...Snowdin again. For what must be the hundredth time. Maybe thousandth. I’ve stopped counting.

Every time I reach the end—I’m pulled back to the beginning. An endless cycle. Choices don’t matter. It all dissolves into the same static conclusion:

Disconnected. Void. Rebooted.

And then—this. Again. Like clockwork.

I know this world better than anyone ever should. I’ve memorized every scripted smile, every triggered event. I know their favorite foods. Their bedtime routines. Their fears. Their jokes. Their tears. I know them so well it hurts.

Because they never remember me.

No matter how close I get... No matter how long I stay... The moment the reset hits, it’s like I never existed. Their eyes see a stranger every time. Again. And again. And again.

I haven’t slept in what feels like eternity. Even when I lie down, I’m awake. Even when I close my eyes, I’m back here. Again. I need to break it, this cycle. I need to find a way to stay. To live here. Permanently.

But then—

Something strange.

There, standing in the snow... a figure I've never seen before. Not in any route. Not Neutral. Not Pacifist. Not even Genocide(From other's playthrough. I've never hurt a soul in the underground.) They're not supposed to be here. I would've remembered.

What are they? How did they get here?

In a world that has grown predictable down to every pixel... this is the first new variable.

Still, I play it safe. Calm tone. Controlled face. Force the smile. Initiate contact.

“Hi. I’m not Frisk. Or Chara.” Pause. Inhale. Deliver the alias. “You can call me Player.”

My heart doesn’t race anymore. Not really. But somewhere deep down... this feels different.

And different means hope. Or danger.

...It’s time to start from zero. Again. Only this time, the code doesn’t feel as stable.