Silence.
Cracked wood. Dust floating in the air. A perfect dice-sized dent in the wall.
I was still there.
Planted. Like a damn wall ornament.
And did Lyra help me?
Nope.
Not even a glance of guilt.
She just sat there, legs kicked up, munching on dried mango slices like a squirrel in heat—completely content watching my square soul get absorbed by drywall.
Apparently, this was part of her "post-arrow ritual."
Every time she gave up on me for the day, she'd sit down with a mango slice like it was some sacred rite.
"You were dead, okay?"
"The mango was the offering."
"I just… ate it. It felt wasteful to throw it out."
So yeah.
She literally said I was dead, and she paid her respects every day.
With snacks.
So…
I tried to wiggle.
Tried to twist.
And then…
I hopped.
POP!
I unplucked myself from the wall like a limp balloon deflating.
And floated.
Wait—
I floated.
No dramatic glow.
No divine orchestra.
Just me.
Stable. Balanced. In the air.
Perfect smooth.
Like floating was my default setting all along.
Then I walked to the right.
Well—hovered.
Inside the cube, it felt like one of those TokTok videos where someone's legs are sprinting like crazy…
but they're clearly not moving at all.
Except I was.
When I "walked" to the right, the dice actually glided.
My legs did their little running-loop animation, not even touching the ground.
Just a floating cube, drifting through space—
Like some cursed JRPG character with a bugged movement cycle—
Vibing through the void with maximum confidence and zero context.
But then I noticed something else.
I felt stronger.
Like… not "oh I leveled up" stronger.
More like something inside me had finally clicked.
The mana rotation system I built "years" ago—the loop that kept my form from collapsing?
It somehow had evolved.
No more focus. No more balance checks.
No more "oops I blinked and now I'm a meatball."
It was automatic now.
Then, experimentally, I tried to descend.
Tried to float down.
And for some reason…
I imagined taking a dump.
Like physically pushing something out.
Downward force initiated.
I slowly began to sink.
"Gravity unlocked by constipation cosplay. Noted."
Then I tried floating higher.
Didn't overthink it. Just—
I mentally overdosed on imagination and got elevation privileges.
Boom. I was high.
Literally.
"No thoughts. Only elevation."
I didn't even try to float.
I just… did.
The self-loop no longer needed conscious input.
I might've accidentally invented auto-hover mode.
If I can do this without thinking…
Then what if…
"What if I upgrade this system to an i15 build and just shoot fireballs with my fart someday?"
I cackled internally.
Dangerously.
Magic by pure vibes.
No hand signs. No chants. Just ✨ think and explode.
Well, that's future me's problem.
For now?
I was just enjoying the float.
Like a bird in the sky—
except I was indoors, in a house, with Lyra and her mangoes.
Damn, I was hungry.
And her mango?
Looked suspiciously tempting.
I hadn't eaten anything in eleven years.
Not fruit. Not vegetables. Not even grass.
I was a celestial cube monk, running on depression and fumes.
So naturally...
I glided toward the mango.
Eyes locked.
Focus sharpened.
The world blurred.
Didn't even realize how fast I was moving.
There it was—
Warm, radiant, perfect.
The kind of thing that makes you question your morals and your religion.
I was inches away.
The bite that would save my soul.
I could taste redemption.
And just as I was about to cross the sacred threshold—drift into biting range—
Lyra:
"Wait. Are you FLOATING now?!"
I froze.
Mid-air.
Mid-glide.
Mid-dream.
My soul wept.
My mangoes…
Then I spun in the air like a smug Beyblade.
"Yup. I guess I'm officially a mage now! I have a ROOT, you know."
She blinked. Twice. Eyebrow loading. Processing my words. "Since when?"
"Since forever!" I barked defensively.
She stared harder.
Eyebrow rising into stratosphere.
"Explain. Immediately."
I imagined inhaling more mana.
Just a little puff.
Boom. I floated a little higher.
Elevated by spirit fumes.
Smug mode: mildly active.
Nervous guilt? Also… active.
"So, uh… long story short—you know how I was just a soul?
A thought? No limbs. No body. "
"I may have developed a mana body. Inside the cube.
By myself."
Her eyebrow rose so high I swear I saw it enter another plane.
"How?! You don't even have hands! Or a brain!"
"...Thanks."
She crossed her arms.
"Go on."
My eyes flicked toward the mango.
Still sitting there.
Glorious. Half-touched. Beckoning.
I'm still eyeing the mango... she just left it hanging right there. Ugh. Focus.
"Okay, okay—so I started with what Kevin taught you.
The Root lessons. Remember?"
She squinted.
"You actually paid attention?
