✦Morning came wrong.

Not loud.Not violent.Just… remembering.

The air carried the faint echo of something I hadn't said.The ground hummed under my feet like a page whispering my name after I'd walked past.

Even the sunlight felt hesitant, as if checking whether it was entering the right chapter.

The girl slept curled beneath my extra blanket — or tried to sleep.Her outline flickered every minute, small pulses running down her arms like static.

A reminder that she wasn't supposed to exist.A reminder that δ hadn't lied.

I sat near the door, back against the wall, watching her chest rise and fall.

More accurately—

Watching the world watch her.

✦A soft ripple passed through the room.

An object shifted on the desk.

A pencil rolled slowly — defying gravity, rolling uphill for two seconds before stopping.

"Not subtle," I muttered.

[ System Notice: Spatial Drift Detected ][ Severity: Low ][ Cause: Narrative Echoes Retained Post-Corridor ]

Of course.The corridor might have collapsed behind us…

But some of its memories clung to reality like dust.

I pushed myself up and stretched.

The quiet pressed around me.Not empty.Expectant.

As if the walls were waiting for a continuation of last night's confrontation.

"You're not getting a sequel scene," I told them.

The lights flickered twice in response.

Rude.

✦I checked the girl again.

She was half-awake now, eyes half-opened, blinking slowly — like someone waking in a world that didn't remember choosing them.

"Ishaan…?"

Her voice was thin, a fragile thread.

"Morning," I said.

She swallowed, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

"Did we… make it back?"

"Yes."

Her gaze drifted toward the wall where the corridor had opened.

The surface was smooth again.But the concrete wasn't the same shade as before.A little lighter.A little newer.

Like the wall had been rewritten after being broken.

She shivered. "It still feels like we're there."

"We're not," I said softly.

She didn't believe me.

She wasn't wrong.

✦I heated water on the portable stove.

The faint hiss broke the silence, grounding the world again.

The girl watched, arms wrapped around her knees.

She looked around the room like she was memorizing it — or making sure it wasn't changing behind her.

I poured hot water into two cups.

She accepted hers with both hands.

It warmed her fingers.Her outline steadied a little.

Only a little.

"Your form is unstable," I said. "But you're here. That's what matters."

Her lips trembled.

"Do you think… δ will come back?"

"Yes."

She flinched.

"But not today," I added. "And not while you're still this fragile. It expects you to break on your own."

"As if that makes it better…" she muttered, curling tighter.

I almost smiled.

Fear hadn't erased her sarcasm.That was a good sign.

✦I stepped to the door.

The morning light outside flickered in a pattern I couldn't name.

Like breathing.

One slow inhale.One slow exhale.

The world was adjusting.

And it remembered.

I opened the door cautiously.

Outside was quiet.Too quiet.

Birds perched on the electric lines watched me without blinking.Leaves rustled even though there was no wind.The street was empty, as if the city had paused itself at a comma and was waiting for me to finish the sentence.

A sheet of newspaper drifted past —

—then stopped mid-air.

Not caught on anything.

Just…stalled.

Frozen.Pages fluttering slightly, suspended on an invisible line.

A breath ghosted out of me.

An Echo Remnant.

I reached out and touched the paper lightly with my finger.

It dropped instantly, falling to the ground like normal, then skittering away with a belated gust of wind.

The girl stood behind me, clutching the doorframe.

"Is everything… broken?"

"No," I said. "Just bruised."

She didn't laugh.

✦We stepped outside.

As we walked, I felt it — tiny shifts in the air, like pockets of the corridor leaking through.

A streetlamp flickered from metal→ to wood→ to metal again.

A fence glitched from rusted→ to newly painted→ to rusted.

And a stray cat sitting on a windowsill split briefly into two silhouettes before snapping back into one.

The girl grabbed my hand without asking.

Her palm was cold.

"Why does everything look like it's… remembering wrong?"

"Because Echo Corridors don't disappear cleanly," I said. "Especially not when two versions of me nearly tore each other apart inside one."

She looked up at me.

"Was he really… you?"

"No."

But the truth was heavier.

