PART ONE: Run Away To The Space

July is not a comfortable month in southern Vietnam. It is a part of summer, filled with boiling hot temperatures, lasting for all the month. And so does today. No clouds floating beyond, the sun just emits its light rays, turning all this area into a huge steamer. And as a result, fans, air conditioners or anything cooling have to work more. Followed by that is money. The electricity bill we had to pay for last month was extremely higher than usual, most of which is spent on the electric fans, therefore my mother has stopped me from touching them.

How fuckin' upset… I think about it while my hand is waving the paper fan, full of despair.

“Remember to lull your brother to sleep, he needs a nap at noon.” My mother, after changing her clothes, stands at the door and talks to me—lying flat on the sofa. “I have to go to your auntie's house now. If I don't come back in time, warm up the food for dinner, okay?”

I look up to the ceiling, feeling the dull pain grinding my head as well as the blazing sun out there—the reason making my headache more intense, then answer with the sound of a mosquito flying, “Yes…”

But my mother is still unsatisfied, maybe she doesn't hear me. It seems that my headache is a little bit more severe than yesterday, I don't know how many times she has told me. And as a result, she shouts, “Nguyệt Anh! Remember what I've just told you? Your auntie needs help today, your dad is in his professional training now and…”

“Yes, mom! I'll do that! I promise!” I answer, loudly. I am damn unpleasant now, the hotter it is, the crazier I am. However, on behalf of a filial son, I turn back from the sofa, nodding with a sweet smile, “I remember what you told me to do, mom!”

Then, by the time I hear that the sound of her motorbike is far enough, I immediately throw the useless fan aside, running to my room and turning on the computer. Of course, I don't forget to connect it with the internet and turn on the electric fan.

While waiting for the inferior quality device to stop flickering and begin lighting up, like any other computer screen, I come to the kitchen, put some ice in the water glass. No one knows about this stuff better than me, it hasn't started yet, so…

Well, okay, let's begin all this story with something brief.

Today I got cursed.

I am an eighteen-year-old student. The italic jawbreaker written above is my name, pronounced like ‘Gweet Ank’ with the first word heavier than the next one. Though it is absolutely feminine (which means ‘Moonlight’ in Vietnamese), I am a boy, biologically. Now I have already graduated from high school, passed the university's entrance examination and I'm going to attend an university in Saigon.

I have a friend, he is my classmate but preparing to go abroad to study at Yale University, because of his excellent academic achievements.

That is the starting point of everything.

Yale University is extremely well-known in my country, Vietnam. You know, it's so difficult to get the chance to study there. And as a result, when my friend revealed he will be one of Yale's students, everyone around him gets, magically, closer to him, including some guys that he doesn't know who the hell they're.

To show the interviewers that our class has a genius and we certainly love him so much, when my friend is still busy with the preparation for the trip abroad, my classmates suggest we should hold a farewell party for him. They really have a discussion. I joined, of course, nothing can deny my identity as a class member. But not so long after that, an argument arose between me and a fuckin' dunderhead—who was also my classmate—about the location problem.

I just told him, gently and full of sincerity, not to hold the party in an expensive karaoke bar, since we are all not old enough. Friends are one thing, but getting smashed to death by slippers is another-completely-distinct-problem.

But this guy, deserving the title dunderhead, refused my suggestion without hesitation, and even raised his middle finger at me.

Frankly, I told it from the bottom of my heart, and are the benefits for me only? This brat's mother—like any other Asian mothers—hates her son for not studying the most. We once saw her, with slippers from her feet, coming to our class and asking where the heck her son was (when he was magically absent from the classes to play video games). So what has given him the confidence that his mother won't throw one in his face, when she sees him singing like hell in a karaoke bar?

She did buy a pair of high heels for both physical and emotional damage, didn't she?

Unfortunately, what I received from him was just a finger pointing straight at my nose, “Who do you think you are? Just a weak numskull, not even capable of picking up a sesame seed but now shouting in this meeting as if you take the right to do that?”

Weak numskull? F*ck!

At that time, I was so angry, to the point I felt like I could vomit a blood puddle anytime. If I was any other boy, I would definitely stand up, “Battle royale, huh?” then punch at him as what a true man did when his strength got insulted.

But I held back, because I know I can't win.

Yeah, I am weak, like what he said. God knows the reason why I can't even take up anything heavier than five kilograms. My body gets weaker and weaker as well, and doctors say that I'm normal. But it's not the most crucial part there. I have another issue. Under no circumstances am I free from suffering my splitting headaches. It even becomes worse when I get something dirty or poisonous. And all of my classmates know it.

I can give him a punch in his face, but what will happen if this brat spits at me? It won't be a hygiene problem. Believe me, it means at least a month in the hospital, just to ease the weird pain torturing my head.

When he realized that I didn't blurt out a word, he said, “You are the same as a guy called Leo Pavilion in the game Sky Force, being fearful like hell anytime.” And when my classmates ask who ‘Leo Pavilion’ is, he explained, “Oh, a famous guy in the players' community. All the world calls him ‘legend’ but, in my view, he is nothing but a shy mouse.”

About his sayings, please let me repeat every single word with a slow and calm tone to show you how amazed I was.

“Two years ago, the Sky Force's publishing company gave him a fuckin' fancy title, ‘The Invincible King’ as a reward for his winning streak of ten thousand consecutive matches, and if he loses one, just one, he will lose the title as well.”

“You guys will never know that Leo Pavilion will turn off his computer to keep his title like a mouse!”

“Talented? Laugh my ass off! If I meet him once, I will definitely kill him at least ten times!”

Oh? His bravery truly amazed me. Ten times? Are you serious?

When the old computer is ready, I put a leg on the table, clicking on the spaceship icon on the screen. It automatically turns into the color of the starry sky, with a big title written with the cyberpunk style, before the operating system stops there for a while—an old computer never lets you go in time.

‘Sky Force.’

After a couple of minutes, a sentence shows up on the screen, highlighted in such a fancy way like the system wants to greet its old player. It's been a long time since the last time I saw it, so I can't hold back the smile when the speaker emits the woman's voice—which is designed for me only.

‘Welcome back, Leo Pavilion, the Invincible King.’

That's why my poor classmate should consider his words again.