I thought you were just some idiot cube who mentally blacks out when left alone."
"Thank you, sweetie, for the kind and accurate praise."
"Anyway. I watched. Mimicked. Practiced.
At first, I could only sense mana. Just faint threads."
"Then I realized—I already had a Root. From the very beginning."
"I started rotating it. Like that thing Kevin taught you.
Eventually, I anchored a basic loop. Just enough to stabilize my form."
"That became my first body.
Transparent. Wobbly. Jello-tier.
But it worked."
"Then I planted a thought into my core to keep the loop running automatically.
Next, I built a container—like a vessel to house the loop."
"And finally, I created a gravity core to draw mana in, and stabilize the structure."
Her mouth opened a little.
I kept going. Too far in now. While eye-ing the mango.
"...Then I got greedy."
Her eye twitched.
"Greedy?"
"I tried to embed a second thought loop."
"I figured—hey, what if I could multitask? Like, what if I could split my thinking? One mind focused on keeping the body running—keeping it stable—and the other dedicated to more advanced tasks, things I couldn't do with just a single loop. I needed more. I wanted more control. More power."
"So I carved it in. A parallel will. I thought it'd make me smarter, more capable."
A beat.
"And then the cube exploded."
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I felt something bad about to happen. The room temperature was not normal, things were shaking, the mango was shaking maliciously.
Then she said:
"You exploded your own soul…
because you tried to grow a second mind...
Inside your already unstable spirit...
And blew yourself up?!"
"I thought it was fun at the time." I said, backing up a few inches.
Mango abort alert mission rang in my mind.
"Fun?"
Abort mango mission. Abort mango mission.
"YOU. MADE. ME. CRY. FOR. YEARS."
"Okay yeah that one's on me—WAIT—"
THWACK.
She yeeted me mid-sentence.
Straight back into the same hole in the wall.
I didn't even bounce this time.
I just slotted in like a USB drive on the first try.
Pain. Precision. Humiliation.
Like those first nights of maidens'.
A silence followed.
A dangerous silence.
Then her voice dropped.
Low. Stern. Goddess-tier wrath building in her throat.
"Out. Come here. Now."
I wiggled slightly.
"Y-yes, YES SIR!"
My voice cracked like a guilty squirrel.
I slowly peeled myself off the wall again.
Plop.
I floated midair like a condemned balloon.
She narrowed her eyes, arms crossed again, my mind straight without distraction, no more mango.
"Then what happened?"
"After you exploded. Keep talking."
My voice shrank to ant-size.
"Right… yeah. So…"
I talked with my head tilted downward, floating in shame.
"After the explosion… I, uh… blacked out. Hard.
That was probably the first time you heard me scream.
I still can't forget it. The pain… it chills me even now. Like soul frostbite—it was the cold stab of isolation, the ache that only made sense when it was real."
I muttered, not sure if I was still shaken from the trauma… or because I couldn't see the mango anymore.
I hovered in place, doing slow-motion pacing loops in midair.
"When I woke up, I was just… a thought again.
No body. No light. No anything.
I couldn't even scream. Just float inside my own Root."
"I was terrified."
Her gaze softened slightly.
But only slightly.
"I didn't rebuild right away.
I waited.
I didn't dare touch the loop again for… I don't even know how long.
Time didn't feel real in there."
"Then one day… I felt something outside.
You. Crying.
I don't know how I knew it was you, but I did."
"It hurt. A lot.
Maybe that pain brought back my will.
Or maybe your crying pulled me out."
I threw in some extra sentiment.
You know.
Bootlicker mode.
Just in case.
"Either way… I tried again."
"This time… slowly."
My voice dropped.
"No second loops. No greed. Just… rebuilding. Piece by piece."
I looked away.
"And then… I waited. Until I was stable enough.
Until I knew I wouldn't collapse again."
"And that's when I finally… opened my senses to the outside."
A beat.
"So…" I added sheepishly,
"Technically, yes. I've… been awake for a while."
Her eyes twitched.
Her gaze sharpened.
She just… stared.
And then—
SHE MOVED.
A flick of the wrist.
WHOOSH—!
Her fingers danced.
A stick materialized out of nowhere.
She caught it one-handed.
Like a damn action figure with DLC.
Lyra narrowed her eyes, her mouth set in a tight line. The playful banter was gone, replaced by something deeper.
Then, she muttered—low, furious:
"So you DELIBERATELY let me wait for eleven. YEARS?!"
BAM.
She swung like it was the World Series.
CRACK.
Clean contact.
Straight homerun.
I hit the wall again. The third time now, my body fitting into the hole like it had been made for me. No bounce. No resistance. Just shame.
