The first thing I felt when I woke up in the cell was peace.
Not a natural kind of peace, and certainly not the kind that helps you rest.
But peace, nonetheless.
Different from the dream where my head had flown off, this was… much better.
The white light was too soft, too steady, illuminating the space with a warmth that felt engineered—like someone had fine-tuned the brightness specifically so I wouldn't startle.
The temperature was perfect.
The air had no smell. I wasn't cold or hot.
If not for the smooth stone floor and the tight space, the place almost didn't feel like a prison. It was almost… welcoming.
Safe.
Too safe.
For a few seconds, I genuinely believed I was safe.
I moved slowly. I still had flashes of something that hadn't happened, memories I had never lived.
Blood.
Josh's dead weight crushing me.
Mei's face falling backward with no body to hold it.
Raul's last laugh turning into a wet choke.
"I must be hallucinating."
It felt like I'd slipped into a space between two lives.
The cell had no bars, no window, no bed—nothing. Just smooth, flawless walls and a floor so clean it reflected a blurred silhouette of me.
I looked more like a ghost than a person.
I was still clutching the notebook against my chest; I must have slept like that.
Now that I was a little more rested, the purple leather—or whatever material it was—seemed to vibrate at a low, almost imperceptible frequency.
Like a limb waking up.
I glanced around, unsure how long I'd been in there.
Days? Hours? Minutes?
There was no way to tell.
But the good part was: I was breathing.
I was alive.
That alone felt like a miracle.
I sat up, letting my back touch the wall. The surface was comfortable, seamless.
Everything there was designed so I couldn't hurt myself.
A perfect cell… perfect to an uncomfortable degree.
And because of that, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't actually imprisoned.
Which somehow made it worse.
Nothing in this world was ever that perfect.
I took a deep breath.
And that's when the silence started to feel… loud.
It wasn't natural.
It was like the air itself was watching me.
The sense of safety began to melt away.
Slowly.
Like snow dissolving.
Trying to break the growing unease, I started examining the notebook.
The edges were damp from my sweat. Its texture still felt strange—neither cold nor warm.
I couldn't tell.
It was like touching someone's feverish forehead.
I opened it carefully.
Blank page.
Another.
And another.
Still nothing written.
"Did I imagine what I saw before?"
But something deep in my mind whispered no. I had definitely seen words there.
Something about…
"What was it again?"
I couldn't remember.
Then something very small happened.
A thin line of violet light slithered across the surface of the page—so fast I almost dismissed it as imagination.
I blinked, and the page was blank again.
But I had seen it.
My heart sped up.
I pressed my thumb harder against the paper, searching for any hidden texture, any raised imprint.
Nothing.
Too smooth.
Still, I kept flipping through the pages, hoping—
The light returned.
This time stronger, lingering.
A short stroke, like a word trying to be born but fighting not to disappear.
I froze, staring at something I couldn't even describe.
A wave of heat crawled up my arms, and the cell felt like it tightened around me.
The moment I touched the paper again, it was as if the notebook recognized that I was looking at it.
Then it unraveled.
Literally.
It dissolved into tiny points of purple light, each one carrying what sounded like a faint whisper.
Light spilled from the edges, from the invisible fibers, from the stitching—everywhere at once.
It glided across my fingers like glowing dust.
The fragments hovered for a second and then were pulled into me.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
The light entered through my arms, chest, skull—and vanished.
The notebook disappeared as if it had never existed.
For a second, I thought I would scream.
But no sound came out.
Because suddenly, a memory lit up inside my mind—sharp and intrusive.
A wrinkled face stared at me with eyes far too dark.
A hand placing the notebook in mine.
A voice:
"Don't lose it."
And then, almost overlapping:
"Even if you must give up everything else… do not lose it."
The Counselor.
My heart hammered so fast I felt the pulse in my teeth.
But it made no sense.
I didn't remember ever meeting that old man, and the memories felt washed-out, fragmented—like photographs left in the rain.
But they kept coming.
Layered images, none complete enough to understand, yet all strong enough to make me nauseous.
The old man smiling at me and saying my name.
My name.
Noah.
Noah.
