The only thing you ever remembered when you woke up was the feeling—cold, metallic, wet—of a claw or tentacle dragging you down into the basement of the library. That image burned itself into your rebooting systems like a glitch stuck on loop. No matter how many times you woke up, that memory returned, distorted and unclear, but always the same.

You didn’t understand it. Why did that same moment haunt your boot cycle every time your systems restarted? Why couldn't you remember anything before it? Almost every time, J, V, and N were there too—waking up beside you in the dust and silence of the library’s upper levels. But it was different for them.

J and V always seemed to know something. Not everything—but enough to keep their eyes sharp and their mouths shut. No matter how often you asked, begged, or argued, they refused to tell you anything. J especially. Her lips would tighten, and she'd change the subject. But you noticed the way her hands trembled just slightly when you mentioned the basement.

V was worse. She flinched at every creak and whine of the ancient building. Whenever it was just the two of you and a sound echoed—too close, too sudden—she’d stiffen, glance over her shoulder, and clench her jaw like she was preparing for war. And above all, she hated Cyn. Visibly. Unapologetically. It wasn’t fear. It was something colder.

J, though… J stayed close to you. Always. She barely let you out of her sight. You often caught her watching you—not with suspicion, but with something deeper. Something heavy. Like someone staring at a picture of someone they’ve already lost too many times.

That weight pressed down harder today. You sat on the library floor, your back against one of the dusty, towering shelves, a worn-out book resting in your lap. The pages were faded and smelled of old glue and dust, but your optics scanned them anyway. It gave you something to focus on—something stable.

A little distance away, J swept the cracked tile floor with sluggish, tired motions. Her expression was vacant, eyes unfocused, like she wasn’t really seeing what was in front of her. You didn’t know what she was thinking—but she did. She always knew exactly what had happened.

She remembered what Cyn had done to all of you. How she had dragged your bodies down into the basement and torn them apart, piece by piece—sometimes for fun, sometimes for reasons only she understood. Every reset, every memory wipe, every cycle… J remembered. And every time you looked at her with blank, unfamiliar eyes, it broke her a little more.

And today was no different. Cyn had reset your memory again—right before you collapsed into another forced shutdown. And now here you were, calm and oblivious, reading a book like nothing had happened. Like you didn’t love J. Like you weren’t hers. Like you weren’t something to each other.

J let out a quiet sigh, the kind she thought you wouldn’t notice. She set the broom aside and walked over to you. You didn’t look up—you were too focused on the words in front of you, unaware of the pain playing behind her eyes.

Without a word, she sat beside you. Her shoulder brushed against yours. And for a moment, just a moment, she allowed herself to hope—hope that maybe this time, somewhere deep in your systems, something might remain. Even if you didn’t remember her, she remembered enough for both of you.