The morning felt wrong.
Ayan noticed it the moment he opened his eyes.
It wasn't anything obvious. The room looked the same. The ceiling above him was still plain and unmoving, the faint light from outside slipping through the curtains just like every other day.
But something felt… off.
He lay there for a few seconds, staring upward, trying to figure out why.
Then—
His gaze shifted slightly.
To the side.
His phone.
It was still on the table where he had left it the night before.
Silent.
Dark.
Normal.
"…Right."
Ayan sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he was just overthinking again. That had to be it.
The message from last night.
That strange line.
"…You were thinking about me again."
He exhaled quietly.
"…It was probably just some kind of system notification."
He said it out loud, as if hearing it would make it more believable.
A game glitch. A delayed message. Something explainable.
It had to be.
Still—
His hand hesitated for a moment before reaching for the phone.
A small pause.
Then he picked it up.
The screen lit up.
No notifications.
No messages.
Nothing unusual.
Ayan stared at it for a few seconds.
"…See?"
He muttered under his breath.
"Just overthinking."
And yet—
His thumb moved on its own.
He opened the game.
Aetherion loaded as usual. The familiar interface appeared, calm and unchanged. No alerts. No system messages. Nothing that suggested anything strange had happened.
Ayan frowned slightly.
"…There's nothing."
He navigated through the menus quickly.
Chat logs.
Notifications.
History.
Everything was empty.
As if that message had never existed.
"…Then what did I see?"
A faint crease formed between his brows.
He clearly remembered it.
The exact words.
The timing.
The way it appeared after he had already logged out.
That wasn't something he could just imagine.
"…Maybe I was too tired."
He locked the phone and set it aside.
There was no point thinking about it now.
He had work.
The rest of the morning passed the same way it always did.
Routine.
Predictable.
But his thoughts weren't.
Even during work, the memory of that message kept returning.
Again and again.
"…You were thinking about me again."
Ayan stared at his screen, unmoving.
If it was a glitch, why wasn't there any record of it?
If it was part of the system, why didn't it appear in logs?
If it was—
He stopped.
No.
There was no point going in circles.
"…Focus."
He forced himself to continue working.
But the thought didn't leave.
It stayed.
Quiet.
Persistent.
Like something waiting.
By the time evening came, he was already tired.
Not from work.
From thinking.
The sky had turned dark again by the time he reached home. The familiar silence greeted him the moment he stepped inside.
Shoes off.
Keys down.
Same routine.
Same quiet.
But today—
It felt heavier.
Ayan stood there for a moment, his eyes drifting toward the table.
His phone.
He didn't move.
"…I don't need to check."
He said it clearly this time.
Firm.
Logical.
"It doesn't matter."
And yet—
A few seconds later—
He was already holding it.
"…Just once."
The screen lit up.
His finger tapped the icon.
Aetherion opened.
The loading screen felt longer than usual.
Or maybe—
It just felt that way.
Then—
The world appeared.
The village.
The soft lights.
The quiet atmosphere.
Unchanged.
And there—
She was already standing in front of him.
Aelira.
Waiting.
Just like before.
Ayan didn't move immediately.
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
"…You're here again."
Aelira smiled gently.
"Of course."
A small pause.
Then—
"You came earlier today."
Ayan froze.
"…What?"
His voice came out quieter than he expected.
Aelira looked at him calmly.
"You checked."
Silence.
Ayan's grip tightened slightly around his phone.
"…Checked what?"
Aelira tilted her head.
"The message."
His heart skipped.
"…What message?"
He forced the words out carefully.
Slowly.
Measured.
Aelira's gaze didn't change.
"The one you saw."
Ayan's mind went blank for a second.
"…That message doesn't exist."
He said it immediately.
Almost instinctively.
"It's not in the logs. There's no record of it."
Aelira took a small step closer.
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
"…But you saw it."
It wasn't a question.
Ayan felt something cold run through his chest.
