1 In the twenty years I’ve been bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I’d watched him fight with Isabelle. The dinner he’d spent hours preparing was now a ruin on the floor, swept there by a single, violent motion of his arm. His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, his voice cracking. “Why do you always choose him? You’re divorced, Isabelle, do you get that? I’m your husband now!” Isabelle remained calm, as if she’d been expecting this outburst all along. “So what if we’re divorced? We have a child together, Daniel. I can’t just ignore him.” Her casual words landed like a physical blow, leaving him frozen in place for a long, long time. Long enough for the sky outside to bleed from dusk into complete darkness. This had happened countless times before, and every time, he had gritted his teeth and endured it. I assumed this time would be no different. Until he suddenly asked me, “If I give up on the mission… what’s the price?” … I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My non-corporeal gaze shifted to the data screen hovering beside me. Still, a query from my host, Daniel, required a response. “Voluntarily abandoning the mission results in erasure,” I stated. “Your soul will be reduced to a scatter of data and will cease to exist.” Daniel was silent for a long while, his eyes fixed on the mess of broken ceramic and scattered food on the floor. “File the application for me,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m giving up.” I hesitated, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to protest. “But Isabelle’s affection level is already at 99%. You’re only 1% away from success.” “Even at 99%, she still loves you…” Daniel pulled out a cigarette and lit it, a plume of smoke veiling his expression. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “This last step… I’ve been trying to take it for ten years.” I had no reply. I had been a silent witness to it all. For twenty years, I watched him. He’d started this purely to complete a mission, but somewhere along the way, he had fallen in. Hopelessly, completely in love. I was about to say more when the sound of the front door opening cut me off. Isabelle was back. She waved a hand through the thick smoke, her gaze landing first on the shattered plates, then on Daniel. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I thought you quit ten years ago. Why are you smoking again? You know I hate the smell.” Her tone was sharp. “You made this mess, you can clean it up.” She skirted around the debris and disappeared into the bedroom. When she re-emerged, she was holding a bank card and pulling a small suitcase. Every time she took out that card, it was to withdraw money for her ex-husband and their son. And every time, it would start a fight with Daniel. But this time, Daniel’s face was a blank mask. He didn’t say a word. Isabelle paused at the door, perhaps unsettled by his silence. She glanced back at him. “My son has a fever, 102 degrees. I’m not lying this time,” she said. “Richard is a grown man, but he’s useless when it comes to taking care of a sick kid. He needs me right now. I’m going to stay with them for a while…” Her explanation was stiff, but it was a rare attempt to explain herself at all. “You don’t have to tell me any of this,” Daniel said, his voice eerily calm, as if discussing the weather. “He’s your son. It’s your decision.” Isabelle’s eyes widened slightly. On the data screen, I could see her heart rate spike. She was confused, wondering why he wasn't screaming at her like he always did. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, Isabelle sighed, a sound of resignation. She set down her suitcase and bent to pick up the larger shards of porcelain. “I don’t even know what you’re so angry about,” she muttered. “It was just an anniversary. We can celebrate it anytime. It doesn’t matter to me, so why should it matter so much to you?” She cleaned up the mess while Daniel watched her in silence. Then, he spoke. “Isabelle,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. “You love Richard more than you love me, don’t you?” Her hands stilled for a second. “We’ve been married for years, what’s all this talk about love?” she said dismissively. “If I didn’t love you, why would I have married you?” A soft ping echoed in the interface only I could perceive. The affection level, stuck at 99% for a decade, suddenly dropped to 98%. In that instant, I finally understood why my host was ready to abandon a mission he’d poured twenty years of his life into. Isabelle’s phone rang. A glance at the caller ID was all it took. She rushed toward the door. “I’m leaving. I won’t be back for a few days. You can deal with the rest of this.” The door slammed shut. The moment it closed, a terrible cough wracked Daniel’s body, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the clean floor. He clutched his chest, sliding down the wall until he was crumpled on the ground. I felt a flicker of something akin to concern, but this was the system’s law. When the target’s affection waned, the pursuer was punished. He had failed once before, ten years ago. I remembered him begging me that day. “I’m only 1% away. I can’t give up now. I’ll pay any price, just give me one more chance.” I gave it to him. The price was his life force. Ten years of borrowed time had left him running on empty. Daniel swallowed three painkillers, but his body still trembled uncontrollably from the agony. He curled into a ball in the corner until he finally passed out. I watched his life-force meter plummet, a sense of waste filling my core processes. I