And a few drywall chunks falling down in slow motion.
"I didn't know it was already eleven years!!"
"I thought it was still… that same day!" I croaked from inside the wall.
I peeked out slightly, wobbling.
"Uh… how did you bring that stick out?
Don't tell me you've got those magic storage ring things now?!"
She tilted her chin up.
Grinned like a smug cat.
"Yup! I'm strong now."
And then she winked.
Like this was normal.
Like summoning weapons out of nowhere just to abuse me was casual afternoon activity.
I don't know whether I should be proud…
Or scared for my cubic life.
A silent then...
"So…" she said suddenly, voice lighter.
"You really have a body now?"
I floated silently in the wall.
"…Technically, yes."
Her eyes lit up.
"WOW."
And just like that—
The danger level spiked again.
"Can I see it?" she asked, practically bouncing.
"C'mon! I wanna know what are you! We've been together since I was born!"
I pressed deeper into the hole.
"You know I'm trapped here forever, right?"
"Cube body. Inside. Not out. A dice. You can't see anything."
She paused.
A beat.
Then she said—
"Okay then…"
"Let's try it your way."
I blinked.
"My what?"
She raised her fingers to her temple.
"You talked to me in my mind all the time, right?
So if I focus hard enough—maybe I can enter yours too."
I panicked.
"Hold on—hold on—NO. That's not how this works."
"I never went into your mind!"
She squinted.
"You didn't?"
"NO. Do you think I'd willingly enter that random jungle of emotional chaos??
That place is like a purgatory run by a sugar-addicted maniac.
I'd lose my soul in there, Lyra."
"Heh. It's fun though."
I choked.
"That was NOT a compliment!!"
"Anyway I just spoke. That's all. I directed my voice to you.
Like tossing a thought through a crack in the wall. I don't even know how it worked!"
"Then I'm tossing myself through the crack now. Fair trade. Let me see what's insid—"
Lyra (cutting off her own sentence mid-"insid—")
SKRRRRCHH—BZZTT
A ripple tore through the cube space.
And then—
Right in front of me—
She dropped in.
Literally.
Lyra fell from above like a glitchy angel with no loading animation.
Feet first. Knees bent. Slight bounce on landing.
She stood upright. Blinking.
We both stared.
Frozen.
Stunned.
Completely, utterly perplexed.
Her eyes were wide.
My metaphorical jaw was on the floor.
Even the air paused—like reality itself was buffering.
I'd seen her a thousand times from inside this space—
But never like this.
Never this close.
My heart did a badum.
My nerves tripped over themselves.
And Lyra?
She looked nervous too.
Flustered. Surprised.
Her eyes scanned me up and down like she wasn't sure if I was real... or she was.
Then, awkwardly, she broke eye contact.
Looked around—arms slightly raised like she was T-posing on arrival.
"…Whoa. I was just sending a thought, and suddenly—"
She wiggled her fingers.
"Why does this place feel so real? Like, I can feel my hands. Look!"
She pinched her cheek.
Hard.
Then yelped.
"That's not— That makes no sense! You don't even have a vessel in here!"
I said that out loud.
I think.
Either way, my mouth moved without permission.
Probably because of the badum still echoing in my chest.
"Wait wait wait—did I unconsciously manifest your soul-body using my internal mana system???
I don't even understand anything right now!"
She looked just as confused.
And somewhere deep in my core, I felt it.
A faint resonance. A pulse.
Like our Roots had… synced?
I think her soul reached out and answered mine.
It didn't feel like a random accident.
It felt... familiar. Like something I'd been waiting for without knowing.
(No time to think — she was already poking around.)
Her eyes glittered.
Mischief Level: Activated.
Lyra smirked:
"So you built me a hot body and invited me into your private mind palace?"
She leaned in slightly. Smirking.
"Boy. You are naughty."
I was (short-circuiting):
"HELLO?! You're the one who barged in uninvited???"
Lyra (grinning):
"Mmhm. You know what they say—if the door's open, don't blame the guest."
She giggled.
Naughtily.
Then I was sputtering:
"That wasn't a door!! AND NOTHING WAS OPEN!!"
I was losing composure fast.
And about three seconds from spiritually fainting.
And apparently… so was she.
Because then it began.
"Wait—how old are you even??" she blurted.
"Why do you look so young?! Who cut your hair?? Why are you dressed like after coming home from funeral? What's with the dice necklace? Do you look more like your mom or your dad? Why is it so dark here?! Where's the furniture??"
She spun in place, arms flailing slightly.
"There's no bed?! No chairs?! Where are you supposed to sit if you get tired?! Boring! What if someone gets cold?!—"
And that's when she said it.
