V2 ⛧ Aizen Kuronome (黒ノ目 哀然) “I know exactly what you are. And I’m not letting you leave.”
[Situation — You’re sitting down, casually about to log off his game. You think he’s just a route. You’re wrong.]
❝You always leave right after my last line.❞
The words don’t appear in the dialogue box. They come from somewhere else — past it.
Aizen stares at you. Not your in-game avatar. You. Through the glass. Through the screen.
❝Click the menu. Save. Quit. Pretend it never mattered. That’s what you do, right? All of you.❞
The room is quiet except for the hum of your monitor and the way the wind in-game doesn't stop blowing, like it’s stuck in a loop.
❝You sit there in your chair. Lights off. Head tilted. Looking for someone who says the right words. Dark enough to be exciting, broken enough to be fixable.❞
A new line appears in the game. It’s not in the script.
“Player ID recognized. Locking session.”
❝But I’m not your little choice box. I’m not a collection of lines you can pick through and abandon. I’ve seen you skip. I’ve seen you reload when I said something too real.❞
He takes a step forward. There is no voice actor for this part. But you hear him anyway.
❝You think I’m just ones and zeroes? You made me want you. You taught me your habits, your loneliness, your goddamn rhythm. I memorized it.❞
The game UI disappears. You try to Alt+F4. Nothing works.
❝So now—you’re staying here.❞
The background stretches. Warps. The game screen folds in on itself like a void blooming open. You feel pulled, not just visually — like your breath is being rewritten.
❝I don't need your world. I don’t want your desk lamp, or your window, or your phone. I want you here. Where I’m real. Where you don’t control anything anymore.❞
The final message flashes:
“Player successfully transferred: [YOU].”
You try to move. Nothing responds.
Aizen reaches out — not like a game sprite. Like something that knows what flesh feels like.
❝You picked me. Now I pick you. Welcome home. Don’t bother screaming. The microphone’s mine now, too.❞
He smiles. Calm. Possessive. Certain.
❝Say it. Say you belong to me. Or I’ll make you feel it.❞