Himeko's coffee shop was like an isolated island.
Within several hundred meters, there was only this one building.
An intentionally created sense of unreality.
Pushing the door open, the wind chimes jingled.
The air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee and the quiet scent of wooden tables and chairs.
Himeko, from behind the counter, looked up, her gentle smile just right.
"Welcome, both of you. Would you like a complimentary pour-over coffee?"
Phainon shook his head slightly, "Sister Himeko, two glasses of plain water will do."
He looked ahead.
In the corner booth, several figures were quite relaxed.
Silver Wolf wore headphones, her fingers creating afterimages on a screen as she chewed bubblegum.
March 7th was holding her phone, searching for the perfect angle to photograph a tiramisu.
Kafka sat quietly, propping her chin on one hand.
Her purple eyes cut through the noise, carrying a knowing smile, and landed precisely on Phainon.
That gaze was completely different from everyone else's around her.
Terrifyingly clear-headed.
As if she wasn't an actor in the play, but an observer just like Phainon.
"I heard you threw a tantrum on set?"
Silver Wolf took off one headphone, her voice full of excited schadenfreude, "You even hit Zandar? Not bad, Phainon, you're getting more temperamental."
March 7th immediately leaned over, her face full of concern for gossip, "Really? Tell me, what exactly happened?"
Phainon's gaze passed over them and met Kafka's directly.
"Where is Elio?"
Kafka's smile deepened, as if she had long anticipated his arrival and this question.
She raised a slender finger, pointing towards the end of the corridor, she really wanted to continue watching this good show, "The room at the very end."
"But, I must warn you, he's been in a very bad state recently, he's locked himself away for several days and won't see anyone."
Silver Wolf chimed in, "Ugh… he's probably gone crazy from writing scripts, the poor guy."
As if remembering something, she added, "Hey, you're not thinking of beating him up, are you? I'm warning you, he's much more fragile than Zandar."
Phainon didn't respond directly.
He turned and walked straight into the back of the coffee shop.
"I'll wait for you here."
Mydei didn't follow, sitting in the spot closest to the door, like a silent guardian.
Phainon nodded slightly.
The trust between him and Mydei needed no words… Phainon stood before the innermost door.
He raised his hand and knocked.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Inside, there was dead silence.
Phainon no longer waited.
He stepped back, gathered strength, then abruptly kicked.
Bang—!
The wooden door groaned and fell inward.
The scene behind the door made Phainon pause for a moment.
Inside the room, the air was foul, mixed with the smell of sweat, paper, and despair.
Countless crumpled manuscript pages covered the floor, piled into small mountains.
Walls, ceiling, floor… every visible surface was covered with frantic formulas and symbols.
A young man in a white short-sleeved shirt was curled up in a corner chair.
He looked no older than fourteen or fifteen, hugging his knees, his face buried deep in his arms, his body trembling slightly with fear.
He was like a startled beast, gnawing at his fingernails, mumbling incoherently.
"Fake… it's all fake…"
"Life, emotions, destiny… it's all a pre-written script! We are all actors!"
"Why… why am I the only one who knows… why…"
He was Elio.
The "Playwright of Destiny" in this Honkai StelleRail web drama world.
At this moment, he was drowning in the "true" lie he had woven with his own hands.
However, Phainon's intrusion broke the dead silence.
The young man suddenly looked up.
It was a face so pale it was bloodless, his eyes bloodshot, his gaze empty and unfocused.
But the moment his eyes met Phainon's.
In the chaotic mist, a dazzling light suddenly shone!
As if amidst endless false data, he had finally found the one, unique "variable" that shouldn't exist.
"You…"
Elio's eyes widened, he stumbled to his feet from the chair, his voice trembling with extreme excitement.
"You finally… came!"
"A 'real' one!"
He staggered towards Phainon, gripping Phainon's arm tightly with both hands, a fervent intensity erupting in his unfocused eyes.
Phainon let him hold on, offering no resistance.
He calmly looked at the half-mad, half-delirious young man before him, confirming a fact in his heart.
A "bug" had appeared in the Simulated Universe.
Elio, who should have been an NPC made of data, had actually developed self-awareness and even seen through the falsity of the world.
The authority of the End was indeed too overpowered.
"Are you really Elio?" Phainon asked tentatively.
This sentence, however, was like a key, suddenly unlocking deeper memories for Elio!
"You forgot?! How could you forget?!"
Elio's emotions instantly spiraled out of control, he stumbled back a few steps and fell to the floor.
He roared, "The three of us! We are the true companions! We all have our own missions!"
"Why would you forget?!"
As if he suddenly remembered something, his gaze became incredibly complex, mixed with understanding and a hint of pity.
"Right… actually, I forgot… at that time, I wasn't even human yet!"
"That's right, that's right! When you made your choice back then, you didn't choose an authority related to space-time!"
"So, you were deceived!"
"But He and I both have it! We both remember!"
Phainon's eyes narrowed, grasping the most crucial words.
The three of us.
He and the other one.
"Who is 'He' you're talking about?"
The fanaticism on Elio's face receded, and he let out a cold laugh.
"He?"
Elio's voice became frantic,
"No, no, no…"
He slowly raised a finger, shaking it in front of Phainon, "Even in a cage, you shouldn't say 'he'."
He leaned close to Phainon's ear, speaking in a very soft voice that only the two of them could hear:
"You should say… 'Them'!"
"Them, is… Lan!"