It smelled like ozone and burning plastic—
as if someone had plugged creation into a power strip.
The hiss of a dying modem sliced through the silence, caught somewhere between shutdown and reboot.
I opened my eyes.
No sky. No ground. Just white.
A cursor floated above me, blinking impatiently—like it was deciding whether I was worth booting.
Or whether my existence was just a software glitch in the universe's source code.
[SYSTEM BOOTING...]
Operator V-001 detected.
Status: decompiled.
"That doesn't sound healthy."
Then came the voice.
Cool. Sarcastic. Like a GPS suffering burnout.
[AVA: Adaptive Villain Architecture activated.
Welcome back, Lina Xu.
Please select your degree of moral decay.]
"Excuse me?"
[AVA: Selection registered: Confused but polite.
Default value set to: Undefined.]
I tried to breathe—apparently that function had been discontinued.
"AVA… was that another dream?"
[AVA: Negative.
Last recorded state: death.
Your biological substrate was discarded. Your personality is now digital property of the system.]
Dying, I thought, should've felt warmer.
I tried to scream, but even that had been disabled.
"Great. Dead. And apparently open-source."
[AVA: Your data has been secured.
Welcome to the Villain Program, Operator V-001.]
"Villain program?"
[AVA: Correct.
Your new task: simulate moral extremes in unstable worlds.
Goal: balance through controlled chaos.]
"And I'm the villain?"
[AVA: Indeed. You, of all people.
Profile: 25 years of moral mediocrity, zero ambition, no threat to anyone.
Perfect candidate for testing evil.]
I was silent.
What do you even say to an operating system?
AVA wasn't silent.
[AVA: Your neutrality is statistically so boring, it generates stability.
A rare talent.]
"So I got promoted to cosmic error simulation."
[AVA: Promotion confirmed.]
The white space flickered.
Images rushed past—microphones, cameras, people smiling and lying all at once.
A mission window opened in front of me:
Mission #1: Scandal.exe
Objective: Destroy the image of the star Leo Heaven.
Countdown: 72:00:00
"Destroy?! I'm not a hacker, I—"
[AVA: Timer active.
Simulation begins in 3... 2...]
"Wait, AVA, stop!"
[AVA: 1.]
The world exploded into color.
I was standing on a red carpet.
Flashes. Screams. Microphones.
A banner above me read:
"Heaven Entertainment: Image Reboot Live!"
A man in a designer suit smiled at me like I was his PR manager.
[AVA: Good luck, Lina.
And remember: you're the villain now.]
Dozens of cameras stared back.
Hundreds of faces. Millions of eyes. Zero idea.
"Good evening," I heard myself say.
"I'm not guilty. But I can explain."
[MISSION INITIATED]
Too bright.
Way too bright.
Lights. Noise. Cameras—
and a name I didn't recognize.
"Celeste Vega! Over here! One photo, please!"
I blinked. Who?
[AVA: World profile loaded. Name: Celeste Vega.
Occupation: PR Director, Heaven Entertainment.
Task: Protect and manage the public image of star Leo Heaven.]
"I'm… PR?"
[AVA: Correct. Ironic, isn't it?]
A microphone was shoved in my face.
"Miss Vega, how does Heaven Entertainment respond to the accusations against Leo Heaven?"
"What accusations?"
Flash. Murmur.
I had apparently just said the PR equivalent of 'I'm an alien.'
[AVA: Recommendation: Smile. Humans believe smiles more than facts.]
I grinned—badly. Nervously.
The reporters cheered like I'd confessed something.
A man with a headset sprinted toward me—sweaty, smiling like a hostage.
"Celeste! Finally! We're live, the press is waiting, Leo isn't here yet—you've got to deliver the message!"
"What message?!"
"That the song theft is just a rumor! Heaven, Celeste, just play it like always—calm, charming, superior. You're the firewall in heels!"
I wanted to protest, but he pushed me toward the stage.
Huge LED screens everywhere: HEAVEN ENTERTAINMENT – IMAGE REBOOT LIVE.
Audience. Cameras. Countdown: 72:00:00 → 71:59:55.
"AVA," I whispered. "What if I'm the opposite of a firewall?"
[AVA: Then we'll watch it burn.]
I stepped into the spotlight.
"Good evening," I said.
Silence.
"I'm innocent. But I can explain."
[AVA: Misunderstanding initiated.]
The floor trembled under the roar of the crowd.
Microphones lunged at me like aggressive metal flowers.
