The conference room lights remained white.
Without any windows, any sense of time was deliberately erased. The projector in the centre of the table slowly illuminated and began to display text before any images appeared.
Anomaly ID: Unregistered.
Seconds later, the footage finally loaded.
The scene was an old academic building, a dark classroom and a secondary sealing point. The spiritual pressure curve was pierced by a new trajectory — irregular yet unnervingly stable.
'We've confirmed one thing,' the figure seated at the head of the table stated flatly. 'The anomalies aren't random.'
The cursor paused, freezing at a specific point in time.
'Every deviation, silence and suppression occurred after this person appeared.'
The footage switched.
Li's figure appeared on the screen.
Though the image quality was poor, he was recognisable.
The conference room fell silent.
'Ordinary student status. No recorded awakening history. No self-reported anomalous behaviour."
Yet spirit entities react uniformly to him.'
The cursor circled the key term:
Suppression.
'Not expulsion. Not purification.'
Avoidance.
Someone frowned. 'You mean the spirits are avoiding him?'
"Yes."
A brief silence fell.
This was more dangerous than hostility.
Because it signified an instinctive judgement.
'Conclusion,' the figure at the head of the table continued. 'This individual is provisionally classified as—'
The text on the screen refreshed.
'High-Risk Anomaly Source | Hostile Status Unconfirmed'.
The air grew noticeably colder.
Finally, someone spoke up. 'Just eliminate him?'
Though spoken softly, the words carried weight and were not ignored.
'Acting now carries the least risk.'
He hasn't fully materialised yet.'
'Once he realises what he's doing, it'll be too late.'
Opposing voices immediately followed:
'The problem is, we're not even certain he's the "source".'
'The phenomenon surrounds him, but that doesn't mean he's the cause.'
'Then how long do you plan to wait?'
'Until he drags the entire academy into the rift?'
The debate continued, but remained firmly within the bounds of reason — there were no emotional outbursts or table-pounding.
This was how the Order Side discussed matters.
Cool, restrained, yet ruthless.
'One more question.'
The figure in the corner spoke up suddenly.
'What if he's being drawn in?'
The conference room fell silent.
'The rift is responding to him,' the person continued, 'but that response doesn't necessarily mean he's powerful.'
It could also be because—
He's necessary to some larger structure.'
The person at the head of the table didn't immediately refute this.
He merely stared at the frozen image on the screen. After a long pause, he spoke slowly.
'Therefore, do not eliminate him for now.
'But designate him as the highest priority observation target.'
Should any anomaly arise, execute the contingency plan immediately.
Contingency plan.
No one needed to explain what that meant.
Before the meeting concluded, the lights dimmed briefly.
It was as if some decision had been silently written into the system's deepest layers.
Meanwhile, Li was sitting in the classroom when he suddenly shivered.
It wasn't the cold.
It was more like someone far away had made some kind of judgement about him.
Looking up at the window, he saw that the sun was shining brightly and that everything on campus seemed normal.
But he knew one thing for certain:
From today onwards, he would no longer merely be 'noticed'.
He had been added to the action list.
The world was beginning to consider whether to...
take action.
This time, Mio didn't enter the classroom on foot.
She was dragged down.
The dreamscape collapsed beneath her feet. Rather than feeling weightless, she felt an illusion of being peeled away layer by layer: light gradually dimmed, sounds faded away and the concept of 'space' became unstable.
When she finally regained her footing, countless suspended fragments were all that remained around her.
They resembled scattered souls.
These fragments lacked completeness — some were merely blurred human silhouettes, while others contained only a fragment of emotion or a sliver of obsession. Yet they were all encased within the same structure.
A seal.
This wasn't forced suppression, but rather long-term storage.
They seemed categorised, numbered and set aside by the world.
Standing amidst them, Mio's breath grew faint.
She recognised this place —
the 'Historical Layer'.
Only those who had ended, yet could not vanish completely, were sent here.
She moved forward slowly.
The fragments trembled faintly as she passed, yet did not draw near — as if long accustomed to her indifference. Her gaze swept over one lingering shadow after another. Until, in a single instant, her footsteps halted.
Not a visual,
, but a frequency.
Amidst the countless chaotic echoes, the vibrations emitted by a small cluster of fragments made her heart clench — a sensation all too familiar.
Exactly like Li's.
Mio crouched down and reached towards one of the fragments.
There were no images or memory scenes, only a fleeting remnant sensation:
Quiet, steady, yet forcibly severed.
Her fingertips grew cold.
This was no coincidence.
These sealed entities weren't isolated individuals. A deliberately concealed commonality bound them together.
Their structures were identical.
Mio suddenly realised something.
Li wasn't an 'anomaly that appeared later'.
He was more like—
the part that hadn't been completely sealed away.
She continued deeper into the depths. The further she went, the older the fragments became and the more complex the sealing structures grew. Finally, at the very bottom, she caught a glimpse of a faint echo on the verge of dissipating.
In that instant, she nearly lost her footing.
It wasn't Li.
But it was—
the 'original form' that shared the same origin as Li.
It had no name or records, only a label that had been repeatedly overwritten:
'Processed.'
Mio's throat tightened.
If these fragments represented the past, then Li's existence wasn't accidental or a deviation.
He had been left behind.
Or rather—
— he had been omitted.
The dreamscape began to tremble, the historical layers emitting warning signals of retrieval. Mio knew she couldn't linger any longer. Yet, before leaving, she murmured softly: 'So you've always been here.'
'So you've always been here.'
The fragments offered no reply.
But that familiar frequency trembled faintly the instant she turned away.
When Mio woke up, it was still dark outside.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly, but not from fear.
It was because an answer had already taken shape within her.
What if Li hadn't appeared later?
If he had always belonged to this system, yet been selectively forgotten by the world,
Then the Student Council, the Night Patrol and all so-called 'order'
never truly feared chaos—
But rather—
being remembered.