Morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Rhea Mehra's dorm suite, casting golden rectangles across her rumpled silk sheets. She lay sprawled on her back with one arm thrown over her eyes. Her body still hummed with the residual ache of her birthday night—a constant thrumming reminder of Suyash Shrivastav:
Suyash.
The name alone made her stomach clench. He'd left her a note: "Breakfast is on the terrace. Stay as long as you like." No number. No promises." Just that maddening, infuriating calm. It was as if taking her virginity in a threesome was just another Tuesday night for him.
She hated him.
Yet she couldn't stop thinking about him.
The wall-mounted screen automatically switched to the news channel—a habit she'd picked up from her father's household, where staying informed was a weapon. A polished anchorwoman with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper smile was mid-segment.
"In tech news today, the world's first fully immersive, open-world virtual reality game has entered its exclusive beta testing phase right here in India. Neon Bay, created by reclusive tech visionary Suyash Shrivastav, is being hailed as a quantum leap in interactive entertainment."
Rhea sat up so fast her head spun.
On the screen, footage played of a neon-drenched cityscape: palm trees silhouetted against purple and orange skies; vintage sports cars cruising down oceanfront boulevards; and nightclubs pulsing with music and light. It looked like Miami filtered through a fever dream: chrome, pastels, and dangerous glamour.
And there, in a brief clip from a press conference, was Suyash Shrivastav.
Suyash Shrivastav. He was dressed in a black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. He stood behind a podium with the relaxed confidence of a man who owned everything in sight. He explained something about "haptic feedback" and "neural immersion" while the camera lingered on his sharp jaw and dark, watchful eyes.
Rhea's breath caught.
The owner of the island. The game's creator. The man who took my virginity and left me breakfast.
"It is available exclusively to residents and guests of Suyash Island during the beta phase. The university has already set up access through its recreation center, and students have been flocking to try it out. Early reviews are calling it 'addictive,' 'revolutionary,' and 'the future of social interaction.'"
Rhea grabbed her phone.
The campus chat groups were exploding.
Maya: Did you guys try Neon Bay yet? I spent three hours customizing my avatar.
Tanya: It's insane! The graphics are so realistic that I forgot I was in a game! Also, I may have started a street racing crew.
Neha: The nightclub district is everything! Rhea, you need to get on here! You'd literally rule this place.
Rhea's thumbs hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to ask if anyone had seen Suyash in the game—whether he played or watched—but that would reveal too much. But that would reveal too much. She was Rhea Mehra. She didn't need anyone.
Instead, she typed: "I'll check it out. Don't start any wars without me."
—
The university's recreation center, a sleek, glass-walled building, was near the heart of campus. Inside, rows of state-of-the-art VR immersion pods lined the walls like futuristic coffins—sleek, white capsules with tinted visors and plush interior padding. Students came and went, some laughing and comparing notes while others were quiet and focused, still lost in the afterglow of their sessions.
Rhea signed in at the reception desk; her student ID granted her instant access. The attendant, a bored-looking graduate student, barely glanced up.
"First time?"
"Yes."
"Pod seven is free. Lie down, put on the headset, and let the system guide you." Sessions max out at four hours for health reasons. Any questions?"
Rhea shook her head and walked toward pod seven.
She climbed into the capsule and lay back. The warm, surprisingly comfortable padding molded to her body. She placed the visor over her eyes and the outside world disappeared.
—
"Welcome to Neon Bay."
A smooth, genderless voice came from everywhere at once. Rhea found herself standing in a pure white void that was infinite and disorienting.
Before entering the city, you must create your identity. Who will you be in Neon Bay?
A mirror materialized before her. In it, she saw herself—Rhea Mehra in her dorm clothes, looking slightly rumpled and uncertain. The reflection shifted and shimmered, then offered options.
Choose your path:
Options flickered around her like holographic cards:
Legitimate Business Mogul: Build an empire through hotels, clubs, and real estate.
· Underground Kingpin: Control the streets through crews, rackets, and influence.
· Street Racer: Live fast, drive faster, and own the night.
· Club Owner: Rule the nightlife, from velvet ropes to backroom deals.
· Custom Path: Forge your own destiny.
Rhea didn't hesitate. She reached for "Club Owner" and then, with a smirk, selected "Custom Path" as well. She wasn't going to be pigeonholed. She was going to be everything.
Choose your appearance.
The mirror shifted again. Her reflection began to change—she became taller, sharper, and more dangerous. With instinctive precision, she adjusted the sliders: crimson lips, cat-like eyes lined with kohl, and high cheekbones that could cut glass. Her hair became a cascade of dark waves with blood-red tips. Her already toned body became more exaggerated with fuller curves, longer legs, and an hourglass silhouette that demanded attention.
She dressed her avatar in a tailored crimson blazer with a lace bralette underneath, high-waisted trousers that hugged her hips, and stiletto heels that could double as weapons. Gold chains glinted at her throat and wrists. She wore a single ruby stud in her nose.
Choose your name.
She thought for a moment. Her father's name was legendary. Her own name carried weight. But here, in this neon-drenched fantasy, she could be anyone. Anyone.
Scarlet.
The name appeared in elegant script beneath her reflection. Simple. Dangerous. Unforgettable.
Welcome to Neon Bay, Scarlet.
The void shattered.
—
Rhea—Scarlet—opened her eyes to a breathtaking city.
She stood on a rooftop terrace overlooking a sprawling coastal metropolis. Palm trees lined the boulevards below, their fronds catching the neon glow of a thousand signs. Vintage convertibles cruised past art deco hotels painted in pastels and gold. In the distance, the ocean glittered under a sky that shifted from violet to amber to deep indigo—perpetual twilight, the golden hour frozen in time.
Music drifted up from somewhere—a sultry, slow saxophone solo mixing with the distant thrum of bass from a nightclub. The air smelled of salt, jasmine, and something metallic, like ozone after a storm.
A notification chimed in her peripheral vision:
You have been granted a starter property: The Crimson Lounge — a modest nightclub in the Marina District. Build your empire from here."
Rhea looked out over the neon-drenched city. Somewhere in this sprawling digital paradise, other players were carving out their own territories: Students from her university. Guests from the resort. They were all competing, collaborating, and conquering.
And behind the code and the lights, Suyash Shrivastav had built all of this.
She smiled—a sharp, dangerous smile that matched her avatar's crimson lips.
"Let's see what this city is made of," she murmured.
She turned and walked toward the rooftop door, her stilettos clicking against the tiles. Below, the Crimson Lounge waited. The Marina District hummed with possibility. Neon Bay was hers for the taking.
The game had begun.
—