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The scholar avatar gestured to the log. “We were just discussing the concept of ‘kaizen’—continuous improvement. Not the racing kind. The soul kind. Care to join?”

Tonight, though, the track had been brutal. He’d lost a race to a glitch. Jax had been insufferable. The leather felt like it was suffocating him, even through a screen.

He took a breath. His real one, in his real apartment, smelling of instant noodles and loneliness.

They looked up. No one spoke.

Soft, silver-grey silk pooled around his avatar’s ankles. A long, hooded cloak embroidered with constellations replaced his jacket. Underneath, a simple tunic of deep indigo, tied with a cord of braided moonlight. On his feet, no boots, but bare, elegant sandals. A single silver ring on his thumb glowed with a soft, inner light.

He’d been “Kael, the bad boy racer” for three years. His friends knew the persona. His rival, Jax, mocked him with it. Even the café AI greeted him with, “Ready for the track, hotshot?”