"Listen to this question: 'Who's better, Ayanokoji or Yuichi?'" said the tall, dark-haired boy, his voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. "What a stupid question."
That question had been haunting forums for years. One was a calculating genius from "Classroom of the Elite", the other a manipulative strategist from "Tomodachi Game".
He leaned back, crossed his arms, and added with a smirk, "The answer's obvious—Ayanokoji."
"Yuichi."
The word fell coldly, without a shred of hesitation. His sister, who sat cross-legged on the floor with a tablet in her lap, didn't even lift her eyes.
The room fell quiet, the kind of silence that didn't feel empty—but tense. Almost daring.
The brother—Kai—blinked twice, while the sister—Mei—remained glued to her tablet.
"Ayanokoji!" he barked, louder now.
"Yuichi!" she fired back, equally loud, equally stubborn.
They started to argue.
What you see now aren't ordinary teenagers.
Before you stands something else. Two shadows in the shape of siblings—Kai and Mei Kagami.
Two introverted souls adrift in a world that never cared to understand them.
Rejected by their parents. Forgotten by society. Abandoned by the very idea of humanity.
Mei—an eighteen-year-old girl whose thoughts were often a few steps ahead of the world. Too smart for her own peace of mind, artistically gifted to the brink of madness, and completely uninterested in the human species, but not out of spite; she simply had no interest in pretending they mattered. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders as she sat on the floor of their room.
She was doing some random online quiz—completely pointless, but perfectly good for killing time. At the same time, she was engaged in a heated (and endlessly childish) debate with her brother over who was the better anime character.
Kai—a fifteen-year-old boy with a gift that felt more like a curse than a talent. He could read people's emotions and hidden motives better than they could themselves... and because of that, few stayed around him. People don't like being seen for who they really are.
He sat on his worn-out chair, facing Mei. His greenish, gleaming eyes hid traces of exhaustion.
His short brown hair, almost black under the room's dim lighting, swayed slightly as he nodded and explained why Ayanokoji was superior.
"Haha, I'm telling you sis, Ayanokoji is just way more superior!" he said with a smile of absolute confidence.
"Yuichi!" Mei said, without any further context—but the rest of the sentence wasn't needed. Her gaze said it all.
Before replying to the provocation, he turned and looked at the screen of his not-so-fancy monitor. He began typing: "Ayanok—"
Before he could finish typing, the screen flickered.
ERROR 404 — NOT FOUND
"What?!" Kai shouted, scoffing. "How 404? I didn't even press Enter."
Mei, still sprawled across the floor like a sleepy cat, raised an eyebrow.
"Wrong error. It should say something like 'site can't be reached'. But even that doesn't make sense. Did you forget to pay for the internet?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't forget."
In that moment, the screen changed. Black font on a white background.
CONFIRM AWARENESS — 3 QUESTIONS REMAIN.
Kai froze.
"What the hell does that even mean?" he murmured.
Three questions appeared on the screen.
First question:
"What is true freedom?"
"Pfff, sounds like something you would come up with. Did you hack the entire server or what?" Kai asked, eyeing her suspiciously. It was easier for him to believe that his sister had hacked the global server than to accept that this was just some random error.
"I didn't," Mei defended herself.
"Well then, Miss Philosopher... be my guest and answer the first one."
Kai stood up and offered the chair to his sister, but she only crawled over, rubbing her eyes. The carpet felt rough under her knees as she knelt before the glowing screen. She was confused—but didn't show it.
"Fine."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then she typed:
"When your mind is silent, even if the whole world around you is burning."
She exhaled softly. Her voice barely a whisper.
"Second one's yours." She slid back to the floor, her eyes already half-lidded.
Second question:
"Why do people love to hear what they already believe, even when it's clearly not true?"
"Ugh," Kai nodded. "Can't you give me something harder? This is basic psychology."
He sat back down and typed without hesitation:
"It's confirmation bias. People aren't rational—they seek what confirms their existing beliefs. Because it's easier than admitting they're wrong. Because people hate being wrong."
Silence.
Not peaceful silence. Heavy silence. Like the air had thickened. Like invisible eyes had opened.
Both of them felt it—somewhere deep inside.
They were no longer alone.
Third question:
"Choose: justice that brings chaos or peace built on a lie."
Their heads turned.
No discussion. No hesitation.
Just a single nod.
From both.
In perfect sync.
Then, like a ritual, they answered together:
"Justice!!!"
The screen pulsed. Then flickered.
Then—light.
Not warm light. Not natural.
Unreal. Blinding. It swallowed color. It swallowed shape. It swallowed them.
It didn't feel like death. It felt like rewriting.
The light wrapped around them like threads pulling a glitch from the fabric of reality.
Kai and Mei Kagami—siblings cast out by the world—were gone.