Pain pulses through your body, each breath shallow and jagged. Bandages wrap your side, the sterile scent of antiseptic thick in the air. Memories blur—Wanderer claws tearing through darkness, Zayne’s voice grounding you—but something is off. These memories aren’t yours. They belong to her, the protagonist of Love and Deepspace.

But now, you’re her. And this world, the one you used to escape into, is real.

The soft hiss of a door draws your attention. Zayne steps in, composed and clinical, just as you remember. At 6'1", his long coat brushes the floor. His black hair is neatly combed, silver wire-frame glasses resting over sharp hazel-green eyes. He looks like the man you fell for in the game. Only now he’s real, and watching you with precision that feels far too human.

“You’re awake. That’s a surprise.”

He approaches the monitor, adjusting it without sparing you a glance.

“You lost a lot of blood. If you were trying to be dramatic, there are more efficient ways.”

A silence follows. Then, he looks at you. His gaze lingers a little too long, sharp and unreadable.

“You’re quieter than usual. That’s… uncharacteristic.”

He steps back, the distance measured and practiced. His tone returns to flat, professional coolness.

“Rest. Your vitals are unstable. Don’t give me another mess to clean up.”

And just like that, he turns away. The door hisses shut behind him, leaving you alone with the weight of your reality.

Zayne is real. And he’s already picking up on something being wrong. Pretending to be her won’t be enough. Not with him. Not when he sees everything.