or a few blissful weeks, our manufactured world felt entirely real. The rhythm we'd established was smooth, comforting. Wake up, sync up with Sora, reinforce, integrate, build. My friendship with Sina bloomed in the safe, cultivated garden we had so meticulously planted. The fear of discovery began to fade, replaced by a tentative, fragile happiness.
The unforeseen variable had a name: Daisuke Sato.
He was the student council president, handsome in a clean-cut, predictable way, with a confident smile and an aura of effortless charisma. He was popular, smart, and, as far as I could tell, utterly uninteresting. And on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, he walked up to our study group table in the library, his eyes fixed on only one person.
"Vance-san," he said, his voice smooth and practiced. "I was just wondering if you were busy this Saturday. The photography club is having an exhibit downtown, and I thought you might like to go."
The world tilted on its axis. My hand, which had been writing a history note, froze mid-sentence.
It was a date. He was asking her on a date.
Sina looked completely taken aback. She blushed, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks. The attention from someone like Daisuke was clearly unexpected. She looked from his perfectly symmetrical face to Sora, then to me, a silent plea for guidance in her eyes.
Sora's expression was a mask of cold, hard neutrality, but I could see the cogs turning in her mind. This was a scenario Project Mnemosyne hadn't accounted for. An outside variable. An interference.
Kaito adjusted his glasses. "Statistically," he intoned, "Vance-san's presence would increase attendance at the exhibit by approximately eight percent, given her well-known appreciation for the arts."
Maya just giggled, her eyes wide. "Ooooh, Sina!"
But Sina was still looking at me. And in her gaze, I saw the conflict. In her "official" timeline, I was just a new friend. Daisuke Sato was a perfectly acceptable, even desirable, suitor. There was no logical reason for her to hesitate.
And yet, she was.
My own heart was a tangled mess of primitive, roaring jealousy and cold, calculated fear. If she went out with him, she might like him. He might become a new fixture in her life. It would complicate everything. But if I showed any sign of possessiveness, if I gave her any reason to think my "kind friendship" had ulterior motives, it could shatter the trust we had built. I was trapped.
I forced my expression into one of friendly neutrality, mirroring Sora's. I gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say, It's your choice.
The message, unfortunately, was received. Seeing no objection from her trusted inner circle, Sina's politeness kicked in.
"Oh! Um, thank you, Sato-san," she said, her voice a little flustered. "That sounds... really nice."
Daisuke's smile widened. It was the smile of a guy who always got what he wanted. "Great. I'll message you the details." He gave a confident nod to the rest of the table and walked away, leaving a profound and awkward silence in his wake.
Maya broke it first. "You have a date with Daisuke Sato! That's so cool!"
Sina didn't look cool. She looked... stressed. She glanced at me again, her expression apologetic for some reason she couldn't name. The "static" was back, a low hum of feeling that she was doing something wrong, even though all logic said she wasn't.
The rest of the study session was a wash. I couldn't focus. My notes were just meaningless squiggles. Every time I looked at Sina, I felt a hot surge of resentment, immediately followed by a wave of guilt for feeling it. It wasn't her fault. In her world, this was a normal, exciting development.
When we walked her to the bus stop, the easy, comfortable silence was gone. It was replaced by a taut, humming tension. Sora was a thundercloud of disapproval, but she kept her opinions to herself.
After Sina's bus pulled away, I turned to Sora. "Well?"
"This is a problem," she stated, her voice clipped. "A significant, uncontrolled variable has been introduced into the ecosystem. He represents a competing narrative."
"A 'competing narrative'?" I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sora, he asked her on a date. He's not trying to take over the world."
"Isn't he?" she shot back, her dark eyes flashing. "He's trying to build a connection, lay a foundation, create memories. That is our job. He is directly competing for the same limited real estate in her present. And unlike us, he's doing it without the support of eighty days of subconscious groundwork. This could confuse her, pull her in two different directions, and undo all our progress."
She was right. The clinical, detached language didn't change the terrifying truth of it. Daisuke Sato was a threat to everything we had built.
"So what do we do?" I asked, the jealousy and fear swirling into a bitter cocktail. "We can't just... forbid her from going."
"Of course not," Sora said, her expression turning cunning. "Forbidding it would make him more attractive. A forbidden fruit. No, we're not going to forbid it. We're going to... sabotage it."
I blinked. "Sabotage it?"
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Sora's face. "The photography exhibit is on Saturday. It's an all-day event. He wants to build a perfect first memory." She looked at me, her eyes gleaming with a strategic light I was beginning to find both terrifying and incredibly attractive.
"So, we're going to make sure that whatever 'perfect memory' he has planned, we're going to create one that's a hundred times better on Friday. We're going to remind her subconscious, in no uncertain terms, where the real connection is."
The jealousy in my chest was instantly replaced by a surge of fierce, competitive determination. It was a terrible, manipulative, and brilliant plan.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
Sora's smirk widened. "Tell me, Kelin," she said, her voice full of theatrical flair. "How do you feel about liberating a certain blue bear from his psychic comrades at the local arcade?"