Qin Mian woke up because the world was too quiet.
1. Silence Without Relief
At first, she thought she had gone deaf.
There was no ringing.
No pressure.
No screaming alarms from the Anchor.
Just… silence.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, vision blurred, the fractured sky above her unusually still.
"…Lie?" she whispered.
Her voice echoed once.
Only once.
2. The Absence Feels Wrong
She pushed herself up on trembling arms.
Her body hurt everywhere, but not sharply—like pain that had already done its damage and moved on.
She turned her head.
The place where Yin Lie had collapsed was empty.
Not scorched.
Not frozen.
Not disturbed.
Empty in a way that made her chest ache immediately.
"…No," she breathed.
Her Anchor pulsed faintly.
Uneasy.
3. She Checks the Wrong Way First
She scrambled to her feet and stumbled forward.
"Lie!"
Nothing.
She turned in a slow circle, scanning the terrain.
No blood.
No ice residue.
No spatial distortion.
Her breath hitched.
This wasn't disappearance.
This was removal.
4. The Anchor Hesitates
She reached inward instinctively, calling for the Anchor to locate him.
The response came late.
Weak.
Fragmented.
Not pointing to a place.
But to a gap.
Her hands clenched into fists.
"…Why won't you show me where he is?"
The Anchor pulsed again.
Uncertain.
Afraid.
5. The First Realization
She took a step forward—and stopped.
Something was wrong.
The space ahead of her felt… thin.
Not unstable.
Hollow.
Like walking toward a memory instead of a location.
Her heart began to pound.
She raised her hand slowly.
Her fingers passed through air that should have been solid.
She froze.
"…Lie?"
6. She Touches the Outline
She stepped closer.
Very carefully.
The outline of a person existed there.
Not visible.
But implied.
The way light bent strangely.
The way sound refused to pass through normally.
She reached out again.
Her hand passed through—
and brushed something cold.
She gasped.
"…You're here."
7. He Does Not Respond
She waited.
Nothing moved.
She waved her hand.
No reaction.
Her breath became shallow.
"…Say something," she whispered.
"I know you're not gone."
The outline remained.
Still.
Unaware.
8. She Understands the Difference
This wasn't unconsciousness.
This wasn't injury.
This wasn't even absence.
This was partial existence.
The realization made her knees buckle.
"…You're not in the same moment," she said shakily.
Her Anchor screamed softly, as if agreeing.
9. She Tries to Anchor Him
Panic surged.
She didn't fight it.
She needed it.
Her Anchor flared weakly, then stronger, trying to wrap around the outline.
Pain exploded through her skull.
She screamed and nearly collapsed.
The Anchor recoiled violently.
Refused.
"…Why won't you let me?" she cried.
The Anchor pulsed once.
Not allowed.
10. She Remembers the Sentence
Memory crashed back into her.
The presence.
The judgment.
The word termination.
Her breath caught painfully.
"…They started already," she whispered.
She pressed her forehead against the space where his chest should have been.
She felt nothing.
And yet—
she didn't fall through.
11. The Most Terrifying Detail
She stayed there for a long time.
Minutes.
Maybe longer.
Her legs began to ache.
Her breathing slowed.
And still—
he did not shift.
He did not twitch.
He did not react to sound.
He wasn't frozen in time.
He was out of it.
"…You can't even hear me," she said softly.
Her voice broke.
12. She Speaks Anyway
She sat down carefully in front of the outline.
"I'm awake," she said quietly.
"You were right. It hurts less now."
Silence.
"I didn't mean to let them hurt you."
Her hands trembled.
"I just didn't know how to stop them."
13. The Anchor Avoids the Topic
She tried again to feel him through the Anchor.
The response came—but slid away at the last second.
Not blocked.
Redirected.
Her Anchor didn't refuse.
It avoided.
"…You're scared of him now," she realized.
The Anchor pulsed weakly.
14. Anger Without a Target
Her hands curled into fists.
"Coward," she whispered—not to the world, but to the system behind it.
"You couldn't control him, so you erased the part you didn't like."
The silence did not argue.
15. A Change in the Outline
She almost missed it.
The light distortion shifted slightly.
Not toward her.
Not away.
Just… changed.
Her heart jumped.
"…Lie?"
This time, something responded.
Not a voice.
A pressure.
Like a breath taken in another room.
She gasped.
"You're still aware," she whispered.
16. He Exists — But Not Here
The understanding hit her all at once.
Yin Lie was not gone.
He was not dead.
He was not unconscious.
He was out of phase.
Existing somewhere she could not reach directly.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"…How long will this last?" she asked the world.
The world did not answer.
17. She Makes a Promise
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the empty outline.
Her tears fell without sound.
"I won't let them finish it," she whispered.
"Even if you can't hear me now."
Her Anchor pulsed uncertainly.
But it did not reject the statement.
18. End of the Chapter
Qin Mian stayed there until her legs went numb.
The world remained silent.
The outline remained still.
Somewhere between moments, Yin Lie continued to exist—unfinished, unresolved, slipping further from the present.
And Qin Mian finally understood the true horror of the sentence:
They hadn't killed him.
They had turned him into something the world no longer needed to acknowledge.
But she would.
Even if she had to tear open every timeline that tried to forget him.