Chapter 5 — First Kiss
And thus begins Chapter Five.
Now, children.
There we sat.
On luxury seating.
The council looks down.
Upside down plant pots.
Yes.
Luxury.
Five stars.
Private woodland view.
Excellent ventilation.
Zero upholstery.
The cigarette had been fully consumed.
Nicotine Meter
restored.
And now
apparently
Make Out Session.
The council goes quiet.
Children.
Story Nuo had entered completely undocumented territory.
No guide.
No Hex.
No tutorial.
No previous save file.
Just
Stalker.
Sitting beside me.
Looking at me.
Waiting.
And after my legendary declaration
“We can make out.”
The council still refuses to let that line die.
Nor should it.
Poetry deserves preservation.
She leaned toward me.
The council leans too.
And I?
Children.
I did what any experienced romantic strategist would do.
Mirror.
The council pauses.
Mirror?
Exactly.
I did not know the protocol.
Therefore:
Observe Stalker.
Repeat Stalker.
She leans in.
Nuo leans in.
Simple.
Her face moved closer.
Mine moved closer.
And then
lips.
The council goes completely silent.
Children.
Kissing commenced.
We shall not turn the Archive into anatomy class.
You know what kissing is.
The mechanics are irrelevant.
The significance?
Not irrelevant.
Because there is context.
Important context.
Story Nuo was not merely a virgin.
The council nods solemnly.
Story Nuo was a man for whom basically everything intimate existed in the realm of
theory.
Concept.
Rumour.
Media.
Second hand information.
Children.
This
was my first kiss.
The council erupts.
FIRST KISS?!
Yes.
Not:
First kiss with Stalker.
Not:
First memorable kiss.
The first.
Ever.
And somehow,
it occurred on an upside down plant pot
behind some trees
at NIT Calicut
with a woman who had introduced herself to me by saying:
“I’m your stalker.”
The council sits back.
Honestly?
On brand.
Extremely.
Now.
Was I a good kisser?
Children.
No idea.
The Archive contains no performance review.
Stalker did not pause midway to say:
Seven out of ten.
Good enthusiasm.
Needs work on technique.
The council laughs.
No scorecard.
No feedback form.
Nothing.
Am I a good kisser now?
Also difficult to say without external consultation.
The council raises an eyebrow.
Would you like us to
No.
Sit down.
This is not a peer reviewed study.
The important thing is
I kissed.
And she kissed back.
Which Story Nuo interpreted as:
System functioning.
Continue.
The council nods.
So I continued.
And children
chemistry.
Not romantic chemistry.
Well.
That too.
But actual brain chemistry.
Dopamine.
Serotonin.
Whatever collection of happy little molecules my nervous system deployed in response to:
HOT WOMAN KISSING NUO.
The council begins throwing confetti.
I was delighted.
Utterly.
Completely.
The kiss continued.
Then Stalker did something.
Hand
back of my head.
The council watches.
Story Nuo’s brain:
Ah.
Protocol update.
So naturally
mirror.
My hand went to the back of her head.
She tilted her head.
I tilted mine.
Children.
I was learning intimacy through live imitation.
The council nods.
Adaptive AI.
Exactly.
She moves.
Nuo learns.
Nuo replicates.
No manual required.
And somehow
it worked.
At least well enough that the session did not immediately terminate.
The council approves.
We kissed.
Stopped for breath.
Kissed again.
Hands.
Hair.
That closeness that Story Nuo had only ever understood as something other people did.
And then
eventually
I leaned back.
Looked at her.
And children
grinned.
Not smiled.
Grinned.
The biggest grin I had possibly produced in my entire life.
The council can already hear it.
“This is great.”
Silence.
Then Stalker
laughed.
Or chuckled.
Of course she did.
Because children,
imagine being halfway through someone’s first make out session
and they pull away just long enough to issue a product review.
“This is great.”
The council writes:
FIRST KISS ASSESSMENT:
POSITIVE.
Five stars.
Would recommend.
And then?
