I can’t get a wink of sleep. My mind’s in a storm, caught in the aftermath of Fei’s revelation. The weight of it presses against my chest, refusing to let me breathe easy. Terrorist recruitment? That’s already a hell no.
But the way Fei threatened me—calm, and friendly, like she wasn’t just capable of destruction, but comfortable with it—has left me shaken. It makes me wonder what other horrors she’s hiding behind that soft voice and reserved smile.
Fei has killed before—KAWAII agents, wiped out during the Blackout Incident. Myrrh died because of her. And that night, she turned her weapon on me. It still twists my gut to remember. She wore the mask of a timid, fragile girl, but underneath that disguise is a WAIFU so lethal, so calculated, it chills me. How did I ever fall for the act?
I tossed and turned all night, tormented by an endless reel of what-ifs. What if I hadn’t joined? Would they unleash the Cosmic Beasts again on Xyraxis? How many innocents would be slaughtered this time? Would Fei make good on her promise and kill Myrrh again—this time permanently?
But if I do join them… what kind of person would I become? A traitor to the KAWAII, hunted by the very people I once fought beside. Arrested? Executed? Either way, I’m signing my death warrant. And worst of all… Myrrh. She’d see me as her enemy. She’d hate me.
No matter the path I choose, I’m screwed. Every choice leads to betrayal, death, or both. And it’s not like I asked for this. Just because I carry the so-called blessing of the Machine God and wield Weapons from the Mass Destruction Series, I’m suddenly a key player in this spiraling nightmare.
And just when I thought the night couldn’t get any worse—three in the goddamn morning—my phone buzzed. One sharp beep, slicing through the chaos in my head like a scalpel. I jolted upright, heart pounding, thoughts scrambled.
Honestly, I was expecting it to be Fei again—maybe with another half-hearted threat to drag me into the clutches of the NTR. Typical. But no, this time was different. The message wasn't from her.
The same Ephraim who hadn't spoken to me since high school graduation. The same ex-boyfriend that Myrrh hates. His name lit up on my comms like a ghost poking through the static of old memories.
Ephraim: Hello. Good morning, Zaft. I saw you were online in these wee hours, so I thought I’d message. Hope I’m not disturbing you.
I blinked at the screen, a little caught off guard.
Me: Nah, it’s okay. I can’t sleep anyway. What’s up?
Ephraim: Nothing, really. Just… women problems, I guess. My luck’s been rotten lately, haha.
Typical Ephraim—using humor like a screen door in a typhoon. Then, after a short pause, he followed up:
Ephraim: Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask…
Ephraim: You’re in Xyraxis now, right? Enrolled at Orbital Tech Applied Kinetics University?
I leaned back in my chair, squinting slightly at the glow of the screen.
Me: How did you know?
Ephraim: Jonathan told me. Said you always dreamed of being a support unit for WAIFUs, so I figured you'd end up on that cyberpunk planet.
Ephraim: So… how is it?
I glanced out the window. The skyline of Xyraxis shimmered like a neural web, circuitry traced across the dark. Neon veins, distant shuttle trails. I exhaled softly.
Ephraim: I’m kind of considering enrolling at Orbital Tech next year. Truth is… I’m not really passionate about my criminology degree anymore.
Me: Oh, that’s great! Hope to see you around next year!
I hit send, but my fingers lingered over the screen. My smile faded just a little.
Something about the way he was tiptoeing through this conversation made my stomach tighten. Ephraim was being polite—almost too polite. And I could smell the reason from lightyears away. He wasn’t just catching up. He was circling. Maneuvering. Asking questions like breadcrumbs scattered on the path to one thing. One person.
I didn’t bother dancing around it.
Me: Are you going to enroll for Myrrh?
The reply didn’t come immediately. There was silence. Twenty seconds, maybe more. Just enough time for the air around me to feel heavier.
Ephraim: I’m embarrassed to say it, but… yeah.
Ephraim: I saw your photos on social media. Never imagined she’d end up not only your classmate, but your WAIFU partner, too. Crazy how things turn out, huh? ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt
Ephraim: I hope she’s not giving you a hard time.
I stared at the message for a second, then smirked faintly to myself.
Me: I’ve gotten used to it, haha.
