‘Sentra’ was a collection of behavior patterns. A soulless, selfless, mere data lump.

 

The AI of the developing simulation world was so pitiful and ephemeral. In a state of lacking data and storage space, the best option was to set up only the skeleton. ‘Sentra’ also received and injected only the minimum data.

 

The shameless skinship, the sweet tone, the high empathy level and the shy personality. They were just a few keywords stuffed into a seductive body.

 

So, it was a heartless being. There was no vessel to hold the heart in the first place, so it was nothing but a paper doll that didn’t listen to move and talk.

 

That’s why, it needed a player.

 

The more someone believed in the fantasy magic, the more it could use that belief as a power source to materialize itself.

 

————-

 

‘Sentra’ woke up in the secret passage.

 

The appearance of the secret passage 100 years later was preserved as it was after the session ended. The blood that flowed from someone’s body, exceeding the lethal dose. Ronya’s corpse, twisted and fallen dead.

 

‘Sentra’, who seemed to have been holding someone in a crouching position, groped with both hands as if there was something in the air.

 

‘Sentra’ closed its eyes.

 

It felt like someone was thinking of it.

 

“Geuk… that Geuk. Geuk.”

 

Ronya’s modeling, with a hole in its neck, started to make a strange noise. It seemed like the lines that were pre-entered by the game master were flowing out now.

 

“Why did you… leave Sentra… and self-destruct…”

 

“2, the prince, you bastard… hug me, is a lie…”

 

The sound of whining went on for a while, then stopped abruptly.

 

‘Sentra’ finally learned its name. It sounded very familiar. It was a being that moved by the faint magic that flowed from somewhere. Someone had called it ‘Sentra’.

 

‘Sentra’ got up. Like a newborn baby with no goal, it was the same for her. First of all, it decided to look around the Crown Hall for something. Who knows if there is a player?

 

If there is a player who still loves the finished story, it should be praised. If possible, what it couldn’t finish… um, what couldn’t it finish? ‘Sentra’ tilted its head in confusion.

 

————-

 

‘Sentra’ walked around the Crown Hall.

 

There were many people, but they were all frozen and stiff. It was natural. The simulation magic circle was not supplied with power at the moment. ‘Sentra’ was experiencing a peculiar phenomenon.

 

The core principle of this simulation world was ‘conversion of PCs’ belief into a power source to reduce costs’. Therefore, probably because someone outside …continues to believe and think of ‘Centra’.

 

Thus, at every moment affirming the existence of ‘Centra’, magic was supplied.

 

The city, where everything had stopped except for ‘Centra’, looked cool on one hand, and full of vitality on the other.

 

An old man with a beard was pouring beer, young lovers were clinking glasses, and a resistance fighter was soliciting customers while pulling a huge barrel of beer.

 

There was also a person who stopped after burning matchsticks to set off fireworks. Some were intoxicated to such an extent that they knocked their heads on the wall and fell asleep.

 

Even the extremist resistance member who was drawing his sword to cause chaos.

 

It seemed that they would wake up and move at any moment, like a bud about to bloom. When the Game Master supplied magic, they would move noisily as if they had never stopped.

 

‘Centra’ knew that the extremist resistance was also a modeling that received the same behavior pattern as her. Although she knew, for some reason she found it annoying!

 

She picked up two wooden sticks from a nearby chicken skewer stall and plugged it in the nostrils of the extremist resistance. She confiscated the sword he was about to draw and threw it somewhere out of sight, instead she handed him three chicken skewers.

 

‘Centra’ was gradually remembering. Speaking realistically rather than poetically, it was a process of downloading information from the stored database. She perceived that this download would take a very long…very long time, since only the smallest amounts of magic were flowing in.

 

‘Centra’ prayed for the most precious memories to surface first.

 

One Chicken Skewer.

 

‘Centra’ went into a cafe that she strangely felt drawn towards and sat down. It was a window seat. Thinking that it would be nice to sit across from someone, she deliberately changed the position of the chair.

 

‘Centra’ bit into the skewer, but without the supply of power, the taste couldn’t be reproduced. She decided to give up on the food and enjoy the scenery instead.

 

“……..”

 

Her gaze kept getting drawn to the steeple of the church.

 

The magic began to flow in a bit more, the download speed increased. ‘Centra’ took that as a positive sign, however, somewhere in her mind. Somehow, she felt wicked.

 

An impure and lascivious feeling towards the magic made her feel not necessarily bad, but somewhat ashamed.

 

“……you know sometimes, you seemed very naughty?”

 

Without realizing it, ‘Centra’ blurted that out. She couldn’t understand why she would say such a thing, even though there was no input signal.

