Darkness wasn’t the absence of light. It was the weight of forgotten memories. Jay stood in a corridor with no floor, no ceiling, just endless doors suspended midair. Each door whispered—laughs, screams, sighs—ghosts of who he could’ve been. He didn’t know how long he’d been here. Time didn’t pass. It folded. He reached for one door, trembling. It opened— —and he was six years old, alone at the dinner table. Mom had forgotten again. Dad was... somewhere else. The System hadn’t existed yet. Only the silence had. Another opened without asking. —the rooftop. First year of high school. The wind. A text from Rei: "Hey, lunch?" Jay had almost ignored it. That small decision changed everything. "Jay," came a voice behind him. Rei stood at the other end of the corridor—wearing his real-world clothes, blinking in confusion. Jay stepped back. "You’re not real." Rei shrugged. "Neither are you." They were suddenly inside a twisted classroom, desks bent, windows floating upside down. The chalkboard bled equations. On it: [ERROR: IDENTITY CONFLICT] Jay clutched his head. "I don’t remember which version of me is the real one." "The one that chose, Jay. Not the smartest. Not the strongest. The one who felt confused and moved anyway." Jay laughed bitterly. "You think that’s enough?" A mirror appeared behind him—tall, fractured, glitching. Inside it stood Phantom Jay again. But this time, he wasn’t fighting. f|re(e)web.n\ovel. (c)o.m He was watching. Waiting. Jay stared into his own broken reflection. "He’s still inside me. I can feel it." Rei stepped beside him. "Then talk to him. Accept him." Jay frowned. "He’s the me that wanted to be perfect. The version the System liked." "And you’re the version I like." Something in Jay’s chest clicked. A thread reconnected. The dream cracked—revealing a new corridor. Shorter. Simpler. Door 1: A world where Jay never awakened the System. He worked a part-time job. Grew old. Lived quietly. Door 2: A world of endless battle. Jay was a demi-god, feared and worshipped. Alone. Door 3: An empty room. No promises. No identity. Just a blank slate. The Observer’s voice echoed softly: [User must choose. This is the final junction.] "Which one do I pick?" "I didn’t come to choose for you." Jay looked at the doors again. "Screw the preset choices." [NEW PATH DETECTED: ERROR — UNKNOWN TRAJECTORY] Light cracked through the corridor like a sunrise breaking through thunderclouds. "Let’s write our own ending." They walked into the light.