[Memory fragment]
He had been in this world for only a week then, still waking up at night expecting the gray ceiling of his old apartment, still reaching for a phone that didn't exist anymore.
He sat by the playground fountain, golden hair catching the sun, trying not to draw attention. But he always did. Even children stared at him with wide eyes, whispering.
"Are you lost?"
The voice was clear, kind. A little girl with chestnut-brown hair and bright, earnest eyes stood in front of him, hands on her knees as if studying a puzzle.
Rio Inami.
Lucien blinked. "No… just resting." His voice still felt foreign in this throat.
She smiled, unafraid. "You don't look like you're from here. But that's okay. You can play with us."
Behind her, a small boy, messy-haired, nervous, peeked from behind her shoulder. His fists clutched the hem of her dress.
"That's Haruta," Rio said proudly, as if introducing a treasure. "He's shy, but he's nice. He doesn't talk to strangers much."
Lucien's lips curved faintly. "I see. Then you must be the brave one."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she nodded quickly, tugging Haruta forward. "Come on, Haruta! Let's show him the tree!"
They dragged him across the park toward an old cherry tree, scarred with carvings from past summers.
"This is where we promised to always stay together," Rio said, placing her hand against the trunk. "Me, Haruta, and… now you too, if you want."
Lucien froze. The weight of her invitation pressed against his chest. In his old world, he had no such promises left, only the bitter memory of love torn apart by betrayal. He wanted to refuse, to stay distant, but Rio's eyes sparkled with such innocent warmth that the word slipped from him before he could stop it.
"…Alright."
Haruta frowned, gripping Rio's hand tighter. "You can't just invite anyone, Rio…"
Lucien glanced at him, seeing the possessiveness already there. The boy wasn't bold, but he was stubborn. He clung to Rio like a lifeline.
Rio only laughed. "Don't be silly. Friends are good."
They spent the rest of the afternoon under that cherry tree, the sun breaking into fractured light through the branches. Rio insisted they carve something into the bark, a symbol of their "promise."
Lucien hesitated with the small pocketknife Rio produced from her satchel. "You shouldn't be carrying this," he said, but she only puffed out her cheeks.
"I borrowed it."
She pressed it into his hand. "Write your name."
Lucien's fingers tightened around the handle. He wanted to say no, to keep some distance. But Rio's expectant gaze made refusal impossible. Slowly, he scratched the letters: L–U–C.
Rio's eyes lit up. She added R–I–O beside it, and Haruta, not to be left out, scrawled a crooked H.
"There," Rio said with satisfaction, brushing wood shavings from her skirt. "Now it's forever."
Lucien touched the grooves, strangely moved. In his old world, forever had been a lie. Here, under the sunlight, it felt fragile but real.
As the evening deepened, fireflies drifted above the grass. The children chased them, laughter carrying across the park. Lucien stood a little apart, watching Rio's hair catch the glow. She moved like she belonged to this world, while he still stumbled through it.
Haruta tripped and skinned his knee. He yelped, tears welling, and Rio immediately knelt beside him, dabbing at the scrape with her handkerchief.
"There, it's not bad," she said softly.
Haruta sniffled, glancing toward Lucien as if expecting mockery. Instead, Lucien crouched down and tied the cloth more securely.
"You'll be fine," he said. "Stand tall. You don't want Rio to worry too much."
Haruta blinked at him, startled, then lowered his gaze. "…I'll get stronger."
Rio smiled faintly, but something flickered in her eyes, curiosity, warmth, something that made Lucien look away quickly.
When the night grew colder, the three of them sat by the fountain again. Rio leaned against Haruta's shoulder, but her gaze kept drifting toward Lucien.
"You're different," she said suddenly.
Lucien stiffened. "…Different how?"
"You feel… like you came from somewhere far away. But you don't seem lonely when we're with you. Right, Haruta?"
Haruta frowned, uncertain. "I don't know. He's… strange."
Rio laughed softly. "Strange, but kind."
Lucien's throat tightened. He wanted to tell them the truth, that he wasn't supposed to be here, that he didn't deserve their kindness. But the words never came. Instead, he whispered:
"…Thank you."
Rio's cheeks flushed, and Haruta shifted uncomfortably, hugging his knees.
...
[Present]
Lucien leaned against the rooftop railing, his golden hair ruffled by the breeze, his fingers tracing the edge of a crumpled photo in his pocket. The image was faded, three children beneath a cherry tree, their names carved into the bark: LUC, RIO, H.
"You're brooding."
Lucien didn't turn. "I don't brood, Ruki. I reflect."
