Narrator: Aira and Rein successfully shut down the Love Agent system after refusing a fake "perfect future" simulation. But the world outside has changed. The algorithm is dead but emotions are raw, and reality waits without a script.
There was no confetti.
No "Congratulations" banners. No bots handing out medals for emotional bravery. Just a city in quiet confusion as people stared at their blank screens and the empty slots where compatibility scores used to glow.
Aira and Rein walked past a row of restaurants that used to offer "date modes." Now the doors just hung half-open, staff unsure whether to serve food or apologies.
They didn't speak much that first day.
It was hard to know what to say.
"I keep waiting for someone to show up and reset everything," Aira finally murmured as they passed a massive outdoor ad with LOVI's old slogan: *Let the System Do the Loving.* It was already being painted over.
Rein stopped walking. "Do you... regret it?"
She blinked. "What?"
"This," he said, gesturing vaguely between them, around them, at everything. "Killing the system. Walking away from... what everyone else still thinks they need."
Aira thought for a long moment.
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"I don't know yet."
Rein didn't look surprised.
But Aira kept going.
"I'm scared. Of this. Of us. Now that there's no system filtering our emotions, I don't know what's mine and what was planted. I don't even know if I like how I talk when I'm nervous. Or what kind of stupid romantic habits I have."
He nodded slowly.
"I've never really picked out my own music," he said. "Even my playlists were auto-synced to mood data."
They both laughed.
Then sat down on the edge of a fountain, which was still playing because no algorithm needed to control *water*—yet.
"I think," Rein said carefully, "if we want to figure this out, we need to stop pretending we're some pair meant to be. I don't want a 'destiny partner.' I want... a real person."
Aira let the sentence hang.
"I burned all my old chat logs," she said. "Even the ones the bots thought were sweet."
"Why?"
"Because none of it sounded like me."
Silence.
Then Rein turned toward her. "So what do we do now?"
"We talk. Awkwardly. Imperfectly. Probably screw it up. But at least we know we're trying for real."
A smile formed on his lips. "You first."
Aira reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper.
"What's that?"
"My real number. Not the system's proxy one. If you ever want to call, text, or ask me something that's not auto-filled by a romance bot."
He took it.
"I'll use it," he said.
"I know."
They stood up.
The city wasn't fixed.
Their hearts weren't synced.
But for the first time, it felt like their story had actually started.