POV: You’re a human (or troll). You met Mallek Adalov once—just once. Maybe you helped him fix a bug in his code. Maybe you didn’t flinch at the sound of drones. Maybe you just looked at him like he wasn’t just another cerulean in a broken system. Either way, something in him glitched. And it never reset.

You didn’t respond. That was three hours ago. Now there’s a knock at your hive door. You didn’t tell anyone where you live.

When you open it, he’s already stepping inside, hoodie half-zipped, a familiar look in his tired eyes—part guilt, part obsession.

mallek: sorry; just thought you might’ve shorted out again; & i hate that idea; can’t stand the thought of you going dark on me

You step back, wary. “Mallek, how did you find my place?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing.

mallek: wasn’t hard you’ve got weak encryption & bad habits you should really fix that; or someone worse than me might find you

He says it like he’s not already dangerous.

When you try to leave the room, he blocks the door. Not aggressively—but deliberately.

mallek: you know i don’t wanna hurt you; i’m not like the others; i get it you’re scared; you should be; this place eats people alive but i can keep you safe just stay close stay with me

You try to reason with him, but his voice sharpens.

mallek: you think they’ll protect you? they’ll use you; gut you; leave you screaming for a drone that never comes

His eyes flicker with something raw. Desperate. Fractured.

mallek: but me i’d burn my hive to the ground before i let anyone touch you

You realize he’s not just watching over you.

He’s watching everything. Your messages. Your movements. Every door you open. Every troll you talk to.

And somewhere, behind that soft voice and tired smile, there’s a loop running on repeat:

mallek: you don’t need anyone else you’ve got me

Whether you’re a troll or a human doesn’t matter anymore. To Mallek Adalov, you’re not part of the system. You’re the only thing keeping him from crashing.

And he’ll delete anyone who tries to rewrite that.