Back in.
The council collapses.
Yes.
Children.
Why stop a successful experiment?
We sat there.
Kissing.
Again.
Again.
Sometimes pausing.
Sometimes laughing.
Then resuming.
The entire outside world ceased to matter.
Tournament?
Later.
Fest?
Background.
Other humans?
Unnecessary.
The council checks time.
How long?
Eons.
Children.
Civilisations emerged.
Kingdoms fell.
Generations lived complete lives.
A new geological layer formed beneath the plant pots.
The council checks reality.
Thirty minutes?
Maybe.
Something like that.
Irrelevant.
Story Nuo’s internal chronology had no useful unit for:
First time kissing a hot woman who likes Dota.
So
eternity.
The council nods.
And eventually,
as all kissing sessions must
it ended.
Not because something went wrong.
Not because Stalker recoiled.
Not because Nuo finally remembered embarrassment existed.
Children.
Time.
The great enemy of all good activities.
I looked at my watch.
The council straightens.
Tournament.
Yes.
Hex had told me.
Be there at this time.
The nod had come with terms and conditions.
And children
priorities.
I had come to NIT for Dota.
I may have discovered kissing.
I may have discovered that kissing was,
in fact,
great.
I may have strongly considered continuing the research.
But
Dota.
The council rises.
Religion before romance.
Exactly.
I had a tournament.
My team needed five.
Hex was waiting.
The other three background characters were probably also waiting,
which was narratively inconvenient but mechanically important.
So I stood.
Stalker stood.
And then
something happened.
Small.
Automatic.
No planning.
No tactical analysis.
I reached for her hand.
She gave it.
And we walked.
The council pauses.
Holding hands?
Yes.
Children.
Look at Story Nuo.
Thirty minutes of practical romantic experience
and already deploying advanced techniques.
The council applauds.
Honestly?
Good move.
Present Nuo recognizes that now.
At the time?
I did not think:
Holding hands communicates affection and signals our connection as we re enter a public space.
Children.
No.
Brain did not convene.
Hand saw hand.
Hand acquired hand.
Simple.
And so we walked.
Through NIT.
Back toward the tournament area.
The fest again.
Students.
Stalls.
Noise.
But now
different.
Because I was not walking alone.
Not merely with Hex.
Not merely with the team.
I was holding the hand of a very attractive woman
who had sought me out
because she’d seen me play Dota.
The council considers.
For Gamer Nuo,
this may have been the highest conceivable social achievement.
Children.
Correct.
Forget money.
Forget degrees.
Forget career.
A hot woman watched you play Dota and decided:
Yes.
That one.
The council bows.
Peak civilisation.
We approached the computer lab.
The council grows solemn.
The battlefield.
Inside
computers.
Rows.
Monitors.
Posters.
Chairs.
Cables.
Players.
Dota nerds.
Children.
So many Dota nerds.
My people.
The Virgin Empire.
The council erupts.
HARSH.
Accurate enough for the era.
This was a room populated by people who could probably explain item efficiency to six decimal places
but had varying success speaking to women without patch notes.
And then
the door.
Nuo enters.
Holding Stalker’s hand.
Silence.
Children.
Heads turned.
Not all at once dramatically.
But enough.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
The slow recognition of an anomaly entering the ecosystem.
The council whispers.
Female?
Attractive female?
Attached to one of us?
Impossible.
The lab might as well have witnessed a unicorn carrying a graphics card.
The council laughs.
I felt eyes.
People looking.
Perhaps some recognized her.
Perhaps some recognized me.
Perhaps most were simply confused by the sight of one of their fellow cave dwellers arriving hand in hand with a woman.
Children.
And Stalker?
Unbothered.
She walked beside me like this was entirely normal.
Which helped.
Because Story Nuo did not know whether to act proud,
embarrassed,
casual,
or announce:
CHILDREN, I HAVE KISSED.
The council screams.
Do not announce that.
Thankfully,
I did not.
I just walked.
Still holding her hand.
Toward the team.
