The illusion did not collapse, it lingered. It still felt real. It still felt solid. It still held.
That was the first thing Galathea Brooks noticed-- the refusal of the space to break even after she rejected it, after she has revealed its nature, its purpose.
The penthouse remained intact, the city lights steady beyond the glass, the warmth still wrapped around her like something that had already decided to stay.
Too stable. Too willing to have her stay.
It felt wrong. If she had already rejected the illusion, why was the system letting her stay?
Is there something else that she needed to see?
"You built this well," she said quietly to the illusion of Cael.
Her gaze rested on him-- then shifted, just slightly, as if he were only part of what she was seeing. "Every layer of you, of the system."
Cael did not move immediately.
He watched her.
"You're still here," he said, voice calm, grounded in a reality that no longer applied. "You can still stay."
