date the first player had returned from the simulation.

Jamie sat in his room, the quiet stillness of the night clinging to him like a shadow. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, a heavy tension settling in the air around him. The last time he'd seen Ebonshade in the Simulation, its grin had felt like a real threat—one that, somehow, hadn't stayed behind.

But that's impossible, right? he thought to himself, trying to dismiss the lingering image. Still, he decided it was best to start cataloging his thoughts.

"Alright, Ebonshade," Jamie murmured, grabbing a notepad. "Let's figure you out."

The first step, he figured, was observation. Ebonshade didn't move or attack like anything he'd seen before; it didn't behave like the typical enemies or obstacles in a game simulation. It seemed to… enjoy throwing him off, disrupting his memory and messing with his mind. Jamie tapped his pen against the paper, realizing that each time he tried to remember something specific about Ebonshade, the details slipped away, like sand through his fingers.

Jamie sat back, frustrated, tapping his pen against the notebook. "Why can't I remember half of what happened with you?" he muttered to himself, glancing at the scattered notes. He wasn't sure if the memory gaps were from his failed mission, the experience of dying, or if they were somehow linked to Ebonshade itself. Each theory felt just as likely—and just as maddeningly unprovable.

He squinted at the notepad, feeling the details he'd written already slipping from his mind. "Is this even going to work?" he muttered, glaring at the words on the page, half-expecting them to fade as he stared.

He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair, trying to consider any safe way to remember the entity's behaviors without thinking about it too hard. If Ebonshade could erase details from his memory just by him overthinking, then maybe he needed a less direct approach.

Jamie scratched a rough sketch of a shadowy figure on the corner of the page. No details. Just a blob. "You're a puzzle, Ebonshade. And I'm going to figure you out." The drawn figure seemed to grin back at him in the dim light.

Over the next hour, Jamie's room transformed into a makeshift research lab. He scoured forums online, looking for mentions of the Simulation's mechanics, character roles, and abilities. If there were other players experiencing this phenomenon, surely someone had talked about it online.

It was late into the night when Jamie stumbled upon a quiet, obscure forum hidden within layers of older threads and password-protected sections. The thread he found was titled: "Simulation Players – Share Your Experiences." It seemed genuine enough—active discussions, some verified by people who claimed to be returnees from the Simulation.

Jamie leaned forward, reading carefully. The first few posts were vague anecdotes—mentions of strange encounters, powers that users had struggled to control, and things that felt surreal even after returning.

But as he scrolled, certain terms kept popping up: Protagonist, Villain, Side Character, Extra. They were being discussed as "character roles," each with specific quirks and limitations that players seemed to recognize. He took notes, connecting pieces as he went.

The longer he read, the clearer the structure became. Players who entered the Simulation were assigned one fixed role at the start, and that role shaped their entire experience. Main characters/Protagonists seemed to have enhanced luck, often attracting allies or receiving unexpected assistance in tight situations.

Villains, on the other hand, had access to stronger, more destructive powers but faced constant opposition and distrust. Side Characters often carried unique knowledge or special support abilities, yet they were rarely the main players in any major event, easily overlooked.

And Extras—Jamie paused at that. Extras had the least power and significance, often needing to blend in and rely on wit to survive.

The pattern was clear. Each role affected how others perceived the player and dictated the kind of powers or resources available to them. He jotted down what he could glean from the scattered information:

• Protagonist: Tend to attract luck and allies. Often become focal points in events.

• Villains: Stronger abilities but frequent confrontations with Heroes and authorities. Often isolated.

• Side Characters: Supportive skills, crucial information bearers, but overlooked and limited in influence.

• Extras: The lowest rank. Few to no powers, reliant on cunning, often blending into the background.

Jamie's hand froze as he reached a comment further down the thread: "Each player gets one role assignment only. The system locks it in as soon as they enter." It was reinforced over and over, with each player confirming they had one role for their entire time in the Simulation.

