Ashen walked.
The city resumed its rhythm as if nothing had happened. Traffic flowed. Screens blinked. People passed by without a glance.
She walked beside him.
Too close.
Ashen changed direction suddenly, cutting through a crowded street. People brushed past him—shoulders collided, curses muttered.
No one reacted to her.
Not a single eye followed where she moved.
Ashen stopped.
A man walked straight through her.
No resistance.
No reaction.
No awareness.
She flinched like she'd been struck.
"I—" Her voice cracked. "He didn't feel that?"
Ashen's jaw tightened.
He reached out.
His hand stopped inches from her arm.
He hesitated.
Then he pushed forward.
Warmth.
Pressure.
Real.
She looked at his hand on her sleeve, then up at him, eyes wide and shaking.
"You can touch me," she whispered.
"Yes."
The word came out sharper than he intended.
A drone passed overhead, low and slow. Its lens rotated toward them.
Ashen stepped away from her.
The drone's light swept the street.
Pedestrians. Asphalt. Neon signs.
Nothing else.
It moved on.
She hugged her arms to herself. "So… what does that make me?"
Ashen didn't answer.
They moved into a narrow passage between buildings. Signal died instantly. Sound dampened. The world felt thinner here.
She stopped walking.
"You're testing something," she said. "You keep putting me where people should notice."
"Yes."
Her lips trembled. "And?"
He turned to face her fully.
"You exist," he said. "But not to this world."
The words hung between them.
She laughed weakly. "That's a bad joke."
Ashen didn't react.
The laughter faded.
"…Say it again," she asked. "Slower."
"You are real," he said. "To me."
Her eyes burned. "Only to you?"
He said nothing.
That was answer enough.
She looked away, swallowing hard. "So when you leave…"
Ashen interrupted. "I don't leave."
She looked at him again.
He continued, voice flat. "The loop does."
Something in the air shifted.
A pressure. Familiar. Ancient.
Ashen felt it deep in his bones—like standing at the edge of something he'd fallen into before.
Too many times.
Far above the city, in a place without shape or mercy, systems began to argue with themselves.
CONTRADICTION DETECTED
IMAGINATION MAINTAINING AUTONOMY
HOST MEMORY: LOCKED
Ashen rested his hand on his sword.
Not to fight.
To anchor himself.
Because for the first time since waking—
He understood something.
He wasn't trapped in this world.
This world was trapped inside him.
And the loop had begun to crack.