Suddenly, the air inside the System Realm shimmered—like reality itself had glitched.
The interface blinked.
The floating code-stream turned red.
A shrill chime echoed.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
"Memory Clearance: Executing…"
"Request: Clear Past Memories — GF Authorization Verified."
"Initiating Memory Clearance: 3…2…1…"
"ERROR. Only Partial Deletion Possible. Critical Block Detected. ERROR…ERROR…"
"Why in the heavens is it doing that again!?" Faith snapped.
Y.G. flinched at his tone. "W-Wait, I didn't do anything—!"
Faith's eyes were fixed on the corrupted console, fury building like a storm. "Why isn't it working on him?!"
he slammed his hand on the control node, causing a ripple of energy that knocked a few hovering data shards out of the air.
Y.G. leapt to his feet, nervously glancing at the system logs, which were now stuttering and glitching in red and black.
He dared to glance at the Soul Keeper, who sat on the edge of the platform like this was all a mild inconvenience.
Unbothered. Unmoving. Unreachable.
"Did you touch anything again?" GF's voice cut through the chaos like a sword, calm but terrifying. He stepped forward, gaze locked on Y.G., golden eyes glowing faintly.
"N-NO!" Y.G. yelped, pointing frantically. "I swear—I didn't do anything! Ask him! He was right here the whole time!"
All heads turned toward the Soul Keeper.
He tilted his head, blinked once… and nodded with a shrug, the barest of smirks playing at the corner of his lips.
Not denial. Not confirmation.
Just... amusement.
Faith narrowed his eyes.
"Something's blocking the deletion," he said darkly. "And I don't think it's just a system bug."
Y.G. swallowed hard, a cold drop of sweat trailing down his neck.
Icarus stood by the window, arms crossed, the curtains billowing softly around him as the afternoon light spilled into the quiet room. His gaze, sharp and conflicted, never left the fragile figure lying on the bed. Aria.
But... not Aria.
The girl he once knew—the one who used to send letters every week without fail, always beginning with "Dear Icarus" and ending with a flower pressed into the paper—she wasn't the one sleeping here.
This Aria hadn't written to him in weeks. No sarcastic comments. No quiet thoughts scribbled in lilac ink. No laughter hiding between the lines.
She used to tell him everything. How she felt. What she feared. How alone she was in that vast palace that looked so grand from the outside but felt like a frozen tomb inside. She used to pour her pain into words like confessions to the stars, and Icarus had cherished every letter like a heartbeat—proof that she was still fighting.
She was more than a childhood friend.More than the girl who made a crown of lilies and put it on his head while declaring him "King of the Moon Garden."More than the small hands that held his during night terrors.More than the quiet girl who smiled like she was made of longing.
And yet… the last letter still haunted him.
"Dear Icarus,Mother is still cold to me. Even if I do something right, she never appreciates it. Sometimes I feel so alone in this enormous palace… like I'm stuck in a corner no one looks at.Father loves me. He's always there, always kind… but I still feel like I'm not enough.So I'm going to do something. Something to finally be enough. Enough of my sorrows.Are you coming to the Royal Boutique? I know you're busy… but can you make time to meet me, just once more?One last time.Your Aria."
He'd run there as fast as he could.
Was she already trying to protect Selene? Did she know an attack was coming?
He had so many questions. But none of them mattered when he looked at her now.
Something inside her had changed.
No... this wasn't the Aria he knew. The warmth in her voice, the spark in her mischief, the fire in her defiance—all flickered differently now. When she spoke, her words were laced with something... older. And her memories does not have anything about their childhood but something else not from this world .
Like a ghost of someone who had already died and come back pretending to wear her skin.
Then, finally, a soft rustle.
She stirred.
Aria's eyes fluttered open slowly, her lashes trembling. Her gaze searched the ceiling, then the room, then fell on him—on Icarus, silhouetted against the gold light of late afternoon.
His hair was loose around his shoulders, and his violet eyes shimmered, half-shadowed, but burning with something unreadable.
"…Icarus?" she whispered.
His breath hitched at the sound of her voice—but his eyes narrowed, conflicted.
He stepped forward, slow and careful, as if approaching a flame that might vanish if touched.
Then, in a voice barely louder than a breath:
"You're not Aria… are you?"
It was a direct question.
The moment the words left Icarus's mouth; the system blared a silent warning.
{SYSTEM ALERT: DO NOT TELL HIM —GF}
Aria's heart clenched.
She stared at him this wasn't the same Icarus anymore.
Something inside him had begun to fracture.
Because… he knew.
And she couldn't lie to him.
Not to Icarus, the boy who carved her name into fate with fire and blood.
She couldn't lie to him. Not to Icarus.In every loop of the game, he was always close. Loyal. Brilliant.And obsessed.
Obsessed enough to burn the sky and slay dragons for Aria.She remembered the scene from the game teaser: the way he came back, broken and bleeding, holding the Dragon Heart in his hands—only to find her body cold.
He lost himself that day.
In the end, he destroyed everything and took his own life. A tragic figure consumed by love.
{WARNING: ICARUS ACCESSED PARTIAL MEMORY FRAGMENTS. IF TRUTH IS CONFIRMED, WORLD-DESTRUCTION PROBABILITY: 97%. —GF}
Perfect, she thought bitterly.
His violet eyes searched hers like they were looking for a miracle.
"Tell me the truth."
His voice cracked, a splinter in a sea of calm.
"Are you… my Aria?"
Aria trembled. She opened her mouth—
—but her throat locked.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't say yes.
And she wasn't allowed to say no.
"System," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Can't you erase his memory?"
{RESPONSE: MEMORY WIPE FAILED. SUBJECT ICARUS = IMMUNE. —GF}
She nearly laughed.
Hysterically.
Because of course he would be.
Of all people in this broken world, he would be the one who remembered everything.
"You want me to lie?" she asked the system, bitterness in every syllable.
{RESPONSE: No. Just… don't tell the truth.}
She bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming.
He took a slow step forward.
The light from the window caught the tears shining in his eyes.
His voice was no longer steady.
"Was it painful?"
His words fell like stones into a quiet lake.
"Did she suffer?"
Aria lowered her gaze.
"…I don't know."
Icarus exhaled sharply—like the words knocked the air from his lungs.
His hands curled into trembling fists.
"I knew something was wrong. I felt it. I tried to get there in time, but…"
He looked away, swallowing the sob building in his throat.
"…she asked me to come. Just once. One last time. And I didn't. I was too busy chasing monsters when the real monster was the silence between us."
Tears rolled down his face unchecked.
"I was late," he whispered. "And now I'll never know if she waited for me…"
His grief clung to the room like smoke.
Aria couldn't breathe.
Her heart pounded like it wanted to tear itself out of her chest as she felt him.
She stepped forward, gently—like one wrong word would shatter him.
"You…" her voice broke, "you always knew when I was in danger. You always found me. Even when I thought I was gone forever, when the shadows had me—you pulled me out."
"…How?"
Her voice cracked like glass.
"How did you save me?"
But he didn't answer.
He stared through her, his mind unraveling at the seams.
"I couldn't save her…" he muttered, hands trembling at his sides.
"I couldn't see her… I was useless… it was all useless…"
His knees gave out slightly as the sobs overtook him.
Then—
He screamed.
A raw, agonized cry that echoed through the room like thunder—
—then in a flash of purple light, he vanished.
Gone.
Like smoke in the wind.
And Aria was left standing there, arms trembling, in the ruins of the truth she was never allowed to speak.