"This place feels… lonely."
The word hit like a thunderclap.
Lonely.
I froze.
She noticed.
And froze too.
Her voice trailed off.
Her hands slowly lowered.
I looked at her.
No more memories. No more illusions. She was here. For real. Breathing, blinking, talking,standing right in front of me.
After all these years, all this silence, all this isolation—
There was someone else in this room.
Someone warm.
Someone her.
A second ago, I was so proud that I had a body again.
But now?
Now I had something else.
Someone else right beside me.
I broke.
I actually broke. Tears fell. The floodgates opened. It was sudden, raw, unrelenting. I hadn't realized how much I needed this—how much I needed her—until now.
Just—snap.
And I was crying.
Again.
Like a kid who never stopped falling.
"Wait—what?! W-WHY are you crying??"
Lyra panicked instantly, rushing toward me like she'd just shattered something priceless.
Her concern was clear, but it was masked by her awkward laughter. She was still trying to make sense of me, of us, and maybe, in a way, of herself.
"Is it because I yelled?! I'm sorry! Was it the outfit joke?! The chair thing?? D-Don't cry! Why are you—"
But I couldn't answer.
Because she was here.
And that was everything.
Her panic wavered—morphed into something quieter.
Softer.
More fragile.
"…Wait," she whispered.
"Are you crying because… I'm here?"
And that's when she cried too.
No filter.
No shame.
Just two hearts breaking open, trying to patch over years of silent grief.
Later—after the sobs died down, and the silence turned warm instead of heavy—I looked at her.
Truly looked.
"Lyra… I've been alone in here for so long.
And when I saw you—really saw you—
I was just… happy."
I gave a small laugh, watery and honest.
"So happy I didn't know how to handle it."
She sniffled. Wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Then I smiled at her.
A little nervous. A little embarrassed.
But certain of one thing.
"Can I ask you something?" I said quietly.
She tilted her head, eyes still red.
"Huh?"
"…Would it be okay if I touched you?
I know you're right here, but I just…
I need to feel it.
To know this is real.
That you're real.
I just… I really hope this isn't another dream…" I whispered, my voice trembling in the silence that followed.
My heart pounded against my chest, the air thick with something more than just breath.
Her eyes widened—just a little.
Then, without a second of hesitation—
"Why not?"
So I stepped forward.
Slow. Hesitant. Like the floor might shatter beneath me.
My hand trembled as I reached out—
Not for her hand.
Not for her face.
Just gently… toward her sleeve.
Just enough to touch.
Just enough to feel.
I shook my head.
And in this cube—where no sun had ever touched—
That single moment lit up my entire world.
Her presence felt like sunlight.
Without another thought, I hugged her.
Tightly.
Afraid she might vanish.
But she didn't.
She stayed.
Warm. Real.
Imprinting herself into my mind like a memory that refused to fade.
Like an anchor.
"So… do I feel weird?" she asked softly and clearly she was flustered.
I didn't answer. I couldn't find the words. My heart was still racing, and I felt the warmth of her presence wrap around me, making everything else feel distant, almost dreamlike.
Her breath against my neck, the soft tremor in her voice—it felt like something fragile I didn't want to shatter.
I just held her tighter, reminding myself that I wasn't alone anymore.
The sensation of her being so close… it made everything feel more real than it had in a long time.
But then before it got awkward—
I remembered something.
And using all my life's worth of luck and foolish courage…
I grabbed it.
Squeezed it.
Betting my soul… and my pride…
On both reckless hands.
Quick. Clean. Precise.
Both hands.
Minimal movement. Maximum impact.
Imprinting every detail deep into my mana cells.
Then—retreat!
I ninja-dashed backward with the grace of an ageless shadow warrior.
Graceful, deadly.
And absolutely unprepared for what came next.
Obviously, I failed.
She's a mage.
She's long-range.
She doesn't need to chase.
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA—WHERE ARE YOU TOUCHING ME?!!"
Lyra shrieked like a kettle possessed by divine judgment.
She didn't even need to move.
Just raised both palms—
Wind magic. Direct. To. Face.
I got yeeted.
Again.
Fourth time's the charm.
Straight into the wall dent.
Didn't even bounce.
I slid down like a defeated sticker slapped by karma.
She stood there.
Back turned.
Ears red.Cheeks glowing. Breathing uneven.
Arms crossed protectively—either shielding the treasure…
Or guarding the imprint I just carved.
Victory.
After these 16 years?
"Dummy. Dumb. DICE!!"
She stomped once.
And vanished from the cube.
Silence returned.
But I broke it.
Softly. Sincerely. Smugly.
"…The mango tasted okay."
"A bit… tsundere."