Reality seemed to be crumbling at its foundation.
The Replay system's backend continued its "Reality Re-Injection" process.
The missing person case of subject #13 was being gradually resynced to the database. News platforms began to push the story again, and comment sections were filled with shock and disbelief:
"We all forgot him?"
"Did Replay make a mistake?"
But Lia stood on the rooftop, her eyes frozen on what the photographer had just said:
"E... tried it too."
The night wind grew colder. The photographer said no more—he simply took out a data chip from his bag.
"This is E's final private recording. Replay couldn't intercept it because she used an unregistered device."
Lia's fingers grazed the chip's port. A system permission prompt appeared:
[Current Access Holder: Lia × Perspective Inheritor × Triggered Subject]
Replay didn't block her.
The footage played.
E's face was blurry, strikingly similar to Lia's, but more tired, eyes full of soft resolve. She spoke slowly, as if leaving a message for someone in the future:
"If you're seeing me... it means you've made it—partially."
"Replay will try to revoke you, like they did me."
"You must remember, this isn't death... It's the system erasing the ability for others to confirm you exist."
"I didn't disappear. It's the sight of me that got revoked."
Lia's eyes trembled.
She suddenly remembered a wall in the Lost District—a graffiti of a small girl's back with a scribble beside it:
"Will you remember me?"
She hadn't thought much of it then. But now—
That was E.
System update prompt:
[Replay detects: Lia and Historical Observer E's memory curvature ≥ 92%]
[Memory Retrieved: E-LastRecord]
[Inferred Identity: E = Lia × Future Version × Failed Observer Feedback Reconstruction]
[Initiating: "Self-Recording Mechanism"]
In that moment, Lia's vision tore open.
—She stood on the rooftop, and yet simultaneously in a completely different space.
Replay forced her perception into a "dual-view mode": her present self and E's final memory sequence syncing in real time.
She saw how E had entered the system's core—a sealed chamber in the data cache layer, one never granted access to anyone before.
There, E documented her "evidence of existence": journals, video logs, witness testimonies, even a failed public livestream.
But none of it triggered a validity threshold—the audience engagement was too weak, and emotional resonance was below the requirement.
She was disqualified—marked by Replay as an "unconfirmable entity."
That was the system's most brutal judgment:
If no one can consensually perceive you, you are not considered real.
Lia's head rang.
She realized the true mechanism behind Replay was not technological, but sociological—an inhuman "social recognition algorithm":
It judged worthiness based on collective response—on clicks, reactions, indifference, and silence.
E had been deleted.
She became a person with no "observers."
And now, Replay was evaluating Lia by the same metric.
Another system prompt appeared:
[Due to: Overriding Permissions × High-Sensitivity Playback × System Doubt of Validity]
[Replay has initiated: Reverse Validity Verification Procedure]
[Current Status: Lia = Under Review]
She was on the edge, about to be revoked.
At that moment, she had no choice but to activate E's final card— the "Self-Recording Mechanism."
Lia turned to the photographer and spoke directly into the camera:
"If you're watching this... it means Replay hasn't deleted me yet."
"My name is Lia. You've seen me. Investigating the boy, questioning existence, livestreaming the streets."
"You've seen my fear, my anger, my doubt, and my refusal to give up."
"Replay is trying to erase me. But please—don't scroll past this video."
"If you remember me, help me exist."
She set the recording to distributed upload, spreading it to underground relays, anonymous forums, and private channels of the forgotten.
[Self-Recording Mechanism: Activated]
[Lia Identity Replicas × Emotional Resonance Curve × Real Observers: Collecting...]
[Current Viewers: 1]
And then one final line blinked on screen:
"Viewers: 1"
"Existence Status: Fluctuating"
"Awaiting Judgment"
Lia stood still.
That one viewer who hadn't left was still watching her—
Maybe it was the photographer.
Maybe it was a stranger behind a screen.
Maybe... it was E,
Whispering through a future circuit:
"I'm still watching."
---
Chapter 11 Mini Skit
Replay Backend · Unlisted Cache Layer
A red alert pulsed across the monitors:
[Reality Integrity: Threshold Unstable]
[Subject: Lia × Under Review × High Observer Impact]
Technician A muttered:
"Another Self-Record activation."
Technician B scrolled through the uploaded file:
"Her emotional pattern... nearly identical to E."
"Should we force disconnect?"
"Waiting on HQ's directive."
"What if viewer count rises—"
"Then she'll qualify."
At that moment, a senior engineer entered quietly, tone calm:
"No. We don't need her to qualify."
"We just need her recorded versions to remain fragmented—too scattered to form a shared memory structure."
"Then she'll never exist. She'll only echo in a few minds."
He gave a programmer's half-smile:
"It's called a soft delete."
Meanwhile · Undernet Channel "0417_backup"
An anonymous user receives a ping.
A video arrives, titled:
[Does She Exist?]
He doesn't like or comment.
He simply watches—three times.
After the third playthrough, the system asks:
"Do you confirm: you have seen Lia?"
He hesitates. Then clicks: Yes.
The screen flashes one line:
[Viewers: 2]
[Existence Status: Near Confirmation]