The space was no longer stable.
Rin's corridor flickered into Aro's chamber, which had already dissolved its chairs, and for a moment—just one—everyone could see each other.
Rin, standing with the stranger and Technician.
Aro, tense beside Selene, Iris, and Alin.
Weaver, no longer hiding.
Technician, reaching for something behind her back.
The threads that ran between them shimmered like nerves—about to speak.
And then, silence.
The air folded in on itself. Not violently—inevitably.
The stranger beside Rin stopped moving. His eyes widened slightly. "No," he whispered.
He vanished.
Not like he left.
Like he had never been there.
Aro's group staggered. Iris clutched her head. "What just happened—where did he—" Her sentence collapsed mid-word. She blinked. "Who were we talking about?"
Selene opened her mouth, but found no language. Not even silence.
Weaver turned sharply toward the threadline—his threadline—and for the first time, his hands trembled.
Technician backed away. "We were too late," she muttered. "He wasn't watching. He was waiting."
And then he arrived.
He didn't fall or rise or appear. He simply was, standing at the edge of their shared perception like a line carved into the world.
No fanfare. No symbols.
A man. Older than the rest. Dressed plainly. Hands behind his back. Eyes sharp but untroubled. He didn't radiate power. He commanded absence—memory stilled around him, like thread refusing to speak in his presence.
Rin felt it first—her pulse slowed. Her thoughts, usually layered and echoing, went quiet.
Aro's fingers twitched like he wanted to move but forgot how.
He finally spoke.
His voice was quiet. Measured. It didn't try to dominate—it simply expected to be heard.
"This project has gone too far."
Technician clenched her jaw. "You weren't supposed to return."
He turned to her, calmly. "You weren't supposed to defect."
His gaze drifted across the group. Not in judgment—in assessment.
"We allowed the simulations. We tolerated the memory trails. But this—"
He gestured to Weaver.
"—this was always the mistake."
Weaver took a step forward, voice sharper than before. "You locked the gate. You severed what could've connected us."
"I preserved coherence," the man replied.
Rin managed to speak. "Who are you?"
He looked at her. Not coldly. Almost… kindly.
"I'm the one who ended the first cycle. The one who removed names when they became too loud."
"I closed the gate, so you wouldn't wander off the edge."
Then, he looked at Aro.
"And you… weren't supposed to survive the edit."
Aro stepped back, shocked. Selene moved in front of him instinctively.
The man raised one hand. The threadline behind him convulsed—and then started to delete.
Not tear. Not cut.
Erase.
A name faded from the threads. Rin tried to read it but her eyes rejected the letters. Her breath caught. Aro staggered.
Someone they had known—was it Iris? The stranger? A version of themselves?—was already being undone.
Technician shouted, "Don't let him speak again. If he speaks, he owns the truth."
Weaver moved first. A flare of color erupted from his hand—raw thread, burning.
The man didn't block it.
He simply said:
"Begin rollback."
And then everything paused.