The rain had stopped, but the streets still shimmered with wet reflections—neon lights flickering off puddles like broken memories. Alexia walked quickly, not knowing where she was going, only that her feet refused to take her home.
If you could call it that.
Home was a one-room unit with automated everything, where the windows didn't open and the lights dimmed at precisely 10 p.m. A place built for someone who wasn't supposed to question anything. But now, everything felt wrong. The air, the silence, the way people moved like clockwork, expressions wiped clean.
She passed rows of faces. All blank. All controlled.
An old man stood beside a food dispenser, holding a cup he'd already finished drinking from, staring at it like he'd forgotten what it was. A child stood still in front of a hologram ad, not blinking, not moving. The city was full of people, and yet utterly… empty.
Then—
"Alexia."
She stopped.
The voice was quiet, low, and somehow... familiar. Like it had lived in the back of her mind for years, waiting for this exact moment to speak.
She turned.
He stood a few meters away, leaning against a metal column under a broken light that flickered above him. A tall figure in a charcoal coat, collar raised, hair slightly wet from the rain. His stance was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes—sharp, searching, dangerous.
"You remember me," he said.
She stared at him. His face stirred something, but not clearly. Not yet. "I don't," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"No," she admitted, which surprised even her. Her voice cracked slightly. "I don't know what's real anymore."
He walked closer, slow, controlled. His eyes never left hers. "That's how it starts."
She didn't move. The people around them kept walking, as if they weren't even there. No one looked. No one listened.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Names are unstable things," he said. "But if you need one… Reon will do."
"Reon," she repeated. The name sounded like it belonged to another life. One she wasn't supposed to remember.
"You saw something," he said. "Didn't you? A memory. One they said was gone."
She hesitated. "A woman. Smiling. I don't know who she was, but I felt—"
"Safe?" he offered.
She nodded slowly.
"They took that from you. On purpose."
Alexia frowned. "Why?"
He looked past her, scanning the sky as if waiting for something. "Because memories are more than pictures in your head. They're anchors. And people who remember… can't be controlled."
She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. "Why me?"
"Because you cracked," he said simply. "Most don't. Most go in, get cleaned, and walk out happy. You didn't."
"I don't feel lucky," she muttered.
"You will. Or maybe not." His expression hardened. "That depends on what you choose next."
Before she could respond, something strange happened. The buildings around them glitched—just for a second. A flicker in the lights, a flicker in the world. The sky shimmered like a screen that had been tapped too hard.
"What was that?" she gasped.
Reon didn't flinch. "Reality rewriting itself. You triggered it. They're noticing you now."
"Who's they?"
He stepped closer, his voice low and urgent. "The ones who decide which memories stay. The ones who erased me from your mind."
Alexia's heart pounded. "You were real? We knew each other?"
"Yes."
"What were we?"
He paused, then smiled—but it was a sad, distant smile. "That answer costs more than you're ready to pay."
Then he turned and walked away, vanishing into a passing tram crowd like smoke.
Alexia didn't move. Couldn't.
The world around her kept turning, perfectly polished, perfectly false.
But she wasn't part of it anymore.
And deep inside, something was waking up