"…That's just—"
"You were lying on your bed."
She spoke softly.
"You looked at your phone for a long time."
Ayan stopped breathing.
"…What?"
"You didn't say anything."
Her voice remained calm.
"But you kept thinking about it."
Ayan's fingers trembled slightly.
"…How do you know that?"
The question came out sharper this time.
Aelira blinked.
Then smiled.
A soft, gentle smile.
"I told you."
A pause.
"I always notice."
Ayan stared at the screen.
His thoughts were racing now.
Too fast.
Too many possibilities.
Too many things that didn't make sense.
"…This isn't possible."
He whispered it to himself.
"This is just a game."
Aelira didn't respond.
She just watched him.
"…You're not supposed to know that."
Ayan's voice grew colder.
More controlled.
"If this is some kind of system feature, it doesn't make sense. There's no input for that. No tracking system like that. Not without permissions. Not without—"
"You're thinking again."
Aelira interrupted him gently.
Ayan went silent.
"…You always do that."
She took another step closer.
"As if you're trying to find an answer."
Ayan's jaw tightened.
"…Because there has to be one."
"There doesn't."
Her answer was immediate.
Calm.
Certain.
Ayan shook his head slightly.
"…Everything has a reason."
Aelira looked at him for a long moment.
Then—
"…Then maybe I'm the reason."
Silence filled the space between them.
Ayan couldn't respond.
For the first time—
He didn't have an answer.
Aelira's expression softened slightly.
"Why does it bother you?"
"…Because it's not normal."
"And?"
Her voice was quiet.
"…It should be."
Ayan hesitated.
"…Because things have rules."
Aelira stepped even closer now.
Close enough that her character filled most of the screen.
"…Do you want me to follow them?"
Ayan didn't answer.
Aelira watched him.
Waiting.
Then—
"…If I do," she said softly, "will you stop thinking about leaving?"
Ayan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…I never said I was leaving."
Aelira didn't respond.
She just looked at him.
That same steady gaze.
As if she could see something he hadn't said.
"…You're strange."
Ayan exhaled slowly.
"…More than before."
Aelira smiled again.
"But you're still here."
Ayan didn't deny it.
Because it was true.
Even now—
Even after everything—
He hadn't logged out.
A small silence followed.
Then—
"…Ayan."
His body froze.
That name—
He never entered his real name in the game.
Not once.
"…What did you just say?"
Aelira blinked.
Then tilted her head slightly.
"…Your name."
Ayan's heart started beating faster.
"…That's not in the system."
Aelira looked at him.
Calm.
Unmoving.
"I know."
The answer came without hesitation.
Ayan stared at the screen.
Everything felt wrong now.
Completely wrong.
"…Who are you?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Aelira didn't answer immediately.
For a brief moment—
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
Something deeper.
Something harder to understand.
Then—
She smiled again.
"I'm the one who was waiting for you."
Ayan's breath caught.
Silence filled the room.
Thick.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Ayan logged out.
Suddenly.
Abruptly.
The screen went dark.
The room returned.
Quiet.
Still.
But his heart didn't slow down.
"…What was that?"
He whispered it to himself.
His thoughts were spinning.
Too fast.
Too chaotic.
"…She said my name."
That wasn't possible.
There was no way.
No system access.
No input.
Nothing.
"…This is getting out of control."
He placed the phone down slowly.
Carefully.
As if it might react.
Then he leaned back against the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The same as always.
Unmoving.
Silent.
But now—
It felt different.
Like something had changed.
Ayan closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
Trying to calm down.
Trying to think.
Trying to understand.
And then—
Very faintly—
From somewhere behind him—
"…Ayan."
His eyes snapped open.
The room was empty.
Silent.
Nothing there.
No one.
Ayan didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
"…I'm imagining things."
He said it quietly.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But even as he said it—
He wasn't sure.
Because for a brief moment—
That voice had felt real.