A wave of heroic action to save the damsel, followed by a dramatic cloak-fluttering exit—Beatrix couldn't help but feel that this job was unbelievably cool.
In the past, he'd really enjoyed superhero games, especially DC's Batman and Marvel's Spider-Man.
Both franchises let you roam freely through massive open worlds as superheroes. You could follow the main story—or just swing or glide around, stop crimes as you see them, and simulate a true superhero lifestyle.
Of course, no matter how immersive those games were, they were never this immersive.
This game wasn't just realistic—it felt real.
In his previous life, Beatrix had seen countless injustices online. Every time he read about something unfair, he would get just as outraged as everyone else—but it never mattered.
And honestly? If those same things had happened right in front of him, Beatrix figured he probably would've just stood there and pretended not to see.
Most people were like that.
They might feel righteous watching a hero show up—but the best they could do was rage on the internet afterward. Very few actually had the guts to stand up in real life.
But now… things were different.
Now, he had power.
It's easy to be passionate online—type a few angry words, post a meme, hit "send," and pretend you're doing something meaningful.
But everyone knows: when the right person does something, the effect is completely different.
The same goes for fighting evil.
There are people who are meant to bring justice.
If Beatrix tried to take down some thug using his own body, even if he won, he'd still get side-eyed—and maybe the thug would come back with friends, or try to sue him.
But Batman?
Batman is 1.88 meters of pure intimidation.
His face screams "Don't mess with me."
He doesn't kill, but everything short of that is fair game.
Criminals who run into him have nightmares for months.
Meanwhile, Beatrix gets to sit back and stay uninvolved.
After all, Batman is the one on the news, not him.
And Beatrix reaps the benefits.
Take today: after taking down a group of attackers, the game rewarded him with 12 Hero Points—seven for defeating enemies, and five for maintaining stealth throughout the mission.
Just now, a smoke bomb dropped, Beatrix slammed the left mouse button, and Batman shredded through the enemies with a flawless combo.
The entire battle was one-sided.
The enemies didn't even land a single counterattack.
Which made sense—
Batman might be called a "normal human," but everyone knows that's nonsense.
He's long surpassed any real-world human limits.
If some random thug ever actually managed to land a punch on Batman, that would be a glitch.
---
Beatrix was starting to understand the game's core mechanics.
In short: control a superhero, beat up bad guys, earn Hero Points, and unlock new heroes or gear.
Simple. Effective.
But he realized something important—
If he had to go out every single night as a superhero just to grind points, then that would get old fast.
Because this wasn't Gotham.
Where were you supposed to find that many criminals?
In Gotham, Monday and Thursday there's someone robbing city hall.
Tuesday and Friday the whole city gets poisoned.
Sunday? Maybe an alien shows up.
That city's chaos is a game designer's dream.
Batman's life is never boring—and he levels up fast.
But this world wasn't Gotham.
There were no madmen, no evil plots, no constant crimes.
So how was Beatrix supposed to level up?
Rescue kittens from trees?
Help old ladies cross the street?
Wait—that's Superman's job.
That's what Beatrix originally thought—
But reality proved otherwise.
Because the moment he started patrolling the city with Batman, all kinds of events started popping up.
A man robbing a jewelry store with his face covered.
A stalker following a woman late at night.
A thief trying to jack a tram.
Turns out this world wasn't so peaceful after all.
And what struck Beatrix the most—was how easily people here snapped.
Just a little bump in the street, and a fistfight would break out.
---
It wasn't until after 1 a.m. that Beatrix—exhausted, eyes drooping—finally logged off.
He hadn't done much physically. Just sat in a chair, clicking and typing.
Yet he felt like he'd just completed an entire day of military training.
He didn't even undress. Just collapsed into bed and passed out instantly.
---
When he woke up—
The sun was shining.
Still half-asleep, he reached for his phone.
11:30 a.m.
Morning class? Already marked as attended by default.
Only then did Beatrix realize—
He'd been so focused on the game yesterday, he didn't check his phone all night.
And apparently, during that time, his classmates had been freaking out about the incident from earlier that day.
His friend Alex had even sent a few messages, asking if he was okay.
Beatrix quickly replied: "I'm fine."
Then stretched and got out of bed.
But the moment his feet hit the floor—
Pain exploded through his whole body.
He nearly fell.
It was like his muscles had been shredded.
Every movement felt like torture.
It was the kind of ache you get after doing a full day of intense workouts.
But Beatrix hadn't done any of that.
He hadn't even left his chair.
What the hell was going on?
That's when he remembered the game.
He'd spent all night controlling Batman—jumping from rooftops, fighting thugs, running through the city.
Could it be…
Was the game physically affecting his real body?
He thought about it more.
It wasn't just fatigue.
Despite the soreness—he actually felt… stronger.
More energized. More alert.
Even his posture felt better. His back, straighter than usual.
But if he didn't move at all yesterday, how was that possible?
Could controlling the hero in-game be training his real body somehow?
No way.
That was insane.
And yet—his body said otherwise.
Beatrix didn't have proof, but his gut told him:
This was real.
Of course, it wasn't a perfect system.
If all that soreness was caused by playing for just one night, then it clearly came with a cost.
He couldn't overdo it.
He'd need to manage his usage of heroes. There was no telling what might happen if he kept pushing.
Still…
One night of play, and his strength had already improved noticeably.
Forget the gym.
Forget diets.
This was a shortcut to power.
---
Wincing from the pain, Beatrix hobbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
But just as he applied the toothpaste—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
He froze, confused.
Spat the paste, peeked through the peephole—
And froze again.
Standing at his door was a woman.
Tall. Curvy. Dressed like a character from a sci-fi spy film.
Aurelia.
The same agent from yesterday.
She gave a cheeky wave and smiled:
"Hello, big brother. Long time no see."