"He was what I could've become," I said quietly. "If the story decided I was expendable."

She looked down at her free hand.

"Then… what does that make me?"

"You?" I squeezed her hand. "You're the contradiction the story didn't ask for."

"That sounds bad."

"It's the only reason you're still alive."

She blinked.

"What?"

"You disrupt the lines," I said. "You confuse the drafts. You don't fit any of their patterns."

"That's not reassuring."

"It shouldn't be."

✦We reached the corner of the street — and stopped.

Because the air was wrong.

Heavier.Thicker.

Like humidity but conceptual.

A faint ripple shimmered across the pavement, stretching from building to building like a transparent sheet of pressure.

The girl whispered, "What is that…?"

"A memory," I said.

"Of who?"

"Not who."I stepped forward slowly."Of what happened last night."

The Echo Corridor had left a scar on the world.

I knelt and touched the pavement.

It was warm.

And the warmth pulsed — steady, rhythmic, familiar.

A heartbeat.

Of a chapter trying to re-live itself.

[ System Notice: Narrative Echo Node Detected ][ Status: Dormant ][ Potential Trigger: High ]

Dormant.

For now.

The girl crouched beside me.

"It's like the world is… stuck."

"No," I said. "It's remembering."

She swallowed. "…Remembering you?"

"Remembering the fight. The fracture. The fall."

Of him.The one who looked like me.

I stood.

The node flickered once — faintly — then quieted.

But not permanently.

The girl tugged my sleeve. "Should we leave it alone?"

"We don't have a choice," I said. "It's not active yet. And if we touch it—"

"It'll wake?"

"Yes."

She stepped back instantly.

I couldn't blame her.

✦We walked further down the street — slowly, carefully — stepping over cracks that weren't cracks and shadows that weren't shadows.

I could feel the world trying to decide which version of me had walked out of the corridor.

The one who lived.

Or the one who hated.

The girl looked up at me, her expression fragile.

"Ishaan… what if the world picks wrong?"

I exhaled.

"It won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm still here."

She opened her mouth to argue — then stopped.

Because the world around us shifted.

Subtle.Quiet.But unmistakable.

A single lamppost bent its neck toward me as if bowing.

A ripple passed through the road beneath our feet.

A page whispered somewhere behind us.

And the sky brightened by half a shade —

As if completing a sentence it had left unfinished yesterday.

The world wasn't confused after all.

It recognized me.

And it remembered.

The world didn't snap.It didn't twist.It didn't scream.

It exhaled.

Softly.Slowly.Like a page relieved the reader finally turned to the right line.

The girl stiffened beside me, her hand tightening around mine.

"Ishaan… something's waking up."

"I know."

The air around us thickened — warm, pulsing, rhythmic.The same pulse I felt earlier at the pavement.

We turned the corner—

And the Echo Node was no longer dormant.

It glowed.

A faint ring of light circling the intersection where asphalt met concrete, shimmering like liquid memory.

The girl stumbled back.Her outline flickered so sharply the tips of her fingers blurred into transparency.

"I—it wasn't like this before…"

"It's responding to us," I said.

"No."Her voice shook."It's responding to you."

✦The node pulsed again.

Each beat carried a faint whisper — not sound, but pressure — brushing against my ribs, memorizing the rhythm of my breathing.

Like it was syncing with me.

[ System Notice: Echo Node Activation—34% ][ Trigger Source: Ishaan Reed ][ Instability Expected ]

The girl's breath hitched.

"Ishaan… you're waking it."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're existing," she said, trembling. "That's enough."

Fair.

The node brightened, words rising along its rim — phrases, half-sentences, broken thoughts — all written in glowing script only visible for a heartbeat at a time.

—he fell——tear the pages——rewrite him——replace—replace—replace——no, not him——protect the variable—

That last one hit me like a quiet shock.

My blood chilled.

That voice again.The one from the corridor.

The one that wasn't a god, system, or draft.

Watching.

The node pulsed.

Hard.

The world around us distorted — colors bending, shadows stretching too thin, distant windows reflecting scenes that weren't happening here.

The girl staggered.

