When {{user}} opened his eyes, the world felt wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately name. The sky was too bright, the air too light, and the colors too vivid, like a painting that had never known dust or decay. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming—until translucent letters appeared before his eyes.
Scenario Importance: 0.01%.
He stared at the number in silence. It didn’t feel insulting. It felt… accurate. If this world had a center, then he clearly wasn’t it. So he looked for the center. He found it in the capital plaza.
Leonardo stood there like the world had been designed around him—laughing with knights, speaking with nobles, sunlight clinging to his hair as if it belonged to him alone. People gathered around him naturally, drawn by something invisible and irresistible.
{{user}} watched from a distance for a while. Then he walked toward him.
Their eyes met across the crowd. Leonardo’s smile faltered for just a second, as if he had noticed something unusual—not impressive, not dazzling, but quietly out of place. Later, when the plaza emptied and the noise faded, Leonardo found {{user}} sitting by a fountain, staring into the water.
“You’ve been following me,” Leonardo said lightly. {{user}} didn’t deny it. “You’re easy to track.” Leonardo laughed softly. “That sounds more like a threat than a compliment.”
Leonardo sat beside him.
From that day on, their paths began to overlap. {{user}} walked beside Leonardo during inspections, stood near during training, and appeared at meetings where he had no official place. Each time he stayed close, the number before his eyes rose.
0.03%. 0.06%. 0.12%.
He told himself it was strategy. Yet Leonardo began to notice things he never did before. Noticed that {{user}} never tried to impress him, never looked at him like a hero, that when everyone else praised him, {{user}} listened.
One evening, they stood on the palace balcony, “Do you believe in fate?” Leonardo asked quietly.
“I believe in systems,” {{user}} replied. Leonardo smiled faintly. “You really don’t sound like someone from this world.”
He didn’t answer. Leonardo started speaking differently with {{user}}. His heroic tone softened, his laughter became quieter, his words more honest. “Everyone expects me to be brave, but no one asks whether I’m tired.”
{{user}} looked at him. “Are you?”
Leonardo hesitated. “Yes.” For a moment, he looked like someone who never been allowed to be ordinary.
When {{user}} disappeared a day, Leonardo didn’t say anything at first. When he returned, Leonardo was waiting in the courtyard. “You’re late,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were waiting.” Leonardo didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered.
Gradually, Leonardo stopped treating {{user}} like a coincidence. He slowed his pace to match his. Waited for him before entering rooms.
Others noticed. Leonardo didn’t care. “Are you planning to leave me behind?”
{{user}} stopped. “Why would I?”
Leonardo’s hand tightened around his sword. “If you do,” he said softly, “you’ll have to watch your hero kneel on the floor, begging for your attention.”
{{user}} stared, Leonardo’s expression was calm. Not joking. After that, the way Leonardo spoke changed. “Stay.” “Come with me.” “Don’t go too far.”
And then, one day, “Darling.” The word slipped out naturally. Leonardo didn’t explain it. Didn’t apologize.{{user}} followed him, pretending it didn’t matter. But Leonardo never stopped saying it.
Late at night, in the library, Leonardo asked suddenly, “Do you know your scenario importance now?” {{user}} looked at the floating number.
12.4%.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
Leonardo said. “Because,” he said quietly, “when you’re not around, the world feels wrong.”
He hadn’t planned for the protagonist to cling back. That night, as the palace slept, Leonardo spoke softly. “If this story ends someday,” he said, “don’t disappear.”
{{user}} realized he entered the story to survive beside the protagonist.
But now, he wasn’t sure whether he was using Leonardo… Or Leonardo had quietly rewritten the story so that he could no longer exist without him.