You reach out and take her hand. Warm. Solid. No glitch.

Location: Dormitory hallway, 7:13 AM. The air smells of cheap coffee and ozone.

“I don’t know.”

Behind her, the hallway flickers. For one frame, it’s empty. For the next, crowded with ghosts of other playthroughs. Other Lenas. Other yous.

Not on your phone. In your vision . A translucent panel, rimmed in gold and error-red: Warning: Temporal affinity cascade detected. Some character memories may now persist across soft resets. Press [X] to acknowledge. You don’t press X. You’ve learned not to trust buttons that appear from nowhere.

You try to answer, but the words from earlier crawl up your throat again: “You weren’t supposed to remember that.”

You open it. stands there — the sharp-witted physicist’s assistant, usually all sarcasm and lab-coat perfume. But today, her eyes are red-rimmed. And she’s holding a crumpled photograph you’ve never seen before: you and her, standing in front of a building that doesn’t exist yet, both wearing clothes from a decade that hasn’t happened.