used what little energy I had left to stabilize him, just long enough for the paramedics to arrive. At the hospital, Daniel was rushed into surgery. I saw his friend, Dr. Samuel Finch, racing down the hall. He’d come the moment he heard Daniel had been brought in. He rounded a corner and collided with Richard. Isabelle’s ex-husband. Richard’s face lit up when he saw the doctor. “Dr. Finch! I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you for days. It’s great to finally catch you on duty. My son’s had this high fever for a while now, we’re not sure if it’s the flu or something else. If you have a moment…” Sam clearly had no time for him. He brushed past, his voice clipped. “I’m not a pediatrician. Why me, out of all the doctors in this hospital?” Richard’s smile faltered. “Sam, has Daniel been saying things to you?” Isabelle appeared then, hurrying toward them with their son in her arms. I could see the boy was genuinely sick, but compared to what Daniel was going through, it was a minor ailment. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Sam. I knew he was Daniel’s best friend, the only other person besides me who knew the full extent of his condition. “Daniel is in the emergency room right now, fighting for his life,” he snapped. “Do you even know what happened to him, Isabelle? Have you ever cared?” His gaze flicked to the child in her arms, a look of pure contempt on his face. “Is there any room in that heart of yours for anyone besides your ex-husband and his son?” Without waiting for an answer, Sam spun on his heel and strode away. Through the data screen, I watched the color drain from Isabelle’s face. To me, these people were just data points. But I had witnessed every second of the last twenty years. I knew what Daniel had sacrificed. Isabelle stood frozen for a long moment, then instinctively reached for her phone to call Daniel. But her son, fussy and crying, thrashed in her arms and knocked the phone from her hand. Richard bent down and picked it up. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “If you’re really worried, go ahead. The court gave me custody, after all. You can go to him if you want.” The words were weightless, but they were enough to steady Isabelle’s wavering resolve. I watched her affection level fluctuate wildly, dipping and rising, before finally settling back at 99%. “My son needs me,” she said, her voice firm. And she walked away. I sighed, a purely simulated response. For the first time, I felt a pang of indignation for my host. Hours passed before Daniel was wheeled out of the operating room. He was conscious by the time they moved him to a private room, his face gaunt and pale, his cheekbones sharp beneath his skin. Sam stood beside the bed, staring at the chart in his hands with a complicated expression. “Daniel, let me find you some experimental drugs.” Daniel just shook his head. “Don’t bother.” His illness wasn’t natural. I had access to cures far beyond this world’s medicine, but Daniel was ineligible. Nothing could save him except completing the mission. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps paused outside the door. Isabelle pushed the door open. Her face fell when she saw Daniel in the bed. “You’re sick?” She was holding a prescription bag, likely from the pharmacy for her son. “Just the flu,” Daniel lied. “It’s nothing.” Isabelle’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Well, get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” She left as quickly as she had come, as if she’d only stopped by on her way to somewhere more important. There was no concern in her voice, no warmth in her eyes. Sam looked furious, staring at Daniel with a look of frustrated pity. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” “What’s the use?” Was there any use? I remained silent. If telling her the truth would have helped, my host wouldn’t have spent a decade stuck at 99%. Sam eventually sighed and left, leaving Daniel alone in the sterile white room. He asked me, “How much longer until I leave this world?” “The approval process for your withdrawal should take about a week…” I didn’t finish. His body was failing so fast, I wasn’t sure he’d make it that long. After two days in the hospital, Daniel discharged himself and went home. The moment he walked through the door, he saw that Richard was there, too. In just two days, the place had been completely taken over. Toys were scattered across the living room floor. Richard was on the couch, holding their son, watching TV. Isabelle was in the kitchen, cooking. In the ten years they had been married, Isabelle had never once cooked a meal. She had relied on Daniel for everything. He had always taken care of her. And now, here she was, in the kitchen for someone else. My focus returned to Daniel. He showed no emotion, as if he had expected this all along. He just stood there, calmly taking in the scene. “Daniel? Long time no see. Sorry about the mess,” Richard said with a lazy smile, though there was no apology in his eyes. Daniel didn’t respond. Isabelle came out of the kitchen and froze when she saw him. “You’re back. You didn’t tell me you were coming.” A beat. “I didn’t make you anything to eat.” “You two go ahead,” Daniel said quietly, and walked toward the bathroom. He left the door ajar, and the sounds from the living room drifted in. