Kairo didn't sleep.
He didn't even try.
He just sat there — back against the wall of a half-collapsed subway station, bag beside him, staring at his own hands.
They still shook sometimes.Not from fear.From resonance residue.
The afterglow of dying memories. Echoes from versions of him that never made it.
"Twelve different deaths," he whispered, voice hoarse.
He didn't remember living them.
But he remembered the pain.
And worse — he remembered her.
A girl.Short black hair.Eyes glowing like data under her skin.
She whispered something in one of the deaths.He didn't hear it clearly.But the tone?
It hurt.
The alley was behind him. Gone. He hadn't dared go back.
Layer-17 had quieted again — the Core's presence pulling back for now.Maybe it was resetting.Maybe it was hunting.
He didn't care.
Kairo had decided:He'd find out what was wrong with him.
Even if he had to fracture to do it.
He started walking at sunrise.
No map. No signal.Just… gut.
And for some reason, that led him to the old data spine.
A vertical hub of broken echo towers, long-abandoned by the Core after the first memory war.Layer-17's dead heart.
No one went there.
Which meant it was exactly the kind of place someone like him would hide.
It was on the 14th floor of a fallen tower that he saw her.
Sitting cross-legged on a rusted data rail, boots dangling into the void.Head down.Typing something into the air — her fingers moved like she was playing a piano.
She didn't look up.
Kairo took one step onto the metal walkway.
The moment his foot clanged—
"I was wondering when you'd find me."
The girl didn't turn around.Didn't flinch.
But Kairo froze.
Because her voice—
It was exactly the one from the echo.
"You're… her," he said.
The girl nodded, barely.
Still didn't look.
Then she said the sentence that turned his blood to ice:
"You died thirteen times."
Kairo stared.
"How do you know that?"
Now she turned.
Eyes like shattered crystal — layered data rings flickering across the iris.A small scar curved down from her right temple.Her jacket was torn, patched with old courier thread.She looked tired.
But focused.
"Because I watched you," she said softly."All of you."
Kairo took a step back.
"Who are you?"
She stood now. Face to face.
Close.
Too close.
She looked up at him — just a little shorter — and whispered:
"My name is Astra Vellum.""And according to the Core, I don't exist either."
Silence.
Kairo's mind spun.
"Wait… you're saying you're unregistered too?"
Astra nodded.
"I've been erased twice. And corrupted once. But I still remember you."
He frowned. "No. That's not possible. I only saw you in… fragments."
She blinked.
Then smiled. Just slightly.
"Then we're both broken files."
She turned, walking back toward the tower ledge.
Kairo followed.
The wind cut across the open air, sharp with static.Below them, fragments of the Layer's skyline shimmered — like a city trying to remember itself.
"You're resonating," Astra said quietly.
He nodded.
"I triggered… something. When I saw my body."
Astra didn't react.
Just said:
"That was Drift Tier 1. The Core will send a Type-2 Reaper next."
He blinked.
"You say that like it's normal."
She tilted her head.
"It is. For people like us."
She tapped the air.
A sigil appeared — glowing lines forming a spiral, then breaking into petals.
Kairo stared.
"That symbol… I saw it. Right before the flower bloomed."
Astra looked at him.
Eyes narrowing.
"You're further than I thought."
Then she said something he didn't expect:
"Do you remember me?"
Kairo paused.
The wind blew between them.
"I… don't know. I think I do. I saw you in one of the echoes."
She nodded slowly.
Then whispered:
"I've died in three of them."
Kairo's breath caught.
She looked down.
"I keep forgetting the versions of you I knew. They don't stay. Not fully. But one thing never changes."
"What?"
"You always come here."
The silence after that wasn't cold.
It was heavy.
Like a glitch waiting to finish rendering.
Astra looked up again.
"The Core will come for us both. Soon. If you want answers—"
"I do."
"Then follow me."
She walked into the darkness of the data tower.
Kairo hesitated.
For one second.
Then followed.
And the moment he crossed the threshold, the door closed behind him—
and the city forgot he was ever there.