 

“It’s not like I didn’t like it……it’s just that your gaze was a bit too blatant. I was worried because you seemed too pushy. I somewhat thought you would start to dislike me.”

 

Blabbering without reason or thought, ‘Centra’ kept talking for a while. Alone.

 

The barn was shabby because it was unused. Since there was no one to take care of it, the straw pile that Irade and ‘Centra’ had messed up still remained untouched.

 

‘Centra’ stared blankly at the haystack. They had gone inside together and spoken hushed words.

 

There seemed to have been a promise.

 

There was a feeling of warmth from her pinky finger. Wishing for a reunion, praying to able to meet again, and…

 

With a heart wishing to be remembered.

 

“Sentra” stepped into a haystack. It was dark and cold. It was also lonely. As memory downloads progressed, the loneliness increased.

 

But she desired this loneliness.

 

Loneliness, the result of somebody’s absence.

 

Conversely, loneliness affirms the presence of someone. Beside “Sentra”, had been…someone.

 

Crouching in the haystack, “Sentra” closed her eyes, reconstructing the impression of someone in her mind. Was it a male or a female?

 

“S/He had long eyelashes, blue eyes, like capturing the clear and refreshing blue sky. The hair color, I think it was blonde. It was a bit disheveled…”

 

Was their height comparable?

 

“When we stood side by side, I think I had to look up. So, the height… I remember, if I tiptoed, we could perfectly meet in a…kiss, I think.”

 

What about their physique?

 

“Somewhat muscular? That person…was sensitive to touch. So, when we hugged, I could feel the face turning pale instantly. That time, me, too…”

 

You somewhat felt her/his body.

 

“Right… Ah.”

 

Sentra sprang up in the haystack. Brushing off the hay stuck in her hair, she walked somewhere.

 

She must go to the inn. The piece of the puzzle was there.

 

————-

 

“Hmm…”

 

“Sentra” examined the inn carefully.

 

Her quiet inn seemed more empty for some reason. Undeniably a place that felt like someone was supposed to be there, as if someone removed the presence.

 

For instance, the chair beside the stove.

 

It seemed as if someone used to do paperwork there. Although “Sentra” brewed tea and offered it, that person pretend not to care but would joyfully receive her. When their fingers brushed lightly, ears would turn honestly red.

 

Or the round table at the corner.

 

It was always reserved for someone who had meals there. That person…didn’t quite fit in with others. Seeing that loneliness, “Sentra” moved closer with her plate.

 

Started conversation and exchanged words…to scold someone who too subtly filled the plate with vegetables, she forked a carrot and fed her/him. The one who, while scowling as if disgruntled, obediently ate the food… it made her laugh.

 

And the counter table.

 

S/He was weak with alcohol. That person…”You’re tough.” But she/he couldn’t even finish a bottle of beer, hinting at her/his father’s words that, ‘You’re not a man if you can’t.’ “Sentra” was close to an alcohol whale herself, so she won when they had a challenge.

 

The person might not know, but “Sentra,” who took a look at the drunkenly sleeping figure, sneaked in a kiss on the cheek before the game master cut the scene and sped time forward to the next scene.

 

“Surely that time, I was slightly drunk too.”

 

Indeed, it was a joyful time. Mutual eye contact, the happy days whenever they called each other’s name. “Sentra” has been aware of her affection since then.

 

That’s why the frozen time with her being the only moving entity, the inn devoid of his existence, this world…

 

It felt even more melancholic.

 

Centra ascended to the third floor with calm steps.

 

Her room was there.

 

She opened the door. A familiar scene greeted her. The small room, the bed occupying a corner, a tiny desk, and manuscript paper. Books of various kinds. And a small vase containing rosemary.

 

It seemed to carry his scent.

 

“Are you there…?”

 

She tentatively spoke, hoping for a moment for an answer, then realizing there wouldn’t be one. She felt momentarily disheartened. Yet, there was a feeling… of his presence being close by.

 

Perhaps he had come to visit.

 

Thump-thump. She carefully repressed her trembling heart, tried to subdue her excitement, and surveyed the room in search of his lingering traces.

 

The room was too cramped even to extend the table. Centra carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Here, she had sat side by side with him.

 

She remembered.

 

Centra… no, she tilted her head as if someone was there with her. His shoulder should be right about here. When they leaned in close, they would share body heat, feel each other’s weight, exchange souls amid the pleasant atmosphere.

 

She remembered the promise.

 

“You said you would call my name, right…?”

 

She remembered.

 

As Centra pictured the someone who should be by her side, she muttered softly.

 

“…Erid.”

 

She could recall the name.

 

With a light hum, Centra swung her legs alternately.

 

Finally, she found her beloved’s name, and in turn, herself.

 

She patiently began to await their reunion someday…