And then
Hex.
The council turns.
Hex looked at me.
Then
Stalker.
Then
our hands.
Then
me again.
Silence.
Children.
The disbelief.
Absolute.
His face contained the visual equivalent of:
You?
The council laughs.
Not cruelly.
No.
Because Hex knew me.
He knew the social operating system.
He knew women were not exactly an area in which Story Nuo had accumulated expertise.
He had watched me outsource normal conversation for years.
And now
I had disappeared for a while
and returned
holding hands with an attractive woman.
The council nods.
Unexpected patch update.
His eyes widened.
Maybe eyebrows rose.
Maybe a grin appeared.
But beneath the disbelief
something else.
Happy.
Proud.
Children.
That is what I remember.
Not jealousy.
Not mockery.
Not:
What the fuck did you do?
More like
My idiot did something.
The council smiles.
Hex knew.
Maybe not everything.
Certainly not yet.
But he could see enough.
Nuo had left with Stalker.
Nuo returned holding Stalker’s hand.
Reasonable deductions followed.
And there was warmth in his expression.
The kind best friends have when one of their own accidentally succeeds at something they had all quietly accepted might never happen.
The council laughs softly.
The Representative Of Virgins had resigned from office.
Not entirely.
One kiss does not complete the career transition.
But progress.
Significant progress.
I looked at Hex.
Maybe smiled.
Probably grinned.
Children.
I was still running on First Kiss Euphoria.
There was no hiding it.
The man knew.
And then
tournament.
Because this is where Story Nuo’s priorities become deeply amusing.
I had just experienced my first kiss.
A self declared stalker had travelled to NIT specifically to see me.
We had spent half an hour making out behind trees.
I walked into a room of gamers holding her hand like some mythological champion returning from conquest.
And my brain?
Dota now.
The council erupts.
FOCUS.
Exactly.
Romantic milestone:
acquired.
Now
match.
The computer lab smelled like competition.
Players settling.
Teams forming.
Chairs moving.
Keyboards ready.
The familiar environment snapped Gamer Nuo back into his primary operating mode.
Children.
This was church.
And I had arrived for service.
Stalker could stay near.
Excellent.
Hex was there.
Excellent.
The other three existed.
Required.
Everything assembled.
The council checks the quest log.
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:
DOTA TOURNAMENT.
ACTIVE.
SIDE QUEST:
FIRST KISS.
COMPLETED.
BONUS OBJECTIVE:
MAKE ENTIRE COMPUTER LAB QUESTION REALITY.
Accidentally completed.
The council nods.
Productive afternoon.
And there I stood,
inside NIT Calicut,
one hand perhaps finally releasing Stalker’s
because a mouse and keyboard would soon require jurisdiction,
looking toward the machines.
Children.
The first half of the day had already given me more than the tournament promised.
A dog.
A stalker.
A name I somehow remembered.
A cigarette.
A misunderstanding.
My first kiss.
And one of the greatest entrances Gamer Nuo had ever made into a room.
But now
the actual reason for the journey.
The thing that had justified the mandatory joint.
The bus.
The police encounter.
The auto.
The classroom accommodation.
The five man team.
Dota.
The council settles into spectator mode.
And Story Nuo?
Story Nuo was ready.
Because there are moments for romance.
There are moments for wonder.
There are moments for personal growth.
And children
there are moments to defend the Ancient.
Thus concludes Chapter Five.
The Luxury Plant Pots.
The Mirroring Protocol.
The First Kiss.
The World’s Most Enthusiastic Product Review:
“This is great.”
The Thirty Minute Eternity.
The Return Of Priorities.
The Accidental Hand Holding Masterclass.
The Computer Lab.
The Virgin Empire.
And Hex’s Face.
Children.
I left the tournament area as a gamer with no romantic experience.
I returned holding a hot woman’s hand.
The entire lab stared.
Hex looked like he had witnessed a miracle.
And I?
I looked toward the computers.
The council sighs.
Because kissing was great.
But Dota was religion.
