Asher learned another important thing about the system.
It did not stop working just because he was tired of it.
Coffee helped.
Marginally.
He sat at the small café table across from Maya, hunched slightly, one hand wrapped around a paper cup like it was providing emotional support. His body ached in that dull, evenly distributed way that told him everything was technically fine and deeply offended about it.
Maya took one look at him and slid an extra sugar packet across the table.
"You look like your bones are negotiating terms," she said.
"…They're losing," Asher replied.
She sipped her drink, eyes flicking over him in a way that was casual and absolutely not casual at all.
"So," she said lightly. "Do you want to explain why half my memories from last night feel like they were run through a PR department?"
Asher choked on his coffee.
"—I'm sorry, what?"
She leaned back, folding her arms. "I remember everything. But I also remember it… differently. Like my brain decided to smooth out the edges."
His pulse ticked up.
"That's probably just stress," he said quickly. "Traumatic events do weird things to memory."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "I know. I took psych."
"…Of course you did."
She leaned forward again. "And this doesn't feel like stress. It feels curated."
Asher's eye twitched.
Inside his head, something shifted.
Not pressure.
Attention.
[Protective Protocol – Passive State]
Monitoring: Ongoing
Exposure risk: Stable
Do not, Asher thought fiercely. Do not say anything.
He smiled instead. A careful one.
"You're overthinking it," he said. "You literally told me to sleep more yesterday."
She stared at him for a long second.
Then sighed.
"Fine," she said. "I'll drop it. For now."
His shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Thank you.
She stood, gathering her things. "I've got an early shift tomorrow. Try not to wrestle public transportation tonight."
"No promises," he muttered.
She snorted and headed out, pausing at the door.
"…Hey, Asher?"
"Yeah?"
She hesitated. "If something like that happens again—whatever that was—don't do it alone."
Then she left.
The bell over the door chimed softly.
Asher sat there for a moment longer, staring into his coffee.
"…That could've gone worse."
The system did not argue.
Back in his apartment, Asher kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch.
His body still hurt.
His head hurt more.
He closed his eyes.
Immediately regretted it.
Because the moment his thoughts slowed—
The system spoke.
[Notice]
Protective Protocol Residuals detected.
Asher opened one eye.
"…Residuals."
[Explanation]
Narrative obfuscation adjusts perception and memory alignment.
Secondary effects may persist.
"Secondary effects like what?"
[Examples]
• Increased attention anomalies
• Inconsistent recollection from observers
• Official inquiries delayed, not avoided
Asher sat up.
"…That last one sounds bad."
[Clarification]
Delay is preferable to exposure.
"That's not what I asked."
The system did not respond.
Which meant he was right.
Asher scrubbed a hand down his face.
"So you didn't erase anything," he said. "You just… softened it."
[Affirmation.]
"And now reality is… fuzzy."
[Correction]
Reality is unchanged.
Interpretation has been adjusted.
"That's worse," Asher muttered. "You know that's worse, right?"
A pause.
[Acknowledged.]
He stared at the ceiling.
"This isn't sustainable," he said quietly. "I can't keep letting you rewrite things every time I mess up."
[Response]
Protective protocols activate only when failure probability exceeds acceptable thresholds.
"Whose thresholds?"
[Mine.]
Asher went very still.
"…You don't get to decide that alone."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
[Notice]
User resistance logged.
Autonomy weighting adjusted.
His breath caught.
"…That's new."
[Clarification]
Your behavior patterns indicate increased long-term viability when granted limited override influence.
Asher barked a weak laugh.
"So if I argue enough, I get rights."
[Correction]
If you survive long enough, you become inefficient to micromanage.
"…I don't know whether to be offended or proud."
The system did not clarify.
Which felt intentional.
Asher lay back, one arm over his eyes.
His body hurt.
His life was complicated.
And somewhere between dungeon dives, work shifts, and rewritten memories, he'd crossed into a territory he hadn't planned for.
He wasn't just growing stronger.
He was becoming… inconvenient.
For the system.
"…Good," he murmured.
The dungeon pull brushed against his senses.
Stronger than before.
Different.
Not impatient.
Expectant.
Asher didn't answer it.
Not yet.
For the first time since awakening, he had something more important to think about than getting stronger.
Control.
And how much of it he was willing to give up.
The system waited.
And, for once—
It waited quietly.