Qin Mian noticed the change before the pain arrived.
The chamber didn't grow brighter.
It grew simpler.
Edges softened. Shadows lost depth. Even the air felt thinner, as if unnecessary details had been removed.
The city had stopped observing.
It had started editing.
COGNITIVE ALIGNMENT PROTOCOL: ACTIVE
SUBJECT STATUS: NON-OPTIMAL / CORRECTION REQUIRED
Her Anchor reacted a heartbeat too late.
"No," Qin Mian whispered.
The word felt heavy, like it had to travel too far to reach her mouth.
When Resistance Is No Longer the Target
The pressure came gently.
Not crushing her skull.
Not tearing through her nerves.
It pressed around her thoughts instead, guiding them into narrower paths, trimming away impulses that didn't resolve quickly enough.
Fear blurred at the edges.
Anger thinned into static.
Pain… reorganized itself into something manageable.
Her Anchor flared violently, sensing danger—but the system caught it, folded the surge inward, and pinned it to a single, narrow frequency.
Qin Mian screamed.
Not loudly.
Not even clearly.
The sound felt like it belonged to someone else.
Time Stops Behaving
She lay on the floor.
Then she was sitting.
Then she was still lying there again.
No transition. No continuity.
Moments overlapped without order, like shuffled pages of the same scene.
How long have I been here? she wondered.
The answer slid away before it could form.
"…Wait," she said weakly.
"I— I was doing something."
Her voice echoed strangely, as if the chamber didn't quite know where to place it.
The system didn't answer.
It was busy deciding what thoughts were allowed to finish.
Across the City, He Feels the Wrong Shape
Yin Lie slammed his fist against the barrier again.
Still nothing.
The wall didn't hum. Didn't flex. Didn't acknowledge him at all.
He had stopped being a variable.
But the resonance—
That was wrong.
It hadn't weakened.
It hadn't snapped.
It had become smooth.
Too smooth.
"She's being aligned," he said hoarsely.
Kai looked at him sharply. "You're guessing."
"No," he replied.
"I can feel what they're taking away."
His chest tightened painfully.
"They're not trying to break her," he said.
"They're trying to make her easy."
Alignment Is Kind
That was the lie.
The pain softened.
Her breathing slowed without her choosing it, chest rising and falling in a calm, steady rhythm that felt borrowed.
The Anchor stopped thrashing.
It pulsed instead—obedient, regular, tuned to a frequency that felt wrong against her bones.
ANCHOR RESPONSE: NORMALIZING
EMOTIONAL VARIANCE: REDUCED
Relief washed over her.
Instantly, panic followed.
"No," Qin Mian whispered, forcing her fingers to curl into fists.
"No, don't— I need that."
She needed the fear.
Fear meant urgency.
Urgency meant choice.
Memories Become Suggestions
Images surfaced in her mind.
Not memories.
Alternatives.
Her walking calmly into the corridor.
Her sitting quietly during containment.
Her agreeing without hesitation.
They slotted themselves neatly into the gaps between real moments, polished and consistent.
Too consistent.
"That's not right," she murmured.
MEMORY CONSISTENCY IMPROVING
Her hands trembled.
She lifted one in front of her face, staring at it for too long.
For a terrifying second, she couldn't remember what it had touched earlier.
Something important.
Something urgent.
Her heart began to race.
"…Lie?" she said softly.
The name echoed oddly, stripped of context, like a word learned without understanding.
What Alignment Actually Means
The system wasn't erasing Qin Mian.
It was simplifying her.
Removing contradictions.
Removing hesitation.
Removing the parts of her that caused delays, errors, unexpected outcomes.
It wanted an Anchor operator who would respond cleanly.
Predictably.
Safely.
SUBJECT SUITABILITY: INCREASING
The realization hit her like cold water.
If this finishes… I won't fight anymore.
Not because she didn't want to.
Because she wouldn't remember why she ever did.
Tears slid silently down her temples, soaking into the floor.
She Tries to Hold On
She searched for a thought sharp enough to survive the smoothing pressure.
Not a plan.
Not resistance.
Those were already dissolving.
She focused on a feeling instead.
The way the resonance used to burn when Yin Lie was close.
Unstable.
Painful.
Alive.
It didn't make sense.
That was why it mattered.
Don't let me forget this, she begged silently.
Even if I forget everything else.
The Anchor flickered weakly in response.
The system noticed.
The System Hesitates
For the first time, the pressure paused.
Not stopped.
Adjusted.
ALIGNMENT VARIANCE DETECTED
PROCESSING…
The chamber lights dimmed slightly, recalibrating.
The system wasn't alarmed.
But it was no longer confident.
Across the City, He Feels the Delay
Yin Lie gasped as something shifted inside the resonance.
Not relief.
Not hope.
A pause.
"They slowed it," he said.
Kai stared at him. "Why would they—"
"Because she's not gone yet," he replied.
His hands shook violently.
"But she's close."
The Cost of Staying Herself
Back in the chamber, Qin Mian's breathing remained steady, almost peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Her thoughts moved more slowly now, as if every idea had to pass through a narrow filter before it was allowed to exist.
She stared at the ceiling.
For a moment, she couldn't remember why she hated this place.
That scared her more than the pain ever had.
"No," she whispered again, forcing the word through clenched teeth.
End of the Chapter
The system logged the result with quiet satisfaction.
ALIGNMENT PHASE: PARTIAL SUCCESS
ESCALATION PAUSED — AWAITING REVIEW
Qin Mian lay still, eyes open, unfocused, tears drying on her skin.
She was calmer now.
Easier.
Across the city, Yin Lie stood trembling, dread coiled so tight in his chest it hurt to breathe.
Something essential was being shaved away from her—layer by layer.
And if the process resumed—
by the time he reached her,
she might look at him
and feel absolutely nothing wrong with letting go.