Her legs buckled.

I caught her before she hit the ground.

Her body flickered violently — outline splitting into two, merging, splitting again.

"Don't… let it… pull me apart…"

"I won't."

But she was unraveling.

And the node was the reason.

✦I stepped forward, positioning myself between her and the node.

The light reacted instantly — brightening in a single sharp flare, like the story inhaled in surprise.

The whispers thickened.

—he returns——he survived——the wrong one walked out——correct him——no——the variable stays——the variable stays——protect him—

The air pressed against my skin — not painful, but insistent.

Like the world wanted to touch me.

To confirm me.

To check which version of me it had received.

Behind me, the girl cried out.

Her voice split — echoing with two tones, then three.

"I_Ishaan—! It hurts—!"

I turned back instantly.

Her form was collapsing again — stuttering between versions of herself.

One crying.One angry.One silently shaking.

I grabbed her shoulders.

"Look at me."

She tried.

Her eyes shimmered with fractured reflections — like someone else had scribbled over her pupils.

"I—I don't… belong here…"

"You do."

"I'm breaking—"

"You're here," I said, steadying her. "That's enough."

The node pulsed again — harder — sending a wave across the street.

Her instability spiked in response.

She screamed.

Not loud.Not long.

Just raw.

✦I snapped my attention to the node.

If it continued waking like this—

She wouldn't survive.

The world would erase her by accident.

Or on purpose.

I stepped toward it.

The light intensified — lines of glowing script swirling faster around the ring.

A faint echo rose:

"You are not him."

I froze.

The voice was my own.

Not my voice now.

A distorted echo of my hostile counterpart.

The erased-Ishaan.

"You don't belong," the whisper repeated, looping. "I belong. I belong. I belong—"

The script writhed.

The node wasn't just remembering the fight.

It was trying to finish it.

And I was the target.

[ System Warning: Echo Node Attempting Narrative Correction ][ Recommendation: Vacate Area Immediately ][ Risk: High ]

I didn't move.

Because behind me, the girl's outline had nearly vanished.

"Bhaiya…" she choked, "I can't— see— myself…"

Her hands passed through each other.

The node pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.

The world remembered the wrong Ishaan.

If I stepped away now, the node would choose the erased one.

The one who died.

The one who hated.

The one who wanted to erase everything I became.

No.I couldn't allow that.

I stepped into the node.

✦Light engulfed me instantly.

Not warm.Not cold.

Just… aware.

A thousand faint threads touched my skin — checking me, comparing me, measuring me against something invisible.

A voice emerged:

[ Identify: Ishaan Reed. Variable. Verification Required. ]

Another whisper followed — the same layered tone from the corridor.

[ Confirming: The one who lives. ]

The world held its breath.

The node pulsed—

Then screamed.

A shockwave exploded outward.

Concrete cracked.Glass shattered.Air folded like paper.

The girl was thrown backward– but the energy curved around her like a shield, bending away from her body before it could hit her.

My knees hit the ground.

The node's glow surged into my chest like a second heartbeat—

A line of golden script burned itself into my vision:

[ Recognition Complete. ][ Designation Updated: The Surviving Draft. ]

Oh.

That… was not a title I wanted.

The node dimmed slowly, collapsing into itself, shrinking back into a faint mark scorched onto the pavement.

The world exhaled again.

This time softer.

Settled.

Decided.

The girl's form stabilized.

Just barely — but enough.

She crawled toward me, breathing hard.

"Ishaan…? What happened?"

I wiped blood from my lip and forced myself upright.

"The world made a choice," I said.

"A choice?"

"Yeah." I exhaled. "Now it remembers me correctly."

She blinked.

"That's… good?"

"No," I said, voice low."It means something else will remember too."

Her eyes widened.

"W-what do you mean?"

I looked at the fading scorch mark on the ground.

At the quiet sky.

At the way the air shivered faintly around the edges of my presence.

"When the world chooses a version of me," I said, "every other draft feels it."

"That means…"

"Yes."

Somewhere, deep in the narrative layers—

Erased-Ishaan knew I had been recognised.

And he would come back.

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