I didn't act immediately after arriving in Greyhaven.
Not because I was cautious.
Because I needed certainty.
I did not exist in the original novel. That fact could mean two very different things. Either I was truly free—or I was simply unregistered, a missing entry waiting to be noticed.
For anyone else, that distinction wouldn't matter.
For me, it decided everything.
Before power.Before ambition.Before touching the story I had written.
I needed to confirm one thing:
Does the world react to me at all?
I chose a residential district with no importance attached to it. No history. No influence. No reason for anyone to care.
A mid-rise apartment building near an inactive transit spur.
At the entrance, an automated scanner activated.
Identity verified.Payment authorized.
Rowan Hale.
The door opened without delay.
No resistance. No hesitation.
If there were rules about who was allowed to exist, I hadn't violated them yet.
I selected a small unit on the fifth floor. Plain. Functional. Overlooking a service road instead of the city center.
Inside, I didn't sit down.
I walked through the space slowly.
Checked the door.The window.The sound insulation.
Not for threats.
For reaction.
Nothing responded.
I activated my interface.
[PERSONAL INTERFACE]Name: Rowan HaleStatus: ActiveStamina: 71%Existence Flag: Unregistered
Unregistered.
Not rejected.Not restricted.
Just absent.
That was promising.
But assumption was not proof.
I began with routine.
Morning departure.Evening return.Consistent transit use.
I interacted with no one important. Avoided places that mattered. Took up as little space as possible.
Days passed.
Nothing changed.
Transit gates opened normally. Identity scans resolved instantly. No secondary checks. No follow-ups.
The world behaved as if I belonged.
That confirmed the first condition.
Existence was not validated.
It was assumed.
Next, I tested deviation.
Not recklessly. Incrementally.
I walked through older districts—areas maintained just enough to function. Infrastructure that still existed because removing it would cost more than ignoring it.
Still nothing.
So I tested Shadow.
Once.
At its lowest output.
[Shadow — Minimal Activation]
People adjusted around me without realizing why. Cameras tracked movement, then moved on.
No alarms.No escalation.
I deactivated it immediately.
[STAMINA: 64%]
The interface updated.
Existence Flag: Unregistered (Stable)
Abilities didn't anchor me to the narrative.
They didn't summon attention.
They simply… worked.
That left one final test.
I chose a place that should have mattered—at least on paper.
An old maintenance underpass connecting two service roads. Still listed in public records. Still powered. Still accessible.
But never used.
I approached without Shadow.
The scanner flashed red.
Access denied.
And then—
Nothing.
No alert.No follow-up.No escalation.
The denial itself wasn't worth recording.
That was the moment it clicked.
This world didn't enforce meaning.
It enforced order.
And I hadn't disrupted it.
I activated Shadow again, minimally.
[Shadow — Minimal Activation]
The scanner pulsed once.
Then went idle.
Not unlocked.
Not overridden.
Ignored.
I stepped inside.
Emergency lights activated. Dust hung in the air. Doors lined the corridor, labeled with faded identifiers.
Testing.Observation.Storage.
This place wasn't sealed.
It was simply no longer relevant.
I deactivated Shadow and waited.
Nothing happened.
I checked the interface one last time.
[PERSONAL INTERFACE]Existence Flag: Unregistered (Maintained)Anomaly Status: Non-impacting
That was the answer.
The world was not watching me.
Not because it was merciful.
Not because it was blind.
But because I truly did not exist in any structure that mattered.
I turned toward the exit—
Then stopped.
Certainty didn't demand urgency.
But it did demand completion.
If this place truly didn't matter, then staying longer shouldn't change anything. Leaving immediately would have proven nothing beyond what I already knew.
So instead of heading back to the street, I turned around.
Deeper into the underpass.
The emergency lights followed my movement in dull segments, activating only where I stepped, then fading behind me as if conserving effort. Old infrastructure behaved like that—functional when necessary, indifferent otherwise.
Most doors were sealed, their panels dark.
One wasn't.
Its display flickered weakly, text barely visible beneath layers of grime.
STATUS: ARCHIVEDOVERSIGHT: TERMINATED
Archived.
Not hidden.Not restricted.
Just abandoned.
I stared at the words for a moment.
Of course this was where I ended up.
I had spent days proving that I didn't matter.
Now I was standing in a place the world had decided didn't either.
If I was going to exist freely in this world—
Then this was exactly the kind of place I needed to understand.
I reached for the terminal beside the door and powered it on.