She laughed, the sound low and knowing, as she leaned beside him, her gravure-idol proportions accentuated by the tight uniform. "Reflecting on what? How many hearts you've broken this week?"
"Something like that."
Ruki's sharp eyes caught the way his thumb brushed the photo. "Ah. Rio."
"You know her?"
"The student council president?" Ruki smirked. "Everyone knows her. The girl who smiles at the world like it's hers." She tilted her head. "Though I hear she's been… distracted lately."
Lucien's gaze flicked toward the courtyard below, where Rio Inami stood beneath the same cherry tree from years ago, now taller, her chestnut hair tied back, her uniform crisp and perfect. Beside her, Haruta slouched, arms crossed, his expression stormy. They weren't touching. They weren't even looking at each other.
"They used to be inseparable," Lucien murmured.
"People grow apart." Ruki's voice was casual, but her eyes gleamed. "Or someone pulls them apart."
Lucien didn't answer.
The rooftop door creaked open.
Rio stepped out, her uniform slightly rumpled, her usual smile absent. She didn't notice Lucien at first, her eyes were fixed on the courtyard below, where Haruta was walking away, his back rigid.
"He's been like that for weeks," Ruki murmured, watching Rio's expression darken. "Ever since she started paying attention to other people."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
Rio's fingers dug into the railing. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?" Ruki's voice was a purr. "You've been distracted. And Haruta notices."
Rio didn't deny it.
Lucien stepped forward. "Rio."
She turned, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. "Lucien…"
"You're avoiding him."
"I'm not-"
"You are." His voice was gentle, but firm. "And he's hurting because of it."
Rio's shoulders slumped. "It's not that simple. He's… he's changing."
"People do." Lucien's gaze was unreadable. "But you're his anchor. And you're letting him drift."
"What do you want me to do?" Her voice cracked. "Pretend everything's fine? Pretend I don't see the way he looks at me now?"
"No." Lucien stepped closer. "I want you to fix it."
Rio's breath hitched. "How?"
Lucien reached into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled photo. "Remember this?"
Rio's eyes filled with tears as she took it. "Of course I do."
"Then remember why you made that promise." His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Or let him go."
Rio's hands trembled.
[NEW OPPORTUNITY DETECTED]
["Fractured Bonds – Exploit Nostalgia"
ANALYSIS: Target (Rio) is emotionally vulnerable. Target (Haruta) is primed for jealousy.
SUGGESTION: "Push them apart. Or pull them back together, your choice, Host. Both have… benefits."]
Lucien's fingers brushed Rio's wrist. "What do you want, Rio?"
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "I… I don't know anymore."
"Then let me help you figure it out."
His voice was a promise.
His touch was a lie.
Rio's eyes lingered on Lucien's, raw and uncertain, and in that quiet, the rooftop felt like the whole world.
A sharp click of steps cut the silence.
Her smirk was still painted on, but her eyes weren't laughing anymore.
"Well, well," she drawled, folding her arms under her chest. "The president of sunshine-and-smiles… crying in front of him?" She tilted her chin at Lucien, voice dripping with mockery. "I didn't think you could fall that fast, Rio."
Rio straightened, clutching the photo to her chest. "It's not like that-"
"Oh, it's exactly like that." Ruki stepped closer, "I should've known. Even you can't resist him." Her eyes flicked to Lucien, narrowing. "You really are dangerous, Lucien. First Saki, then Tsukimi, now the golden girl herself? What's next, the faculty lounge?"
"Careful, Ruki."
"Careful?" Her laugh was brittle. "I've been careful. Careful enough to let you toy with me, careful enough not to let it show. But now..." she jabbed a finger toward Rio, "...now I see you smiling at her like you smiled at me, and I'm supposed to sit quiet?"
Rio flinched. "Ruki-"
"Shut up." The words were sharp, almost venomous. "You think you're special because he showed you an old photo? Because he touched your wrist?" Her gaze locked with Lucien's, fury sparking. "How many times are you going to recycle that act?"
[Rivalry Detected.
New Subroutine: "Jealous Flame." Two targets in conflict over you.
Options:
Stoke rivalry → Accelerated corruption.
Pacify both → Resource drain, but higher long-term stability.
Favor one → Immediate bond, permanent fracture risk.]
Lucien exhaled slowly, masking the storm building inside him. His hand hovered near Rio's shoulder, but his eyes never left Ruki.
"You think this is about you?" he asked softly.
Ruki's breath hitched, the bravado wavering for just a second.
Rio's voice trembled. "Lucien…"
He closed his eyes briefly. If I let this spiral, Rio will break. And Ruki… Ruki will turn her pain into poison. I can't let them destroy each other. Not yet.