Another pause. Longer this time. I could almost see him typing and deleting, over and over.
Ephraim: Hey, uh, if I may ask…
Ephraim: Are you and Myrrh dating?
For a moment, my mind went blank. I just stared at Ephraim’s message like it had glitched the entire thread.
I didn’t know what to say.
Myrrh had told me before—Ephraim had been pestering her ever since his messy breakup. And not just any breakup—he cheated on her. Had the nerve to crawl back after wrecking everything. The audacity of it still made something boil quietly inside me. I kind of hated him for it, if I’m being honest. The kind of quiet hate that simmers behind a polite smile.
And now here he was, trying to talk to me like we were old pals. Like the whole thing didn’t happen. Asking questions, prying into Myrrh’s life through me.
But maybe I should also think about the rumors. About people whispering that Myrrh and I were a thing. We have gone on three dates, technically. But they felt more like... assignments. Scheduled outings born out of convenience or mutual need, or more appropriately, debt. At least that’s how it started.
Still, I couldn’t lie to myself. I’d started developing feelings for her—real ones. Feelings that curled up in my chest whenever she smiled for real or leaned just a little closer when she talked. But I didn’t know if she felt the same. Myrrh was hard to read, and I wasn’t brave enough to ask her outright.
Maybe it was better to tell Ephraim the truth. Or at least, a version of it.
Me: No. We're not dating.
Me: Myrrh just keeps me around as a fake boyfriend.
Me: Apparently, I’m her pest repellent. Keeps the clingy guys at bay.
The silence on his end was short this time.
Ephraim: Oh, okay. Thank you for that.
Ephraim: You see… Myrrh blocked all twelve of my accounts on social media.
Twelve. My eyes narrowed. The hell is this guy smoking?
Ephraim: When I made a thirteenth and messaged her, she said she’d moved on and already had a boyfriend.
There it was again—that twisting feeling in my gut. Disgust? Jealousy? Guilt?
I wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it didn’t sit right.
Then, without warning, Ephraim forwarded me a picture.
It was from the Xyraxis New Year cruise—just me and Myrrh, standing against the backdrop of starlight and revelry, wrapped in the glow of floating lanterns and synthetic fireworks. It was a good photo. We looked... close. Happy, even.
But my face had been covered by a bright yellow smiley-face sticker. Cleanly placed. Like it didn’t belong. Like I didn’t belong.
It was kind of thoughtful, I guess—Myrrh trying to protect my identity. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of resentment. Even now, she was keeping me boxed and labeled. Not Zaft, the guy she went on three dates with. Just Zaft, the human pest repellent. The reliable shield she held up to the Kians and Ephraims of the world.
Ephraim: I thought this guy looked a lot like you. You were even wearing the same outfit from Jefferson’s house party back in high school.
I answered flatly, my fingers moving on autopilot.
And then—like a leak springing in my skull—those thoughts started seeping back in. The ones that kept me staring at the ceiling long after midnight.
The Neo Terrestrial Reich.
Fei Xian and her golden eyes in the middle of the Blackout Incident.
The mechanical planetary skeleton of the Machine God.
The endless strings of binary.
The grim future clawing at my neck.
It was all too much. Too wide. Too incomprehensible. Like standing on the edge of a black hole, knowing that sooner or later, you’d be pulled in.
And then there was Myrrh.
That image of her smiling. Not the practiced one. The real one. The one that showed up when she forgot I was watching.
That smile hurt more than any terrorist cell or digital god.
I already had too many things swimming in my mind—like files I couldn’t delete, open tabs I couldn’t close. There was no room left for trivial things like romance or heartache. Myrrh had loved Ephraim for years. Even before she had the vocabulary to name it.
Maybe that kind of love never goes away.
Maybe I should just lock mine in a file and throw away the key. Focus on the real threats—like terrorism and the unraveling of reality.
I drew in a breath and let it out slowly.
Then I typed words I knew I’d regret someday. Maybe even tonight.
Me: Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m just a fake boyfriend. I never had feelings for Myrrh. So go ahead—pursue her. I don’t care.
The reply came instantly.
Ephraim: That eases my mind. Thank you, Zaft. You’re a good guy.
I stared at that sentence for a while. “A good guy.” Whatever that meant.