I was reviewing impossible futures.

  Playing chess against broken versions of myself.

  Midnight glitching, I called it.

  My favorite hobby to avoid going any more insane than necessary.

  And then it happened.

  An envelope appeared out of nowhere.

  ---

  It didn’t fall from the sky.

  It didn’t come from a menu.

  It just... was.

  Suspended one meter above the ground.

  A real paper envelope, sealed with black wax, with my name written on it.

  > Ryouhei

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  (Yes, you. The one still breathing by mistake.)

  No one in Eclipsia should know my name.

  Much less write it.

  I stepped closer.

  Reality around it shimmered like a corrupted file.

  I had to activate my ability just to keep the world stable long enough to open it.

  Inside was a note, written in hurried, trembling ink:

  > “If you can read this, you haven’t been reformatted yet.

  Good.

  This world isn’t what it seems.

  Don’t fight to escape. Fight to overwrite.

  I was an extra too.

  Now I’m something worse.

  See you at the second eclipse.

  —S.”

  ---

  No full name.

  Just that letter.

  S.

  And on the back of the note, a hand-drawn coordinate.

  A place within the Forest of Echoes.

  A place that didn’t exist on any system map.

  ---

  That night, I didn’t sleep.

  Didn’t train either.

  I just stared at the empty envelope, still hovering where I left it, like it hadn’t decided whether to open again or explode into a paradox.

  And I knew my isolation was over.

  Not because I had found someone.

  But because someone had found me.