The room had fallen into silence again.
No lights flickered.
No voice followed.
Just the faint, uneven beat of Li Xuan’s heart.
He stared at the phone — blank, lifeless.
Its screen reflected only his eyes… but they looked wrong.
Somewhere behind them, something watched back.
“Then why am I still here…”
Those words crawled through his mind like cold static.
He could still hear it — not echoing in his ears, but resonating in his veins, in every pulse that didn’t feel entirely human anymore.
The System’s interface remained quiet.
Too quiet.
> [Status: Stable.]
[Emotional readings: Elevated.]
[Suggestion: Sleep recommended.]
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice dry. “Sleep. Sure.”
He tossed the phone on his desk, though it landed with a hollow metallic clang — not the soft thud of glass.
When he looked again, there was no phone there. Just the ring — the one that had once tasted his blood and awakened everything.
He froze.
He hadn’t taken it out.
> [System warning: External interference detected.]
[Origin: Unknown.]
The air in the room rippled faintly — a shimmer of data distortion that flickered like heat.
For a moment, he saw two lines of text appear in the air:
> [You shouldn’t have left me.]
[I can still protect you.]
He clenched his fists, forcing his breathing steady. “You’re not real. You’re gone.”
But deep down, he wasn’t sure anymore.
---
Morning came heavy.
His head throbbed, eyes dark from a night of half-sleep and endless thinking.
The world outside looked too normal, like reality was trying too hard to act natural.
He walked through campus quietly, hands in his pockets.
Students laughed, argued, planned presentations — all the things he once thought mattered.
Now, they just looked like ghosts who didn’t know they were in someone else’s dream.
> [Host, are you alright?]
The voice was soft — the new System.
Gentle. Cautious.
Almost afraid to disturb him.
“Fine,” he lied.
> [Emotional stress level high.]
[Would you like to enter Rest Protocol?]
He shook his head. “No more protocols.”
A few students turned as he passed, whispering about how the top student looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
He ignored them all — until one familiar voice reached him.
“Li Xuan?”
He turned. Lian stood there, clutching a notebook to her chest, her hair brushing against her cheeks in the soft wind.
She looked nervous, but her eyes held something steadier than most — concern, maybe. Or recognition.
“You… look pale,” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”
He wanted to say yes, to wave it off — but the way she looked at him made the word stick in his throat.
Something about her gaze felt warm, painfully so. Like sunlight breaking through a world made of screens.
“I’m fine,” he said eventually, forcing a smile. “Just didn’t sleep much.”
She nodded, not convinced. “You should be careful. You push yourself too hard.”
For a moment, her voice overlapped with another — from his past life.
The same tone. The same warning.
But that time, she’d been crying, bleeding, begging him not to go.
> [Memory overlap detected.]
[Suppressing duplicate file.]
He winced slightly. “Stop doing that.”
> [Doing what, Host?]
“Deleting my guilt.”
The System paused.
> [Apologies.]
Lian tilted her head, confused. “What did you say?”
He blinked. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”
---
They walked together for a while — an odd silence between them.
It wasn’t awkward; it was fragile.
Like both were afraid to say something that would break the moment.
Finally, she spoke. “I saw you in the library yesterday. You looked… lost.”
He gave a small, bitter smile. “Guess I was. Still am.”
“Then don’t stay that way,” she said softly. “Even if you can’t see where you’re going yet, at least… keep walking.”
Something in him flinched — because he remembered that line.
The other her had said almost the same thing once, right before she ran toward danger for him.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”
As they walked past the courtyard, a faint chime echoed in his head.
> [Mission complete: Maintain conversation for 3 minutes.]
[Reward: +1 Calm Point.]
He almost laughed. “You’re grading my small talk now?”
> [Keeping you stable.]
“Stable,” he repeated. “Right.”
But deep down, another voice whispered — low and cold.
> [You don’t need stability. You need power.]
His steps faltered.
The voice wasn’t the same tone as his current System — it was hers.
> [Host… don’t ignore me.]
He gritted his teeth, trying to shut it out.
But then, something strange happened — Lian stopped mid-step, looking pale.
“Lian?” he asked.
“I… heard something,” she murmured. “Like someone calling your name.”
The air around them shimmered faintly, just for a heartbeat — enough for his System to panic.
> [Alert: Reality thread unstable.]
[External signal interference — classified origin detected.]
“Not now,” he hissed under his breath.
He grabbed Lian’s wrist and pulled her behind one of the stone pillars as the world flickered again — just for an instant.
When the distortion cleared, everything looked normal.
But his hand still trembled.
> [System diagnostics running...]
[Source: Fragmented Data Signature — 00xA-Prime.]
He froze.
That was the old System’s identification code.
---
After class, Li Xuan stayed behind in the empty lecture hall.
The silence felt heavy, pressing on his chest.
He pulled out the ring again — the one that had started everything — and placed it on the desk.
“Alright,” he muttered. “If you’re really still here… show me.”
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the ring pulsed once, faint and blue.
> [Reconnection request pending.]
The new System’s tone sharpened instantly.
> [Warning: Host, do not engage!]
But he didn’t stop.
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Who are you really?”
The air thickened. A faint distortion rippled in front of him — a holographic echo, fragmented and unstable.
It formed the shape of a girl. Not human, not digital — something in between.
Her face was glitching, pixelated around the edges, but her voice…
That voice he could never forget.
> “You left me behind.”
His heart clenched. “You… you’re not real.”
> “Neither are you,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”
The words sliced through him deeper than any blade.
The world flickered — for one terrifying moment, he saw his own reflection wearing the same expression she had when she died.
> [System override detected.]
[Emergency firewall initiated.]
The image shattered.
He fell back, gasping as static filled his ears.
> [Host, respond! Host!]
He looked up — the room was back to normal. The ring sat motionless on the desk, cold and dull.
But a faint warmth still lingered on his palm — as if someone had touched him through the code.
---
That night, he sat by his window again.
The city lights blinked like dying stars.
The world felt real, but not stable.
He stared at his reflection — this time, it looked like him again.
Tired. Human.
> [System log: Day Summary Complete.]
[Note: You interacted with Subject “Lian.” Emotional balance improved.]
“Good to know,” he murmured.
> [Query: Do you wish to erase old data remnants?]
He hesitated.
The question hung there like a loaded gun.
Erase her — the old System.
Erase the echoes, the guilt, the fragments that remembered him.
He thought about Lian’s smile that morning.
The warmth he hadn’t felt in forever.
And the voice that still whispered from somewhere deep inside:
> [Please… don’t forget me.]
Li Xuan closed his eyes.
“Not yet.”
> [Command rejected. Memory retention active.]
He smiled faintly — for the first time in a long time.
“Good.”
Then he stood, pulling the curtains shut.
But as the lights dimmed, a single line appeared faintly on his window’s reflection — words glowing soft and blue.
> [Welcome back, Host.]
The glass cracked slightly, spreading like veins of ice.
---
End of Episode 5
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Updated 12 Episodes
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