The buzzing white lights of the office ceiling hummed overhead, dull and almost angry in their flickering. Cael Solenne leaned back in his creaking swivel chair, one hand resting behind his head, the other lazily scrolling through his phone. His thumb slid across the screen with practiced detachment. Half-numb, half-bored.
Twenty minutes. That's all I asked for. Just twenty minutes away from keyboards and fake smiles.
The screen's glow reflected off his eyes, hollow, tired, and rimmed in faint red. The corners of his mouth twitched as he scrolled past an ocean of memes, short skits, influencers faking authenticity. Until something made him pause.
A crisp, high-budget trailer played on loop: dark skies, collapsing buildings, creatures howling in the distance. A voiceover, rich and distorted like it came from a god behind a screen, echoed:
"Where survival is not a choice—but a code."
At the center of it: a logo. WEDS.
His eyes narrowed. A subtle tightening of the brow, a tiny shift in posture. He tapped the screen. The ad expanded.
「'WEDS: Worldwide Emergency Dream Simulation'
Release Countdown: 3 Hours 27 Minutes」
"...No way," he muttered under his breath.
He scrolled the page. The UI was clean, but eerily familiar. Hexagon-shaped relic icons, chain-tier power systems, and a world map that looked far too close to the one he'd designed years ago. A game made for no one. A game he thought had died.
Couldn't be. That build was scrapped. Gone. Buried with… everything.
A shadow passed behind him.
"CAEL!"
He flinched, locking his phone in reflex. His boss's voice scraped the air like nails on rusted metal.
"You on break or vacation? Your ass better be back at your desk in two minutes, or it's your severance countdown that starts ticking!"
Cael offered a tight, awkward nod without turning. "Yes, sir."
The moment the footsteps faded, he got up with a groan, stretching his back until the vertebrae popped. His black slacks felt stiff, his shirt collar itched. He moved like a man out of sync with his own skin, dragging himself toward the bathroom with the grace of a kicked vending machine.
Inside, fluorescent light buzzed above the cracked mirror. Cael shut the stall door behind him and sat down with a sigh that was equal parts exhaustion and dread. He fished his phone out again.
Ping.
Lyra [4:14 PM]:
"Brooo!!! Look at this new game!!! VR only tho 😭😭😭"
The trailer link attached was the same. Of course.
Cael [4:15 PM]:
"I'll buy you one tomorrow. Just focus on your studies first."
Lyra [4:15 PM]:
"Yeah yeah yeah 🙄🤷♀️"
Still the same. Stubborn little gremlin.
He smiled faintly. The kind of smile that softened nothing but still tried anyway.
Above him, the fluorescent light dimmed for a split second. A tiny flicker. He glanced up.
The bulb buzzed louder. The reflection on the metal dispenser warped slightly, as if breathing.
He blinked.
Then it stopped.
A chill crept down his spine, curling around his ribs like cold fingers. He flushed, stood quickly, and exited the stall with faster steps than usual.
Just tired, Overworked and Hallucinating flickers now? Great.
The hallway outside felt colder. His boss was already waiting, arms crossed, lips twisted.
"I swear, Cael, one more slip-up and you're done. I don't care if your grandma's ghost coded the company's firewall. Do your damn job."
Cael didn't argue. He didn't even blink.
Just nod. Say sorry. Smile a little. That's what humans do, right?
He walked past, hands shoved in his pockets. But in the back of his mind, the image stayed. The map. The relics. The game he thought was buried with his past.
By the time the clock hit 5:47 PM, he was already outside, slinging his worn leather satchel over his shoulder and adjusting his crooked tie. His car—a decade-old sedan with one working speaker and a perpetually sticky steering wheel—waited faithfully in the lot.
The driver's door creaked as he opened it. He slid in, twisted the key, and the engine coughed before roaring to life.
His phone buzzed again.
Lyra [5:49 PM]:
"Pick me up 🥺 it's cold and I'm hungry"
He typed a quick "On the way," then pulled out of the lot, merging into early evening traffic.
