The bridge calmed for a moment.
No shifting plates. No screaming stone.
Just a sudden stretch of smooth obsidian, glimmering faintly with embedded fragments—like shattered glass frozen in time.
A hum pulsed beneath their feet.
BONUS UNLOCKED: MEMORY RETURNED
A white sphere rose from the center of the path. No markings. No sound. Just light.
Rin instinctively stepped back.
Matthew squinted. "Is it… safe?"
"No," Sora said, stepping toward it. "It's necessary."
Her fingers brushed the surface—
And the bridge vanished.
[Memory Fragment: 001A — Origin Trace]
Rain.
Tokyo. Blurred streets. Neon pulsing on wet concrete.
Inside a darkened apartment, a boy sat curled up, headphones blasting static. A schoolbag lay torn on the floor. The television flickered a single repeating phrase:
生定死 — "Life or Death: Chosen."
The boy was Matthew.
But Matthew didn't remember this.
Because the memory wasn't from him.
He stood behind himself.
Watching.
Frozen.
He saw his own trembling hands, gripping a phone.
He heard the voice on the other end.
Not his mom.
Not a friend.
A Game Master.
"Player Matthew Reaves, your apathy has been registered. Your entry is not a request. It's a result."
The call ended.
The phone melted into static.
Matthew screamed—but only inside the memory. The real him stood behind, shaking.
"I don't… I don't remember this."
Rin stepped up beside him. "You were forced in."
Sora said nothing.
She was watching the walls of the memory. Watching how they flickered. Glitched.
"This isn't just a memory," she murmured.
"It's an edit."
The scene ended.
The bridge returned.
The orb dimmed.
MEMORY DELIVERED. TRACE LOGGED.
Matthew stared at the ground.
"That wasn't mine," he said slowly.
"But it was you," Rin answered.
And Sora whispered:
"Or a version of you the system wants us to believe in."
They moved on.
Behind them, the memory orb cracked.
A hairline fracture spread across the bridge.
And the watching presence marked another tally.