"One role?" Jamie whispered to himself, glancing down at his own notes. He'd been toggling between roles—Extra and Villain, with access to multiple personas under each. He recalled his initial encounters in the Simulation, toggling between personas within these roles, using a mysterious skill labeled as Deck of Cards. As he scanned the thread, no one else mentioned anything similar. If toggling roles and personas was a standard mechanic, someone would have brought it up by now.

"So… I'm either alone in this, or it's a rare feature no one talks about." He wasn't sure which possibility unnerved him more. The system had given him a Deck of Cards with personas under each character role, yet no one else seemed to have experienced anything like it.

Then, another realization struck him: this Deck of Cards must be his ability—the thing that set him apart. Character role toggling wasn't just a mechanic; it was his ability. But what did it mean that the Simulation had given him an ability unlike anyone else's?

His mind spun with theories, and a tinge of fear crept in. What was this Simulation, and why would it allow him this rare—and possibly dangerous—freedom?

But still, Ebonshade stayed in his mind. Jamie returned to his online search, carefully typing in "Simulation apparition." Nothing relevant. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach. He tried a few variations, combing through every hit, but nothing useful came up.

He closed his laptop, leaning back and closing his eyes for a second, letting the silence of his room press in. "So it's just me," he whispered. "Just me with an invisible… ghost, or whatever you are." He tried to shrug it off, but unease wondered. Why did he keep seeing Ebonshade, both inside the Simulation and here, outside it?

Jamie glanced at his phone. How long until he'd be pulled back in? He couldn't tell, and that added to his anxiety. The Simulation wasn't working on a predictable schedule, and there was no telling what would come next.

A light knock on his door broke his focus.

"Jamie, Master Wentworth wants to see you in his office," called one of the maids.

He didn't respond but got up reluctantly, heading downstairs. Jamie entered the study to find his father, Charles Sr., sitting in his high-backed chair with an air of authority that filled the room. His half-brother Charlie Jr. lounged nearby, an arrogant smirk on his face. His mother, Sara, was there too, looking uneasy, and his stepmother Evelyn seemed as cool and indifferent as ever.

"Jamie," his father began, "I've decided it's best if you hand over the NextGen fundraising initiative to Charlie here." He motioned to Jamie's half-brother, who wore a triumphant grin.

Sara looked up, her brow furrowing in concern. "Charles, Jamie's been working hard on that."

Charlie smirked, leaning back. "I'm sure it won't be too hard to hand over. Right, Jamie?"

Jamie felt nothing, just the same steady emptiness that had defined so many family moments. To him, the fundraiser hadn't been about charity or kindness; it had been a test, an experiment to see if an act of goodwill could stir any strong feelings in him. So far, the answer had been a clear no. It was also a way to shut those tabloids up that called him an unfeeling psychopath, a cold robot. Although it had only worked for a season, they had gone back to trying to define him in their little blogs.

"Fine," Jamie said simply, his tone as flat as his emotions.

Sara's face fell, disappointment shadowing her features. Charlie and Evelyn exchanged a look of surprise—expecting, perhaps, a fight. But Jamie simply stood there, expression neutral.

Charles Sr. gave a curt nod, then leaned forward, his tone shifting. "Jamie, there's something else. I need you to look into… the Simulation." His words were heavy, as though he knew the weight they carried.

Jamie's pulse quickened slightly, but his face remained unreadable. Only his finger gave him away, a small twitch betraying his surprise.

"Understood," he replied, his tone calm. He turned and walked toward the door, suppressing the flurry of questions rising in his mind. His father had always been fixated on success and control, but the Simulation? What did he really know about it?

Jamie reached for the doorknob, and as he stepped out, a chill washed over him. The corridor had vanished, replaced by the grim, oppressive walls of the Simulation's prison. Shadows clung to every corner, and the air felt charged, as if holding its breath.

Then, the system's cold, detached voice echoed in his mind.

"Mission failed. One seal on the apparition Ebonshade has been released."

Jamie's heart skipped, the tension of the message sinking in.