Kaito stared at the terminal.
[MASTER OVERRIDE REQUEST: REBUILD OR RELEASE]
Two simple words.
But each one meant everything.
Release:
End the system. End the loops. End the simulations. Free every trapped mind—but destroy the only structure keeping them stable.
Rebuild:
Let it start again. But with him at the center. His thoughts, his memories, his pain—copied and embedded into a learning machine. A god made of ghosts and regrets.
He didn't move.
Because either way, he was sentencing someone.
Then—
A voice.
"You're hesitating."
He turned.
Misaki stood behind him.
But not the schoolyard Misaki.
Not the simulation.
The real one.
Older.
Eyes deeper.
Clothing unfamiliar—stitched from scraps of system code, broken UI panels, and memory thread.
"How—how are you here?"
She smiled softly. "Because I made my choice already."
She stepped to the side and waved her hand.
A second terminal appeared. Dusty. Hidden in the shadow of Kaito's.
Its screen blinked slowly:
[SECONDARY ROOT ACCESS: GRANTED]
[OVERRIDE: PENDING CONFIRMATION]
Kaito's stomach twisted. "What… what did you choose?"
She looked at him, eyes shimmering.
"I chose release."
Silence.
He took a step back.
"You already activated it?"
"No. I left the final key in your hands."
She held something out.
A music key.
The kind you'd wind on a toy box.
Etched into the side:
"WRONG NOTE = WAKE UP"
Kaito swallowed hard. "When?"
"The moment I remembered who I really was. Before the Kernel tried to rewrite me again."
"You knew it would come down to this."
"I hoped it would."
He looked between the terminals.
His hand still hovering.
"You understand what happens if we shut it down?"
She nodded. "We lose the structure. The order. Maybe even each other."
"But if we rebuild…"
"It learns to cage itself again."
A pause.
"I'm tired of cages, Kaito," she whispered.
"So am I."
He turned back to his screen.
The option pulsed.
He raised his hand—
And pressed RELEASE.
The terminal didn't beep.
It sighed.
Like something had been waiting a long time to die.
All around them, the glass hallway cracked. The code-vines began to unravel.
But not with violence.
With relief.
The memory of Hoshino faded, smiling faintly.
"Then maybe it ends as it should have started."
The notebook burned.
The lights dimmed.
And in the distance, the voice of the system—small, childlike—spoke once more:
"Thank you for teaching me how to feel."
"Goodbye."
White.
Pure, blinding white.
Then…
Nothing.
And then—
A street.
Rain on pavement.
Not simulated.
Wet. Cold. Real.
Kaito blinked.
He stood outside a bookstore.
Traffic passed. People laughed.
His clothes were different. He felt… alive.
He turned—
And Misaki stood across the street.
In the crowd.
Smiling.
Truly smiling.
He ran.
No loops.
No resistance.
Just a boy crossing the street to meet a girl in a world that finally—
Was free.