Threadless
When memory doesn’t fade — it rearranges.

In a quiet town where nothing ever seems to change, two students — Rin and Aro — begin to notice the seams of reality pulling apart.

It starts with a thread.
A memory that doesn’t belong.
A face seen once in a dream, then recognized in daylight.

As familiar places begin to shift — rain that doesn’t fall, mirrors that blink first, classmates that no one remembers enrolling — the two are drawn into something older than their lives: a forgotten architecture of rewritten memories, unfinished stories, and a hidden system that watches back.
Together, they begin to unravel the layers of their world, discovering abandoned workshops where time is forged, truth is mined, and forgotten selves echo like song fragments.

But the deeper they go, the more the story starts writing itself — and the line between who they are and who they once were begins to blur.

Now, with their names etched into a book they haven’t written yet, Rin and Aro must decide:

Are they here to remember the past?

Or to finish what someone never dared to start?

He was still seated, still grounded — but his senses told him otherwise. Something had moved beneath the simulation. A layer not meant to be touched.


They all had. A hum, low and wrong. Not danger. Not memory.


Selene's voice cut through the air. "We need to stand."


They rose. Chairs dissolved behind them.


In their place — a mark on the floor. A threadline, not drawn but burned in, faint but alive. Moving slowly… somewhere forward. Somewhere real.


Alin crouched to inspect it, but Aro had already started following.


Not erased — folded back into time. But something else had stayed. A faint symbol in the air. Like a static rune blinking where her shoulder had been touched.


And found a hallway that hadn't existed before.


At the end of it — she saw something watching her. Not alive. Not hostile. Just… waiting.


The walls began to echo voices from earlier chapters — versions of conversations they weren't supposed to remember. Lost iterations. Cut content.


"Someone's rebuilding memory," Rin murmured.


He watched through the observing plane. Threadlines warped beneath him, rippling with unsanctioned variables. The Technician had violated protocol in a way even he hadn't anticipated.


"She's bypassing memory entirely," Veyne said, appearing at his side. "She's restoring structure."


"And no one below has the authority to stop her."


They stood in silence, watching the divergence open.


"You know what this means?" Veyne asked.


"The villain's next move won't be a threat."


Somewhere beyond the observable simulations, she walked alone.


Lines of code flickered through her fingers, suspended in light.


I've restored the path. They will choose to follow it. Or not. That is beyond me now.


Behind her, part of the system flickered — a small rollback attempt was denied.


You always watched the wrong ones first.


Chapter 98 - Chapter 86 – “We Were Never Witnesses”