“Sorry, Adam,” I muttered under my breath. “But I need that whiskey. And you too, Jerry. Gimme a moment to center myself. I promise to make more sense… ter. If not drunk.”

  That was a good pn. Simple, effective. Get whiskey, drown thoughts, move on. “But first, clothes.” I pulled open the closet, half-heartedly rummaging through the mix of things Katherine had bought for me. Half of it was… ambitious. The other half? Also ambitious. But whatever. It was cute.

  My fingers brushed over soft fabrics, hoodies, skirts, leggings. Things I never would’ve bought for myself before, obviously, things that felt like someone else’s wardrobe. But wasn’t that exactly the point? After a minute, I settled on something casual but comfortable, a hoodie, snug enough to feel like a shield, loose enough to let me disappear into it. Something normal. Something safe.

  I pulled it on and stepped in front of the mirror, eyeing my reflection with a critical stare.

  This was me now. No smart suit. No stiff colrs. No heavy jacket, hands shoved deep in pockets like they could keep the world at bay. Just a girl, standing in front of a mirror, trying to recognize herself.

  My face was pale, eyes still slightly red from earlier. I grabbed a towel, ran it under cold water, and pressed it against my skin. The coolness helped, a little. Made me look a little less like someone on the verge of an existential crisis.

  Not good enough.

  I leaned in, studying my reflection, tilting my head to the side. I needed to learn how to do makeup. Not now, obviously. But eventually. I couldn’t keep walking around looking like I just cwed my way out of an identity crisis. Even if I had.

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. “Let’s go then…” I muttered to myself, tugging my hoodie sleeves over my hands.

  I turned toward the door, but the moment I reached for the handle, a cold knot twisted in my stomach. The memory hit me; from that simuted world, sure, but no less vivid.. A walk to the pub. The wrong streets. Questionable figures loitering by the corner.

  I could still hear their voices, a casual callout, an ask for a lighter. I had ignored them, kept my head down, jacket pulled tight. They let me go.

  Would they let me go now? I turned back to the mirror, staring at myself again, but this time, I saw what they would see. Not a man with a stiff posture and a don’t-bother-me stride. A girl, small, hoodie-draped, alone at night.

  I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling up. Why was I scared? It was stupid. Irrational. But the fear was there anyway, pressing at the edges of my mind, whispering caution in a voice I hated. I could just go. I had done it before.

  Or… I could call Lucas.

  A drinking buddy. A familiar presence. Someone to drown out the thoughts with.

  Someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.

  “Miss Charlie,” Jerry started, his usual stiff politeness barely masking curiosity. “If I could—”

  “No, you could not,” I cut him off before he even got the chance. I adjusted the hoodie, pulling it tighter around me, like armor. “Sorry, but I’m questioning the very fabric of existence right now, so unless you’ve got answers about the nature of the soul and whether or not I have one, I’m gonna have to pass.”

  “Got it.” There was an awkward beat of silence. “Going somewhere?” he finally asked, his tone neutral.

  I hesitated. Was I?

  “…Maybe,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “Patrik’s, I think.”

  “Alone?”

  That was the real question, wasn’t it?

  I exhaled slowly, gncing down at my holo-phone. The soft blue light of the dispy hovered in the dim room, Lucas’s contact already pulled up.

  His name flickered, waiting for me to make a decision. “Depends,” I muttered, rubbing a thumb along the edge of the device. My mind drifted, half-lost in the haze of exhaustion, half-rooted in the dull buzz of mencholy pressing against my ribs. I sighed, tilting my head back against the couch. “Too bad you’re just an AI chip in a watch, Jerry. If you were more advanced, I’d teach you to drink.”

  There was a pause. A little too long for a machine that could think faster than a human. “…Maybe in the future, I could gain capabilities like that,” Jerry finally said, his tone measured, uncertain, like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that future.

  Too bad. Drinking was awesome. Despite being the absolute bane of my existence. “Well, I’ll still take you along,” I mused, stretching my legs out. “But you’re right. I don’t wanna go alone.”

  “Miss Charlie,” Jerry said smoothly, his voice slipping into that professional AI-politeness. “My advice is to call Lucas. He arrived quickly st time.”

  I let out a short, humorless chuckle. Yeah. Last time. “That was something, wasn’t it?” I murmured, swiping my finger across the rough edge of my sofa. “Fine. Call him.”

  The holo-dispy of my tv blinked twice, signaling the connection. It barely rang once before the screen flickered, and instead of Lucas’s smug face, I was greeted with something different.

  Pearl.

  Specifically, Pearl’s head filled the dispy, her expression bnk, her tone drier than a corporate secretary. “Hello, you’ve reached the UE Military.” She deadpanned. “What’s the nature of your call?”

  “Sorry, Pearl, I don’t have time for your usual jokes. My mood’s in the gutter. Is Lucas around?” The words came out automatically, slipping past my lips before I could think better of them.

  Pearl’s expression shifted instantly. The sharp professionalism drained away, repced by something wide-eyed and curious, her head tilting slightly like a cat hearing an unfamiliar sound. “Hello, Charlie. You know me?” Her voice wasn’t suspicious, just… surprised. Genuinely surprised.

  I froze, gripping the edge of the couch. Holy Nathan!

  Of course, I knew her. I knew Pearl from another life, from a past that technically never happened. Back in the simution, she was Lucas’s girlfriend, though “warden” might’ve been a better term. She took his death badly. More, half the time, I had to smuggle Lucas out for drinks like we were pulling off a bck ops mission. The Germans even lent us an AWP once, an absurd, over-the-top memory that felt more like a fever dream than reality.