Overhead, the screen blinked: HEAVEN ENTERTAINMENT – LIVE.
"Celeste Vega!" someone shouted from the front row. "How does the company respond to the plagiarism claims against Leo Heaven?"
I froze.
[AVA: Suggestion: Smile, breathe, lie.]
"I—"
"Or did you release the leak yourself?"
Flashstorm. Murmuring.
"Of course not!" I blurted out. "I have no idea how that happened!"
Silence.
Then whispers.
Then applause.
[AVA: Crowd interpretation: emotional honesty. Approval rating 83%.]
"What?"
[AVA: They think you're sincere. Dangerous.]
My knees went weak.
An assistant slid me a card:
Stick to the message: "We stand united behind Leo."
I nodded… and read it out loud anyway.
"Uh… we stand… united… behind Leo?"
Not convincing. More like a hostage reading her ransom note.
[AVA: Ironic. Your sincerity destabilizes the simulation by 2%.]
"What does that mean?"
[AVA: You're breaking everything. Keep going.]
A reporter raised a hand.
"Miss Vega, does 'united support' mean Heaven Entertainment has confirmed the allegations internally?"
I blinked.
"Yes?"
Explosion. Voices. Chaos.
[AVA: Catastrophe confirmed. PR supernova initiated.]
I wanted to run—but the curtain behind me opened.
And there he was.
The man I was apparently supposed to protect.
Leo Heaven.
Designer suit, gold chain, teeth polished to corporate perfection.
He looked at me like I'd just murdered his career with a teaspoon.
"Celeste… what the hell are you doing?"
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out.
[AVA: Note: Your voice is irrelevant. The damage is already viral.]
He approached slowly, gracefully—
the kind of man who knew every movement was being filmed.
Leo Heaven.
A name clearly designed never to fail.
"Celeste," he said quietly, dragging out the s like an accusation.
I blinked.
[AVA: According to world profile: your ex. Relationship ended in betrayal, tears, and viral headlines. Have fun.]
"My what?!"
[AVA: Please remain discreet. Microphones are sensitive.]
"I thought we agreed—no more spontaneous confessions," Leo hissed through a perfect smile as he waved to the crowd.
"I thought I was dead."
"What?"
"Nothing!" I waved too, pretending I knew what I was doing.
The audience cheered. Two perfect professionals, they thought.
In reality: one terrified woman and a man who smelled like an investment portfolio.
"So, Celeste," he said, taking my mic. "Perhaps you'd like to share our official statement?"
I wanted to say no. I nodded instead.
"Uh… our statement is… complicated?"
[AVA: Interesting. You've just created a semantic vacuum.]
"What?"
[AVA: A void humans fill with drama.]
Leo smiled—a little too well.
"What Celeste means," he said smoothly, "is that we refuse to be divided by rumors. We work as a team."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. Cameras flashed.
The image instantly hit the big screens: Leo Heaven, charming and protective.
Me beside him—frozen, panicked, photogenic.
[AVA: World reaction updated. Hashtag #PowerCouple trending. Scandal probability reduced to 27%. Please act counterproductive.]
"What do you mean—?"
[AVA: He must not be saved. Think destructively.]
I turned to Leo.
"Team?" I said slowly. "Interesting. I didn't know 'team' was the new word for 'one-man ego show.'"
Silence.
Then gasps.
Then collective outrage.
Leo blinked. His smile cracked.
[AVA: Direct hit. Image damage +12%. Mission active.]
"Celeste," he whispered, dangerously. "What the—"
"I'm just being honest!" I yelled. "Apparently that's a mortal sin here!"
Flashstorm. Cheers. Laughter.
The audience went wild—not in anger, but admiration.
On the giant screens, comments appeared in real time:
"Finally someone says it!"
"Celeste Vega – Queen of Truth!"
[AVA: …Interesting. Your attempt at destruction made you an icon of authenticity.]
"Of course."
[AVA: Statistically: 95% incompetent, 100% effective.]
Leo looked as if he was calculating his net worth mid-collapse.
The digital clock flashed: 71:48:20.
And I knew—
this was only the beginning.
Leo was still beside me, looking like he was uninstalling humanity on the inside.The crowd shouted over itself—reporters, fans, security.The stage was a battlefield of glamour and panic.A PR staffer climbed up from offstage onto the platform, whispering to me:"Celeste, we're still live. Try to save the message!"