I inhaled sharply as the light inside me pulsed, as if being swallowed by something.
"What's happening to me?"
That's when the screen appeared.
Purple and abrupt as always—no, this time it was different.
This time… I had called it.
Or rather: something inside me had.
The moment I thought of it, it opened with a patient glow.
OBSERVATION SOUL
STATUS: ONLINE (LIMITED)
CURRENT QUEST:
SAVE STORY MODE (
PROGRESS (HIDDEN):
1%
DETECTED ANOMALIES (HIDDEN):
— CORRUPTED MEMORY
— SCENARIO RECONNECTING
— ENTITY UNCONSCIOUS
USER PERMISSIONS: MINIMAL
Beneath the screen, there was a buzzing sound.
Low. Irritating.
Like a crowd whispering behind a thin wall.
It made my head throb. I wanted it to stop.
I didn't touch anything, but the screen flickered and vanished.
Even so, something deep inside me told me I could summon it again whenever I wanted.
The silence returned—but now it felt… different.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, that buzzing still lingered, muffled but present.
And I had that crawling itch on the back of my neck, like I was being watched.
That was when I heard it.
Soft. Almost gentle.
A tick… tick… tick, rhythmic, like heels tapping on polished floors.
I tried to move, but my legs were too heavy.
My thoughts ran in opposite directions—half focused on the buzzing, half trying to interpret the approaching sound.
The cell had no window, and even the door had vanished after closing.
But the sound came from somewhere.
Clear, like it was right in front of me.
It stopped.
I accidentally held my breath.
And the silence, obedient, held with me.
The door opened.
The same blonde woman from before stepped inside.
And for one second—just one—the sense of safety returned.
It was impossible not to feel it.
She was beautiful, radiating a peace that simply didn't belong in this world.
And because of that, something about her was deeply wrong.
A feeling I couldn't name.
Two guards followed her, though I wasn't sure if they were the same ones as before.
In the hallway behind them, shadows shaped like people shifted.
Maybe it was the lighting… or the distance…
But those shadows had hollows where their eyes should be, as if someone had scooped them out.
Their uniforms were pristine, yet their joints—elbows, knees, shoulders—bent too loosely, like there were no bones underneath. Only muscle and skin twisting inside the fabric.
One guard tilted his head far too much to the side, and I could swear his neck made a wet crack.
The woman smiled at me, gentle and polite.
"Noah."
My throat went dry.
"Come with me. The Counselor asked to see you."
My heart froze.
The Counselor was dead.
"Was dead… right?"
When I didn't answer, she extended her hand.
"Shall we?"
I didn't touch her.
Something inside me resisted that false sense of comfort and told me to run.
As soon as I stood, the guards moved, closing in on both sides.
Each step they took was so quiet it barely existed, yet there was a faint wetness to the sound—as if their boots were stepping on flesh, not stone.
We walked down the bright hallway.
The lights burned behind my eyes if I stared too long.
We soon reached an office—hers, I assumed.
The door opened at her approach.
Inside, the room was immaculate—a blend of office, laboratory, and hospital.
A glossy desk covered in papers and books.
Green jars lined up neatly.
On the right, a surgical table stood out like a quiet horror, next to a shelf of containers holding things floating in viscous liquid.
Maps and reports hovered in floating screens or were pinned to the walls.
All of it mixed with the faint smell of tea.
Something was fundamentally wrong.
When I looked up, the ceiling was higher than the building's structure should allow.
The chairs' shadows didn't match the direction of the light.
And near the surgical table… something was covered by a white cloth.
I saw a delicate wrist slipping out, blood dripping toward the floor—
slowly, gracefully.
The woman turned to me, smiling like nothing was out of place.
"Sit down, Noah."
I stood frozen for a second too long.
I wanted to run, but the guards tilted their heads again—the crack louder this time.
I sat.
She approached the covered table and, with impossible gentleness, lifted the cloth slightly before placing her hand over it.
My throat tightened as she faced me again, her smile pristine.
"We need to talk about what you are."
And that was when the fear finally erupted inside me.
She stepped closer until she was near enough for me to see my reflection in her eyes.
"Do you truly believe you're human, Noah?"