  But that was the problem. It wasn’t reality. Not for her. Not for anyone but me. I swallowed thickly. “Uh—” Think, think, think. “Lucas talked about you a lot.” That was technically true. Just… not in this world.

  Pearl’s lips parted slightly, her surprise melting into something softer. Almost pleased. “Truly?”

  But before I could tch onto that and steer the conversation to safer waters, her brows knitted together, suspicion creeping in as she gnced to the side, as if trying to piece something together. I barely had time to blink before she fired out like a half-formed accusation.

  “What do you want with him?”

  “Go to a pub—” I started, but the second the words left my mouth, her expression shifted. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A flicker of something hurt in her eyes. Oh, crap. “—because I don’t want to go alone?” I tacked on quickly, trying to salvage it, my voice lighter than I felt.

  Pearl stared at me, her jaw tightening slightly before she forced a smile. Not a friendly one. Not an amused one. A tight, brittle thing that carried the distinct snap of someone repressing an entire novel’s worth of thoughts.

  “... I see. Can we talk?” She was staring at me like she was trying to solve a hacking assignment that was missing half its code. Her focus felt like a spotlight, scanning for cracks in my words, in my expression. She was suspicious. Curious. And, most of all, utterly confused.

  “I’m in the middle of a downward spiral, Pearl. Please,” I said, gripping my knees to calm myself. “I don’t have time for dances. Either say yes or no. What do you want?“

  There. Pin. Clear. No room for misinterpretation.

  Pearl hesitated, her lips separating before she carefully spoke, like she was testing the weight of each word. “I don’t know if you know… but you look like… another woman. She was—”

  “His girlfriend. Charlie,” I cut in, my voice empty. “She died. He wanted to see her again in the game. Something went wrong, and I got caught in the crossfire. Now I exist here instead. He loves me. I don’t. That sums it up. Now, do you allow him to go or not?”

  There. Laid out like a QA report. No room for sympathy. No gaps for her to poke into.

  Pearl’s face flickered through a dozen emotions, each one trying to settle but getting shoved aside by another. “You… what? Allow and… you don’t?” Her brows knit together as she tried to make sense of the contradictions. “But…“

  I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Pearl. Please. Tell. Me. What. Do. You. Want. Now.“ It was a tried-and-true tactic in my communication with her.

  And it worked. Pearl’s nostrils fred as she snapped, “Lucas.” Then realization crashed into her like an angry Irishman. Her eyes widened, her lips pressing together like she’d just confessed something terrible. “I mean—”

  “Sure,” I cut in, sparing her the effort of backpedaling. “But I think he needs to grieve first. Hard to do with me looking like this.” I bit my lip, staring at the floor. “I should probably keep my distance...”

  Not just because of him. Because of me. Because I wasn’t real. Because every interaction with Lucas was another reminder of her. “I think I’ll just take a Tüber instead,” I murmured.

  “I… I’ll tell him you called.” Pearl’s voice wavered, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. Terrible poker face, as always. She hesitated, her lips parting, like she was about to say something else. “This was… from what I expected. I think—”

  Click.

  I hit the red button, cutting off whatever she thought before it could take shape in words. I’d know soon enough what she thought. She and Lucas would end up together. They were meant to. And I? I’d be right back where I started, smuggling him out of their apartment like some bad sitcom rerun.

  A heavy sigh escaped me as I dropped back onto the sofa, limbs spyed out, staring at the ceiling. The dim glow of the holo-screen cast long shadows, flickering against the walls, making the room feel colder than it was.

  “Now I feel even worse. How’s that possible? It was a rhetorical question, by the way.”

  “Got it,” Jerry replied. Then, asked, “Should I call Roberto?”

  I hesitated. My fingers drummed against my stomach, restless, uncertain. “I don’t know,” I admitted, hating how small my voice sounded. I wasn’t afraid, not really. Just… not in the mood to find out what happened if I walked alone and my luck wasn’t on my side this time.

  “But I have only this night to sort myself out,” I muttered, eyes locking onto the holo-screen again. The numbers blurred. “Tomorrow will be too busy for self-pity.” I shook my head. “Call him.”

  Jerry didn’t need further instruction. The line buzzed for a few moments before Roberto’s face appeared, his easy smile and dark curls as annoyingly perfect as ever. “Ah, signorina!” His voice was chipper, all warm familiarity and charm. “How are you doing?”

  “Terrible,” I blurted before I could stop myself. Roberto arched a brow, amusement flickering behind his dark eyes. “Sorry,” I corrected, rubbing my temple. “I mean… I’d like to go to the pub, but…” I trailed off, feeling ridiculous even as I forced myself to keep going.

  “What I mean is, could you take me?” My throat tightened. “I’m… scared to go alone.”

  For a second, I braced myself for ughter. A joke. Maybe even a well-meaning Charlie, you? Scared? John never was. Roberto just studied me through the screen, his gaze unreadable. “Ah, mi dispiace, signorina! But at this moment? I am a man of leisure!“

  I blinked. “No pub for me then.“ The words came out hollow. I reached for the end-call button, not even sure why I felt disappointed. “Thanks anyway for answering, Roberto. Enjoy your time off.”

  I moved to cut the connection. But his voice stopped me. “Ah, signorina, you wound me!” Roberto gasped, the happiness back in full force. “I never said I wouldn’t pick you up, just that this? This is a specialissimo VIP service, off the books!”

  And just like that, just for a moment, I almost smiled.