A rustling sound, like thousands of overlapping whispers, echoed inside his head.
Arka opened his eyes, gasping for breath, realizing he was still inside the synchronization capsule. A dim blue light rotated across the ceiling, a sign that the memory download process had finished.
> [Synchronization: 100% successful.]
He sat up, pressing his temples. His head was full—not just with his own thoughts, but with fragments of other people's lives. For most, that was normal. The world now depended on the Library of Souls, a network storing billions of human experiences, ready to be borrowed at any time.
But this time was different.
In the last memory he downloaded, Arka saw a face that shouldn't exist.
His mother.
The woman stared straight at the camera, smiling—not an old recording, not a hazy recollection. It was new, vivid, and impossible.
Because five years ago, his mother had died along with his father and younger sister in an underground transport accident. He had seen the flames consume them with his own eyes—or so he remembered.
Arka froze, his body stiff.
"This… can't be."
But the small text in the corner of his virtual vision made his blood run even colder:
> [Original Memory. Status: FORBIDDEN.]
"Forbidden… memory?" Arka whispered.
Since when was there such a category? Wasn't the system designed to erase all secrets?
Before he could think further, his internal screen trembled.
> [Warning: Unauthorized access detected.]
Arka's heart leapt. He quickly severed the connection, panting.
And at that exact moment, a text message slid into his private network:
> "If you want to know the truth… meet me outside the network."
Arka spent that night restless. The mysterious message kept circling in his head. He knew it was dangerous to respond, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more he felt haunted by his mother's smile.
The next day, he went to the archive facility, pretending to run a technical inspection.
In a room filled with thousands of data tubes, he searched for the recording again—but the file was already gone.
"This can't be… I just saw it last night."
His hands trembled as he scrolled through the catalog. Every official record said the same thing: accident, deceased, case closed.
"Arka?" A voice startled him. It was Mr. Darman, a senior technician.
"What are you looking for?"
"No, just… routine maintenance." Arka quickly shut the panel.
Darman studied him for a long moment before patting his shoulder. "Young man, don't dig too deep. Some memories are best left untouched."
Arka froze. The words felt like a warning—or a subtle threat.
When he returned to his apartment that night, a new message was waiting.
> "Don't trust the archives. I can prove your mother is still alive. Meet me at the Light Bridge, 22:00."
Arka clenched his fists tight. He knew it could be a trap, but his curiosity was stronger.
If there was even a single chance to uncover the truth, he wasn't going to miss it.
The Light Bridge was drenched in neon lights, people hurrying by with vacant expressions—their eyes clearly still linked to the network. Arka stood at the edge, restless.
"Arka Renaldi?" A woman's voice called.
He turned. A girl stood there, messy black hair, sharp eyes. There was no trace of the faint blue glow at her temple—the telltale sign of a memory chip connection.
"Who are you?" Arka asked warily.
"My name is Liora." She crossed her arms. "I'm the one who sent the message."
Arka frowned. "But… you're not connected to the System?"
"Correct. I'm Empty."
The word made Arka flinch. People like Liora were considered defective, born without chips. They were nearly extinct, often shunned by society.
"I can help you," Liora continued. "You saw something that shouldn't exist, didn't you? That woman… your mother."
Arka stiffened. "How do you know that?"
Liora gave a faint smile. "Because I saw her too. The System tries to hide many things, but for people like me… lies are easier to see."
Arka looked at her, suspicion and hope colliding in his gaze. "What do you mean?"
Liora leaned closer, whispering softly:
"What you saw wasn't an accident. It was engineered. And your family… they might still be alive."
The world around Arka seemed to stop spinning.
And for the first time in his life, he felt a fear deeper than loss:
that everything he remembered about himself might be nothing but a lie.
Arka's breath caught in his throat. Alive?
The word rang louder than the neon hums around them.
"If this is a trick—" he began, but Liora cut him off.
"Then why would the System mark that memory as Forbidden?" Her eyes glinted. "You've already touched the truth, Arka. That means they're watching you."
Arka's pulse quickened. He glanced around; the crowd moved like sleepwalkers, eyes glazed by the network. Any one of them could be listening.
"I don't even know you," Arka hissed under his breath. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because you don't have a choice," Liora said flatly. She pulled a small device from her jacket—something crude, patched together from scrap. She pressed it into his hand. "This will cloak your signal. For a few hours, at least."
Arka stared at the device, hesitation gnawing at him. If he accepted it, he was stepping into a world he could never walk back from.
Before he could speak, a ripple ran through the crowd. Dozens of people froze mid-step, their vacant eyes glowing a deeper shade of blue. Then, in eerie unison, they all turned their heads—toward him.
Arka's stomach dropped.
"What… what's happening?"
"They found you," Liora whispered, grabbing his wrist. "Run!"
The neon bridge erupted into chaos as the hollow-eyed citizens surged forward like puppets pulled by invisible strings.
And as Arka stumbled after Liora into the shadows, only one thought burned in his mind:
If his family was truly alive… what else had the System stolen from him?
The pounding of footsteps echoed behind them.
Arka's lungs burned as Liora dragged him into a narrow service tunnel beneath the bridge. Neon lights flickered above, casting jagged shadows that seemed to chase them.
"Who are they?" Arka gasped.