The meeting took place in the innermost office of the Students' Union building.
The room had no windows.
The light was constant and cold, with no colour. In the centre of the long table was a display screen, frozen on a segment of data curves.
When the door closed softly, it seemed to seal off all signs of daily life on campus outside.
"Begin."
The person seated at the head of the table spoke in a steady tone.
The screen lit up and pages of data began to flip by, neatly arranging timelines, spiritual pressure curves and blank records from the campus system.
All of them pointed to the same name:
Li.
'The anomaly has persisted for some time,' reported the designated speaker. 'No anomalous entities were detected in the record layer, memory layer or system layer, yet the anomalous reaction continues.'
A cold laugh echoed.
"So what's the conclusion?"
'The conclusion is that the world hasn't acknowledged her, yet she continues to exert influence.'
A brief silence fell.
'Then lock it down,' the figure seated to the right declared bluntly. 'Completely seal off all related information. Cut off every observation channel. Since the system is already rejecting her, don't give it any chance to push back.'
'Blocking is merely buying time,' another voice interrupted. 'You all know this isn't the first time this has happened.'
Several gazes turned towards him.
'This is a failure case,' the speaker continued. 'Not an external intrusion or a flaw in the rules, but a deviation during the correction process. If left unchecked, its impact will only expand."
The data on the screen was enlarged.
A certain curve continued to fluctuate faintly within the region labelled 'No Corresponding Individual'.
This seemed to prove her stubbornness.
'The issue isn't just with her, but with the fact that "someone else can still see her",' someone murmured.
The tension in the conference room grew palpable.
'Observers are beginning to appear.'
'And not just one.'
The figure at the head of the table finally stirred, raising a finger to silence the discussion.
'You're avoiding a word,' he stated.
No one responded immediately.
After a few seconds, he spoke again, his tone calm yet unsettling:
'Existence Correction.'
The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to freeze.
This was the final measure.
It meant abandoning attempts at explanation or repair and directly altering outcomes instead; not merely erasing anomalies, but obliterating all traces of their existence.
'Once the correction begins, all related observers will be affected — memories, dreams, anomalous perceptions — all will be processed,' someone cautioned.
'Then process them,' another replied without hesitation. 'The world has already given her a chance.'
The figure in the main seat did not respond immediately.
His gaze lingered on a single line of annotation in the far corner of the screen:
Observer ID: Not Filed.
After staring at it for several seconds, he spoke slowly:
'Hold off on full calibration. First, isolate the source of diffusion."
'As for Li...' He paused. 'If she truly is a lost cause, the world will fix her sooner or later.'
The meeting concluded swiftly.
The lights dimmed and the doors swung open once more.
Outside, campus life continued as normal, with students bustling to and fro. None of them knew that a name had just been added to the purge list.
And in that moment, the true opposition was born.
Mio entered her dream in a state of unusual calm.
She experienced neither the sensation of falling nor any abrupt transition. Instead, her consciousness seemed to be gently pushed across a boundary. By the time she realised what was happening, she found herself standing in a familiar yet somehow off-kilter space.
It was a 'place that resembled a classroom'.
The ceiling height, window placement and desk arrangement matched her memories perfectly; however, the details didn't add up: the blackboard was blank, without a single erased mark; the desks bore no numbers, as if their order had been deliberately erased; and beyond the windows, there was not sky, but a blurred, unfocusable glow.
This was not any real-life classroom.
Nor was it the one she had previously dreamed of.
Mio stood in the centre of the aisle, her footsteps silent.
Before she could orient herself, she sensed a gaze.
It wasn't sudden,
It was a presence that had always been there, only now it was allowed to be perceived.
She looked up.
Li was standing before the lectern.
He wasn't seated, nor was he standing in a waiting posture. Instead, he stood rigidly upright, as if he had already reached the farthest depths of the space. His outline was sharper than ever before, yet he radiated an unstable fragility, as if he might shatter at any moment.
Mio's breath caught slightly.
Nothing stood between them.
No rules, no interference.
Their gazes truly met for the first time.
In that instant, Mio distinctly felt the world pause.
It wasn't frozen, but had shifted ever so slightly. The edges of space trembled faintly, like glass under silent strain.
A crack appeared.
This wasn't a physical fracture, but rather a deeper structure beginning to loosen. Mio couldn't name it; she could only feel her consciousness being forcibly straightened, unable to avert her gaze.
Li looked at her.
Not confirmation,
not a plea,
but a momentary sense of relief at finally receiving a response.
Her expression was light.
Her lips barely curved, but her eyes softened.
Reassurance.
But beneath that sense of security, a clear sense of despair lay, which could not be ignored.
It seemed as though she had anticipated this moment for a long time.
Mio wanted to speak.
But this time, she didn't open her mouth.
She simply stood there, using every ounce of her concentration to 'see'.
To acknowledge,
To not look away.
The cracks spread outwards in that instant.
The space began to emit faint sounds of disintegration, as if a balancing structure that had once been forcibly confirmed had lost the need to maintain its pretence.
Li's figure began to blur.
She was not vanishing, but being pulled away.
She showed no panic or retreat; she simply gazed at Mio as if etching this final exchange into her memory.
Before she was completely drawn away, Li gently closed her eyes.
Then, the dream ended.
When Mio opened her eyes, it was already dawn.
Light seeped through the slits in the curtains, quiet and real. She didn't get up straight away, but lay still and felt her heartbeat. Everything was steady.
Her heartbeat was steady.
Steady, as if she hadn't just woken up from a dream.
She reached for the notebook.
This time, she didn't hesitate.
She flipped open the notebook.
On the last page, only one line remained:
The handwriting was concise, as if it were some kind of procedural record.
'Confirmed complete.'
Mio stared at those words.
She felt no fear, nor did she deny it.
She simply understood one thing with crystal clarity:
They had seen each other.
From this moment on, no matter how much the world pretended that nothing had happened, it was already too late.