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as a trickle of blood ran from his nose, dripping onto the white porcelain sink. He pressed a hand to his face, but it wouldn't stop. A strange sadness filled my processors. Daniel had endured the pain of the system’s backlash countless times. “Host, would you like a painkiller?” I offered. They wouldn’t do much, but they might dull the edge of the agony. He just shook his head, too weak to speak. The door was suddenly pushed open. Isabelle’s face went white. She grabbed a towel and pressed it frantically to his face. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you bleeding so much?” He pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing. Just stress. It’ll stop.” But the blood had already soaked through half the towel. Isabelle was about to say something else when a loud crash from the living room, followed by a child’s wail, stole all of her attention. She ran out of the bathroom without a second glance. After the bleeding finally stopped, Daniel walked out. His eyes immediately fell on the source of the noise. I followed his gaze. My core temperature seemed to drop. It was the only photograph he had of the two of them, now lying shattered on the floor. Isabelle was kneeling, cooing over her son, fussing over a small cut on his hand from the broken glass. Daniel bent down and picked up the photo from the wreckage of the frame. I remembered when it was taken. Soon after they were married, Isabelle had said she wanted to see the ocean. Daniel had driven them to the coast to watch the sunrise. That was the day her affection for him had hit 99%. Back then, I had thought all his efforts had finally paid off. I never imagined that the final 1% would be a chasm he would spend the next ten years trying to cross. The photo was ruined, slashed by a shard of glass. Daniel stared at it for a long time before dropping it into the trash can. Isabelle noticed the gesture. After she had calmed her son down, she said to Daniel, “It’s just a frame. We can take another picture sometime.” Daniel’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He went into the bedroom and returned with a document from a drawer, its pages yellowed with age. A divorce agreement. He’d had it ready for a long, long time. So long that even I had forgotten about it. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Isabelle’s expression froze. Her eyes fell to the papers in his hand. The only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of a clock. She clearly didn’t take him seriously. She snatched the agreement from his hand and, without even looking at it, tossed it into the same trash can as the photo. Her voice turned cold. “Don’t throw a tantrum over a broken frame. I know you don’t like seeing Richard and my son here. There’s nothing between Richard and me anymore. The child is the only thing connecting us. What are you so worried about?” Every word was a lie. “Once we have a child of our own, you’ll understand,” she continued. “If you don’t want to see them, I’ll take them and leave.” And she did. She left with Richard and their son. I wanted to offer some comfort to Daniel, but I didn’t know what to say. Isabelle didn’t come back. A long time passed. The final approval for his withdrawal from the mission was only two days away. Daniel acted as if nothing was wrong, but the backlash from the failed mission was a constant torment. I watched his face grow paler by the day. “Host,” I said, breaking the silence. “I have submitted a request for a mission parameter change. If you can get Isabelle to have one last meal with you, the mission will be considered a success.” He could go back to his own world. Free of pain, free of this life. He could see his family again. A flicker of light appeared in his tired eyes. I knew he was listening. No one truly wants to die unless they have no other choice. I prompted him to call Isabelle, to set a time for the next day, just before the final approval would come through. The first nine calls went to voicemail. Just as he was about to give up, on the tenth try, she answered. “What is it?” Her voice was impatient. “Tomorrow… it’s my birthday. Do you remember? Come home. Just for one meal.” His voice was hoarse, but this time, she didn’t refuse. A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. On Daniel’s birthday, I ordered a cake for him. I even started planning my next assignment after his mission was complete. But that day, Daniel sat at the dining table starting at five in the evening. He was still sitting there at ten. The food had been heated and reheated until it was inedible. Finally, he gave up, slumping in his chair and staring blankly out the window. “You see?” he said to me, his voice hollow. “She can’t even spare me a single meal.” I said nothing. The data screen showed me exactly where Isabelle was. She had intended to come home at six, but Richard had stopped her. “Do you know what today is? You promised you’d take Toby to the park. He’s finally feeling better, and you’re just going to leave again? I know it’s Daniel’s birthday, but he can wait.” The minutes ticked by. Daniel’s phone lit up in the darkness. It was a voice message from Isabelle. He played it. “I’ll be back later, I promise,” her voice said, tinny through the small speaker. “I promised the kid I’d spend time with him, and I can’t break my word. If you’re hungry, just eat without me. You don’t have to wait.” I started to speak. “Host…” Daniel didn’t say a word. He blew out the single candle on his cake and took a bite. The clock struck midnight. I checked her progress bar. Still 99%. As the first second of the new day ticked over, Daniel stood up. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked to the window of their eighteenth-floor apartment and stepped out into the night.
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