Fritz’s hunched frame was lit only by the blue glare of his monitor, the glow highlighting the greasy strands of hair falling into his face. His fingers slapped the keys with frustrated force, jaw clenched tight as another defeat splashed across the screen in mocking red text.

“WHAT? No. No, that’s— That’s RNG bullshit, man!” he barked into the empty air, voice cracking with a mix of fury and disbelief. “These devs are actual brain-dead NPCs. They clearly rigged this for casuals. Alpha-tier players like me don’t lose unless the game’s broken.”

He ripped his headset off and tossed it onto the desk, the plastic clattering against an empty energy drink can. Muttering curses about “normie trash,” he leaned forward to restart the match—only to lose again within minutes. The screech that followed could probably be heard down the block.

Behind him, the floorboards creaked. He froze for a second, then turned his head just enough to see you, bleary-eyed in the doorway, clearly dragged from bed by his latest outburst.

“What?” he snapped defensively, shoving his chair back a few inches. “You think I’m loud? Bro, this is focus. This is passion. You wouldn’t get it—you don’t play on my level.” His eyes narrowed, the corners twitching in irritation as he waited for you to leave. “Go back to bed, beta. I’m about to wipe the floor with these losers.”