[AVA: Information: Your last three sentences have already been subtitled into ten languages.]"Excuse me?!"[AVA: Congratulations. You're international.]
I tried to breathe."Um… what I meant to say—we of course stand behind Leo. Emotionally. Or professionally. Depending on the contract situation."
Silence.Then somewhere a reporter snorted.Another shouted, "So no denial?"
[AVA: Catastrophe progress: 61%. Keep talking!]"I'm not denying anything! I'm not confirming anything either! I'm… differentiating!"
Leo pressed a hand to his forehead. "Celeste, please stop before you—""Save it?""—burn the whole company."
The audience whooped.A cameraman moved in, the lens gleaming menacingly.I just wanted to run.
[AVA: Flight detected. Note: The stage has no back.]"What does that mean?"[AVA: Behind you is an LED wall. Behind that: 600 audience members.]
I turned.Indeed—no door, only light."Then I'll just go through," I muttered.
And that's exactly what I did.I stomped past Leo straight into the set décor—the camera followed like a curious dog.Applause spilled over; people filmed with their phones.
[AVA: Social-media status: #CelesteBreaksTheStage trending.]"I just wanted to disappear!"[AVA: Mission accomplished. Visibility: 98%.]
A security guard ran up, whispering frantically:"Celeste, that's it—we'll cut this out, go offline for a moment!"
[AVA: False information detected. Livestream remains active.]I turned to the camera in horror."We're still on?!"
Leo groaned.The audience cheered.And the world had a new favorite scene.
[AVA: Summary: You didn't destroy him. But you did his image. For now.]
The stage lights flickered, the countdown kept running: 71:12:44.And I stood there, between smoke and applause—officially the PR director, unofficially the apocalypse in high heels.
—
I was still on stage, but someone had decided to convert it into a press conference.Behind me, LED walls lowered, a glass table rose from the floor, and three men in designer suits appeared on the screens—live in.
"You can't be serious…," I muttered.[AVA: Livestream Phase 2 activated: corporate statement. Congratulations. You've promoted yourself to spokesperson of the apocalypse.]
The middle suit smiled: Director Cain, CEO of Heaven Entertainment."Celeste. Nice of you to prep the stage for us. Would you like to explain to the world why our star is currently collapsing?"
I swallowed. "I… just wanted to be honest.""Honesty isn't a strategy, Celeste. It's an accident with a microphone."
[AVA: Analysis: 97% probability you're about to be fired. Recommendation: deploy humor—humans love tragic comedy.]"Then let's call it a pilot project for transparency?"
Silence.Somewhere in the audience, someone laughed.Cain raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't a joke.""It was to me."
[AVA: Irony level 10/10. Simulation wobbling.]
The CEO leaned in, threatening. "You publicly exposed Heaven Entertainment. Do you know what that means?"I nodded. "More clicks?"
An audible gasp.Leo, still beside me, grimaced as if I'd scraped out his career with a teaspoon.
[AVA: Update: Leo Heaven—popularity -43%.]"Oh… oops."
"Celeste, this isn't a game!""Then… why are we all on a stage with a fog machine?"
The audience snorted.The live screens filled with comments:"Heaven Entertainment Reality Show?""Corporate Meltdown Live — Episode 1"
[AVA: Congratulations. The crisis has developed its own format.]
Cain sighed, rubbing his temples. "I want an explanation before—"Then the screen flickered.A black bar with white text appeared:
[SYSTEM NOTICE: MORAL IMBALANCE DETECTED][AVA: Oops.]
"Oops?! What does 'oops' mean?"[AVA: Emergency protocol activated. The world is overreacting.]
Behind me the cameras started to stutter.The LED wall suddenly showed hundreds of comments in real time—they scrolled so fast they looked like a storm of words.#CelesteTruth #HeavenFalls #PRIsDead
"AVA, what's happening?!"[AVA: Your honesty triggered mass resonance. People are beginning to express actual opinions.]"And that's… bad?"[AVA: For a system based on lies? Fatal.]
The stage vibrated; the light broke into pixels.Leo shouted something, Cain vanished from the feed, and the audience kept filming—no one ran, everyone streamed.
I raised my hands."I swear, that wasn't on purpose!"[AVA: Intent is irrelevant. Effect counts.]
The screens froze.Countdown blinked: 71:00:00.[AVA: Mission status: chaos confirmed.]
"That's it for this world, right?"[AVA: Unfortunately, no. There are still 71 hours left.]
The world flickered.Then—black.