You wake in your room above the chai stall. The world is... muffled. Like a memory wrapped in cotton. Time has obeyed the Silent Kahwa. Samar is gone. Chiku is gone. Even your reflection feels distant.
But the keychain still clinks softly. One charm pulses faintly—a lotus made of mirror glass.
You find the next recipe hidden in a place you never expected: your own handwriting, inside an old diary you don't remember writing.
"Phantom Chai"1 bay leaf, 2 dried hibiscus petals, steeped while whispering a name you've never said aloud.
You brew the tea, heart trembling. The name comes out on its own: "Amara."
You don't know her. Or… you should. Because the moment you sip, you tumble into a timeline where you were never the tea girl. You were a musician. A rebel. A myth. And Amara was the sister you lost in a riot that never happened in your real past—but haunts this phantom life.
In this world, Samar never pursued tea. He played violin with you in rooftop bands and wore rebellion like jasmine behind his ear.
You start to remember everything you could have been. But then the keychain tugs again—this isn't your true timeline. Stay too long and this world will overwrite you.
And just as the skyline begins to warp around you, Chiku cracks through the haze—tattered, tired, and real. "You left the game, girl. But it never left you."