“In your real world, you had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. The System promised to cure you if you completed the quest.”
Yes. I had willingly entered this world to survive. “Every time you died, you gained a sliver of hope in reality. You never cared about
me!” he roared. I suddenly remembered that night, the decision to sign the contract, to trade my pain for a chance at life.
The System’s data began to twist. The walls crumbled faster. The world was about to be annihilated. Alistair’s eyes were wild with
desperate madness. “At first I hated you. But after reading your diary, I hated that System even more.” He looked up, his eyes holdi-
ng a tenderness and sorrow I had never seen. “Now that you’re cured, will you stay?”
I offered a bitter smile. “With a man who killed me nine times?”
He clutched my fading hand. “Not with the man who killed you. With the pathetic puppet controlled by the System.” I felt the warm-
th emanating from his wrist. Those hands that had inflicted such torture now trembled. The world was disintegrating, yet he was
reaching out to me amidst the ruins.
Just then, the System suddenly warned me in my mind: “Host, you only need to stall him for three days. Then I can reclaim the
world.”
Tears blurred my vision. The firm refusal I was about to utter caught in my throat. “Why should I believe you?”
He spoke softly. “Because you tried to conquer me nine times, yet you never truly understood me.” “Because we are both puppets,
trapped in the strings of fate.”
Three days after I returned, Alistair Valerius had gone completely mad. He had kidnapped five quantum physicists, forcing them to research inter–dimensional portals. In the laboratory, blinding blue light sliced his face into grotesque shapes. He held them capti- ve in the basement, giving them only one goal: to open a path to my world.
I watched him through the surveillance feed. The former High Acolyte was now a demon. He personally installed a brain–computer interface in his own skull, steel needles piercing his scalp, blood flowing freely. “Again!” he roared at the scientists, who lay slump-
ed on the floor.
The first test subject was an anonymous patient he’d brought from a mental asylum. The brain–computer connection lasted ten
seconds before he died. The second was Seraphina’s cousin, who, I heard, had once gloated over my death. Alistair personally stra-
Alister snapped his head up, the madness in his eyes instantly transforming into wild ecstasy. “You’re here!” He lunged at me, but
passed through my projection, collapsing to the floor. Ignoring the blood on his face, he scrambled up, gazing at me with rapt ador-
ation. “I’m not mad,” he whispered. “I just want to find you.”
“Alistair Valerius,” I said, my voice cold. “You killed me nine times. How many more have you killed now?”
“That wasn’t me!” he suddenly roared, smashing the surrounding equipment. “That was the System’s script! I was controlled! Trap-
ped in this world!” he shrieked, his voice raw.
“So now, you want to become the System’s puppet?” I stared at him. “You, who hated being controlled most.”
“As long as it’s a world with you in it.” He suddenly fell silent, a strange smile twisting his lips. “What does it matter if I become data?” He knelt before me, as if before the Grand Architect. “Clara Hawthorne, I am willing to become a line of code in your world. I am willing to lose consciousness, to lose memory. I only need to be by your side, even if you never know who I am.”
I looked at this man, once the proud, untouchable High Acolyte, now utterly broken into a raving lunatic. He connected himself to the main console, beginning the final experiment. “Coordinates locked: Real world, Clara Hawthorne.”
J
Alarms blared. The laboratory began to shake violently. “System overload!” a scientist screamed in terror. “The entire space is coll- apsing!”
Alistair simply smiled. His bloodshot eyes fixed on me. “Wait for me.”
The laboratory exploded, orange flames engulfing everything. In the inferno, he reached out to me, his fingertips passing through my holographic image, touching only emptiness. The last thing I saw was his persistent gaze amidst the flames. But at that mom- ent, the System, more efficient than ever, announced:
[System upgrade complete. Initiating world reclamation.]
One year after the mission ended.
I sat in a sun–drenched coffee shop, the wedding ring on my finger glinting with a warm glow. Today was the signing event for my new book. I signed the last name on the table, then looked up, smiling at a fan. Her eyes gleamed with admiration. “Madam, did you truly travel to a novel world?”
“Who knows?” I gently traced the book’s cover, hiding my trembling fingers.
My phone rang. It was my husband’s gentle voice. “Don’t forget our prenatal check–up this afternoon.” I hung up, instinctively touch- ing rny slightly protruding belly.
