It should've smelled like fresh takoyaki—crispy batter sizzling, warm steam curling in the air.
The hum of the city outside should've grounded them, a comforting buzz beneath the chaos.
But something was off.
The sounds were warped—like a scratched CD skipping. The air was thick, too thick, as if the atmosphere had forgotten how to breathe.
Yuki sat poised with her chopsticks mid-air, eyes narrowed. Across from her, Alepou leaned back stiffly, her focus unblinking. And beside them, Prince Taiyo—no, Gabrielle—stared forward, mouth slightly agape, stuck in some loop like a corrupted file buffering over and over.
Yuki whispered, "Guys… doesn't it feel like something's wrong?"
And then it hit her.
The texture of the wooden table felt...too smooth. The scent of grilled octopus? Too perfect. Too artificial.
Everything around them had the uncanny sheen of a set piece—like a memory being poorly reconstructed from a backup file.
Alepou's voice dropped, barely audible.
"Like a dream you can't wake up from... or a script repeating itself."
Then—a flicker.
A visual tear ripped across the shop, like an old VHS tape going out of sync.
The neon lights outside smeared together. Passersby laughed—a beat too late, their mouths moving before sound caught up.
Yuki jerked her head toward the window.
"Did the walls just… bend?"
The world glitched.
Time hiccupped.
Alepou stood sharply.
"I'm checking on that old man."
She didn't make it far.
In the corner, the same old man who had accused Yuki of theft lay crumpled like a broken doll. His body shimmered—like a 3D model caught between rendering frames. His mouth twisted into an unnatural grin that reached far too wide.
And then—
CRACKLE.
A thunderous static tore through their ears.
Everyone froze.
The world… RESET.
---
> Booting…
They were back.
Same table.
Same food.
Same fake calm.
But this time, they remembered.
Yuki dropped her chopsticks.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"We reset. We actually reset."
Taiyo looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"I remember this. We've lived this moment already."
A shadow passed outside the shop window.
No footsteps. No movement. Just… presence.
It wasn't watching from the outside.
It was watching from behind the screen.
Alepou's head snapped to it.
Her instincts screamed.
"RUN!"
Before they could move—another glitch.
The world juddered.
And then—
> [Memory Overwrite Initiated]
Yuki clutched her head.
Something was being downloaded into her mind. Her thoughts blurred.
For a terrifying moment, she believed she had never left her bedroom.
That this entire world was a delusion.
"Why go outside?"
Her voice was hollow. Robotic.
"It's better inside. Safer here."
Taiyo's tone warped.
"Sugoi! This is just like my favorite isekai!"
Too animated. Too eager.
Scripted.
Alepou leaned across the table, her tone off, her smile wrong.
"Yuki… you'd make such a cute waifu."
Yuki blinked.
"What?"
Alepou's eyes weren't her own anymore.
"You're so soft... I could totally make you mine."
Yuki recoiled, heart pounding.
What the hell was this?
Across the table, Taiyo's eyes flicked again to her chest—almost involuntarily.
"Dude. Seriously?" Alepou snapped—her real voice bleeding through the corruption.
She moved to swat him—but tripped.
In a surreal slow-motion moment, she stumbled… and landed squarely in Taiyo's lap.
Time froze.
Reality hung by a thread.
And then—
everything shattered.
A flood of symbols poured across Taiyo's vision.
He activated his appraisal skill on the shadow.
But all he saw were corrupted strings:
> ⍰⍰⍰UNDEFINED ENTITY⍰⍰⍰
[ACCESS DENIED]
[DEBUG MODE: LOCKED]
[...PROCESSING...]
Yuki's ears rang.
Somewhere beyond the veil, she heard a voice.
Not speech.
Not sound.
A command.
> "Processing..."