When he opened them, his expression had shifted, softer, steadier, the angel mask he wore even when his hands were bloody.
"Enough," he said.
Ruki blinked at the calm finality in his tone. Rio froze, clutching the photo tighter.
Lucien stepped forward, placing himself squarely between them.
He turned to Ruki first. "You think I'm mocking you? That everything I did with you was just a trick I recycled?" His voice didn't rise, "I don't toy with people, Ruki. If I touched you, if I made you feel something, it's because you mattered in that moment."
Her breath caught, sharp, unguarded.
Before she could fire back, Lucien shifted, his gaze falling on Rio. His hand brushed her shoulder gently, grounding her.
"And you, Rio… don't let her words cut you. You don't have to prove you're special. You already are."
Rio's throat worked, eyes wide, the tears threatening to spill.
Ruki scoffed, but the bitterness in her voice cracked. "You make it sound so easy. Like you can just... just say we both matter."
Lucien's gaze snapped to her, "Because you do. Both of you. And I won't stand here and let jealousy tear you apart when you deserve more than that."
[Choice Locked: Pacify Both.
Affinity Stabilization:Rio Inami +8% (Fragile Trust).
Ruki Kurogane+8% (Wounded Pride) .]
[TARGET: Rio Inami Affinity: 98%(Love & Fragile Trust)]
[TARGET: Ruki Ayame Affinity: 174%(Love/Desire & Wounded Pride)]
"Rio," he said, turning to her again, "Haruta's your anchor. Don't throw him away for confusion. And Ruki…" His eyes softened, "You don't need to fight for my attention. You already have it."
The rooftop fell into silence.
Rio stared at the photo in her hands, trembling, then finally whispered: "...You always say the hardest things."
Ruki turned away sharply, arms crossed, but her flushed ears betrayed her. "You're insufferable. Making me feel like the villain just because you can talk pretty."
The rooftop wind thinned, carrying only the sound of Rio's uneven breathing and Ruki's scoff swallowed by silence. Lucien let it settle. He didn't need to say more—the system already pulsed its cold satisfaction at the "choice locked."
When the bell rang, Rio brushed past him, clutching the photo like a lifeline. Ruki lingered a heartbeat longer, eyes flicking to his, unreadable beneath her pride, before following with a sway of her hips that felt more like armor than flirtation.
Lucien stood alone, staring at the empty rooftop.
By the time he stepped into the classroom, the air was already restless. Conversations died the moment he crossed the threshol, —his broken charm radiating like static. Girls glanced up with blushes they tried to hide. Boys muttered, pretending not to stare.
Lucien kept his eyes forward, the angel mask carved over his guilt.
And then he saw her.
She was slouched over her desk, chin on folded arms, pretending to nap. But he noticed the tremor in her shoulders, the faint tension in her fingers. Even across the room, he could feel it, her fractured aura, the silken thread binding her to him vibrating with every beat of her heart.
She had smiled for him once, bright, careless, alive. On the rooftop, that smile had crumbled, replaced by the hollow devotion the system demanded. He had taken that light and twisted it into something that only pointed back at him.
[Natsuha Shinomiya — Affinity: 200% (Defiled / Loyal).]
Lucien forced a smile, the same gentle curve that reassured Saki, that calmed Tsukimi when her obsessions spiraled. The "angel mask." He told himself it was for her sake, not his own.
But when Natsuha lifted her head, her eyes met his, and for a split second the mask cracked. She smiled back, wide and playful, like the old her, except the light never reached her eyes.
Bound. Broken. Dependent.
Lucien's throat tightened. He slipped into the seat beside her, careful with every motion.
"Rough morning?" he asked softly.
Natsuha stretched, laughing too loudly. "Rough night, more like. Can't keep up with all the homework, you know? Totally need someone to tutor me." She leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his. "How about you, Lucien? You'll help me, right?"
Her tone was teasing, but the thread between them thrummed with desperation.
Lucien's hand curled into a fist under the desk. I was too rough. Too fast. Too willing to use what the system gave me.
He forced the angel mask back into place. He reached over, lightly flicking her forehead with a smile he didn't feel. "If you ask nicely."
Natsuha giggled, pressing a hand over the spot he'd touched. "Then I'll ask nicely later."
Her laughter rippled through the classroom, convincing everyone else she was fine. Only Lucien felt the hollowness beneath it.
Lucien exhaled quietly, staring at the chalkboard as the teacher began the lesson. His mask was flawless. His chest felt like stone.
How long can I keep this up?