The days that followed blurred together. Nurses came and went, asking questions, shining lights in my eyes, testing reflexes. I answered like I was supposed to, but inside, the truth gnawed at me.
Arden’s sharp stare. Davian’s smirk. Mikael’s soft silence. Zi’s laughter.
They weren’t fading. If anything, they were sharper now, etched into me like scars.
Every night, when I closed my eyes, I could still hear them.
“Elowyn, come back…”60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFhWp2c8Aay
“You aren’t safe there.”60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK4Z3ObycrR
“We’re waiting for you.”
I jolted awake more than once, my heart hammering, certain that if I reached out, I would brush against them. But all I felt was the cold air of the hospital, empty and unyielding.
My parents visited sometimes. They tried to make small talk, asked the same questions I’d answered dozens of times, their faces tight with worry.60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9AmcjSc3ae
“Sweetheart, are you resting enough?”60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGM8seXVElN
“I’m fine,” I said, though I wasn’t. I wanted to tell them about the ward, about the shadows, about the voices—but the words died in my throat.
One afternoon, I wandered down a corridor I hadn’t noticed before. It was deserted. The usual antiseptic smell had a sharper, metallic edge. My feet moved without thinking, carrying me past locked doors and faded warning signs.
At the end of the hall, I found a small ward I’d never seen before. Half the lights were off, machines humming softly. Four beds. Monitors blinking steadily.
I froze. Four people lay there, their faces barely visible in the dim light.
Something felt… wrong.
I didn’t recognize them—not fully. Yet there was something in the way they lay so still, the way the monitors tethered them, that tugged at my chest. A faint familiarity I couldn’t explain.
A nurse appeared suddenly at the corner, sharp and alert.60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG9nRgsHDC3
“Hey! This area is restricted!” she snapped. My heart lurched. I stumbled back, nearly tripping over myself.
Outside the ward, my reflection trembled in the window. For a moment, I thought I saw their shadows merge with mine—then nothing. Just my own pale face staring back at me.
When I returned to my room, my parents hovered near the door, whispering.60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR741V2I2su
“You’re scaring yourself,” my mother said softly. “Please, rest.”60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsX7ufUjrh4
I nodded, forcing a smile.
But the room felt too small, too sterile. The walls pressed in on me, the steady beeping of the monitor a cruel reminder that I was awake, but not free.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the ward—the four beds, the almost-familiar shapes lying so still. The memory clung to me like static. My thoughts collapsed into to the game—Delulu World. The corrupted files. Memories I couldn’t trust. And the one person who might explain it all: the Developer.
When I was finally allowed access to a computer, I dove in. Hours blurred together as I scoured forums, archives, ROM dumps. Dead links. Glitching screenshots. Endless fragments that led nowhere. But I kept going.
Then, buried in a thread no one had touched in years, I found it:
Stop blaming the dev. You don’t know what he risked to protect her.
Her.60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdmOroQjKnr
Me.
My hands shook. With a shaky breath, I typed:
Please… are you the Developer? I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.
ns216.73.216.122da2
and then Add to home screen.