A chill ran down my spine. Something cold and clammy seemed to creep up my back, wrapping around my neck, whispering to me.
‘You’re done for.’
I heard the words clearly. The sunlight felt dizzying, my head ached, and an overwhelming nausea washed over me. My heart pounded wildly, and then,
“Jane. Jane. Look at me.”
Liam Moore rushed over, dropping his bags and gripping my shoulders. His hands were warm, his voice was warm, everything was warm, but it shouldn’t have been. It just shouldn’t have been. This had to be a game.
I must have been having a seizure. I couldn’t breathe properly. Even in my dizzy state, his voice in my ears didn’t sound like a machine, it wasn’t monotonous. It was alive. Very much alive, unlike the emotionless, flat voice of a voice conversion program I remembered. I remember! I remember! My memory couldn’t be wrong, it just couldn’t be. If this was reality, I couldn’t go home, and if it wasn’t a game anymore, what would I become?
“Jane!”
Finally, my head lifted. My body stopped resisting.
A stranger stood there. Gray eyes, black hair. It was Liam Moore I knew, but at the same time, he was a Liam Moore I didn’t know.
“I… I, I mean…”
Why… why did his voice have emotion? Why did it sound like he was “worried” about me? Why were his eyes warm and his voice genuinely human? He always looked like a human, but why now? How?
I did nothing. No interaction. There was no interaction button to begin with!
Where did it go wrong? When did it start breaking?
Everything around me was alive, moving on its own. I didn’t even realize it.
When did their eyes start showing emotion? When did their voices start having inflection? When did the game’s features start disappearing? But before that, is this really a game?
My knees gave out. The man holding me gasped in surprise. I dropped my head, staring blankly at the floor. Liam, who had knelt down with me, was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it. It was cold.
I mumbled.
This isn’t the place. I don’t belong here. I’m not even British. I want to stop. I want to go home. It was fun, it’s a great game. I get it, I really do. The historical accuracy, the incredible graphics, it’s all so real. The voice acting is great. Everything is great. The difficulty is just right. Please let me go home.
“Jane, please, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you!”
I gasped for air, opening my mouth to force in oxygen. Tears welled up in my burning eyes. No. I laughed. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and my body ached as if I had been beaten, feeling light and cold. The sound of my laughter echoed.
After a long while, I barely managed to call out his name.
“Liam Schofield Moore.”
No more thoughts came to mind.
“I feel like I’m alive…”
And then Liam Moore’s (perhaps slightly fearful) question reached me.
“…Who are you? What have you done to Jane?”
I snapped back to reality. No, I couldn’t let it show.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind. The story of someone who told a dreamer they were dreaming, and everyone stared at them.
What if the game’s NPCs realized this was a game? It was a chilling thought.
My trembling hands pulled out a notebook. What have you done to Jane? What a laughable question. She was nothing more than an empty doll, waiting for someone to inhabit it. If I turned off the game, she would either stop, disappear, or remain forever unchanged. Without me, you too,
“Who are you?”
Liam Moore asked again, his voice low and filled with anger. He seemed to view me as something that had taken over Jane’s body. That was half true.
My face was wet. Probably covered in tears. I didn’t want to show this face. I didn’t want him to see my face stripped of all pretense and coldness.
The man was about to angrily question me again but stopped when he saw my face. Yes. He understands. No monster that took over a human body would wear such an expression. I answered.
“…I don’t know…”
I’m sorry. I apologize repeatedly. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you next time.
The screen brightened. No, was it going dark?
[Loading…]
The words appeared. It felt like someone was writing them directly.
Me….
And then the page turned back.
＊ ＊ ＊
I saw the back of Liam Moore rising from his seat.
When did it start? My body and mind followed the stored state, and the temporary madness that had shaken my head earlier disappeared, leaving only a cold, calm mind to welcome me. It felt like being doused with ice water. The fever spiked and then suddenly cooled, making me feel cold.
Jane Osmond. Me. I don’t know the name. I don’t know the face. I have brown hair and green eyes and live at 13 Bailonz Street, London. No… but what isn’t right?
“This isn’t it….”
Liam turned his head, eyes wide open. He reacted to my voice. Liam Moore, who knew nothing, I thought, what should I do with you?
Reason was steadily looking at this situation again. My brain, no longer in seizure, was finally thinking.
What was the problem?
When did it change?
I didn’t know what was disappearing, and even if I did, I had no way to stop it. It was like holding sand. The tighter I squeezed, the faster it slipped through. There was only a way to lose. This is the way it is. It will eventually drive me mad.
What should I do to remain sane?
I thought again, finding the answer in Liam Moore’s words. He always said so. Don’t know too much.
I wanted to ask if he had foreseen this. But I feared that asking would trigger another seizure, so I kept my mouth shut.
Forget it. If you can’t understand, forget it, and if you understand, pray to stay sane. There aren’t many choices. There will be even fewer in the future.
It felt like shards of glass were flowing through my veins. My throat felt prickly as if I had swallowed a sandstorm, and my head was dizzy. The fever that had cooled was rising again. The train wobbled. It rocked up and down like a boat. Ah, maybe it was my vision that was swaying….
I staggered. The floor came closer. But there was no pain. Liam Moore’s eyes turned back to me, and he appropriately caught and held me.
“Jane!”
Always. He’s always watching. If he knew I wasn’t his Jane, his attitude would change as quickly as flipping a hand, but I still held onto hope….
This manufactured affection is poison. We were running in parallel. He would surely mistake it for being in touch with me, but it wasn’t. I was running towards an unknown end, and no one noticed me.
Maybe if we got closer, you’d recognize ‘me’….
I don’t blame you. Only those who deserve it can blame. I was just curious. Names are supposed to help us recognize each other, so why don’t you know me?
His gray eyes were slightly transparent, darker towards the center. It looked like shining fragments were swirling around. I couldn’t tell if it was my hallucination, but my fevered mind spat out thoughts. There’s a universe in your eyes.
“Are you alright? What happened? Should I call a doctor?”
“I, um,”
I squeezed out a hesitant answer.
“It’s probably the aftereffect of seeing that yesterday. I suddenly felt a chill.”
Liam Moore’s hand covered my forehead, blocking my view. His body heat, which I usually found hot, felt surprisingly cold now. Maybe because I had a fever.
Soon his hand slipped, caressing my cheek. His calloused hand wasn’t smooth, but it brought back the stability I had lost. As my breathing calmed, the lingering touch slowly withdrew.
This means nothing. Just as I am nothing here and to these people….
“Let’s head to the hotel. You need to rest.”
With those words, I lost the grip on my fleeting consciousness.