The streets bled gold with dying sunlight. Windows reflected orange. Pedestrians hurried with bags and earbuds, all trying to outrun their own exhaustion.
Ten minutes later, Lyra waved from the university gates, ponytail bouncing, oversized hoodie half-swallowed by her backpack.
Cael popped the passenger lock. She jumped in.
"You're late."
"You're early."
She stuck out her tongue.
They argued on the way home—playful, mostly. About the game, about her unfinished math assignments, about why Cael never bought coffee beans despite reminding himself daily. The car was filled with their banter, their stubbornness, their years of practiced sibling rhythm.
Then the radio crackled mid-song.
"...emergency alert declared in Paris, Lyon, and Strasbourg. Early reports suggest a coordinated biological incident—some sources claim terrorism, others unknown origins. The rogue scientist responsible was once part of a classified experimental unit, before disappearing five years ago…"
Cael's eyes shifted slightly. Lyra turned the volume down with a sigh.
"Always France," she said.
"We're in London," Cael replied, though his fingers tightened briefly on the wheel.
Still. Biological… incident? That's new.
They reached home before the sky lost its color.
Their apartment was modest, aged, but warm. Lyra dumped her backpack and kicked off her shoes like it was ritual.
"I'm cooking tonight!" she declared, heading toward the kitchen.
Cael, exhausted, wordlessly went to the bathroom to wash his face. Water ran down his jawline, past tired eyes. He stared at himself.
When did I start looking like this? Like someone else's skin wearing me?
After a change into worn gray shirts and sweats, he passed Lyra with a towel over his head.
"Shower after. And don't flood the floor again."
"No promises!"
He retreated to the couch. Pulled out his phone.
Ordered three VR headsets. One for him. One for Lyra. One for Mi-rae.
We promised. Long ago.
His finger hovered before he finalized the payment.
Mi-rae… I really didn't forget.
He tapped "Confirm."
The ad played again, now fullscreen. But now it wasn't just a trailer, it was a countdown screen. Clean. Metallic. Quietly ominous.
「WEDS – System Initialization: 02:13:44」
"FOOD'S READY!" Lyra called from the kitchen.
He moved to the table, helping set the plates. She appeared moments later in her fluffy pajama pants and a loose shirt, hair still damp from her bath. She held the remote.
"Eating without TV is sad."
The screen lit up. News.
"France declares martial law. Virus unidentified. Extreme caution urged. Symptoms include rashes, fever, hallucinations—"
Lyra changed the channel.
"You worry too much, big bro. It's not like the plague's coming to London."
"You're still wearing a mask tomorrow."
"I'll look like a dork."
"You already do."
She stuck her tongue out again.
The screen shifted. Bright, sleek graphics. A digital clock ticked down.
「WEDS: WORLD RELEASE – 01:47:09」
Lyra's eyes lit up. "You ordered it, right?! What kind of VR set did you buy?"
Cael shrugged, poking at his rice. "It's a surprise. I got three."
She blinked. "Three? One for who?"
"Me, you, and Mi-rae."
The warmth vanished from her face.
The clink of her spoon hitting the bowl was sharp.
"You still… think of her?"
"She's still family."
"She was more than that to you."
Cael didn't answer.
Her voice rose slightly, brittle with something old and sharp.
"If you cared, why did you sell the game? The one you made together?"
"Because it hurt," he said quietly.
She didn't respond.
She ate the rest in silence, then stood, chair scraping the floor. "I'm going to bed."
The stairs groaned beneath her retreating steps.
Cael sat there, unmoving.
Then he picked up his phone. Opened the WEDS trailer. Opened the forums.
The UI… was identical.
The zones... names Lyra made as a child.
The mutation system… the relic shapes…
He clicked deeper, heart thudding.
Then the screen went black for a moment.
A new screen appeared.
「"SYSTEM INITIALIZING — 00:00:59"」
Cael stared, feeling unsettled.