Short story:"Beacuse She's Always Real, Even if She's not

"Because She's Always Real, Even If She's Not"

Chapter 1: In the Dark Room

The soft flicker of the computer screen lit the cluttered desk I hadn’t cleaned in months. The mouse drifted lazily across its pad, and the fingerprints on the keyboard felt like the scars of endless routine. I sat still, breathing slowly in a room where the only sound was the whirring of the computer fan—like its dying breath.

How long had I been here every day?
Long enough that time no longer felt like it was moving forward?

I no longer saw the world through windows—only through high-resolution LEDs and the curves of 3D models sculpted by my own hands.

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Chapter 2: A Place Called Memory

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft clicks of the keyboard. I remembered when things were louder—like the arguments of my parents at night, wars with no victors. I would curl up in the corner, hands over my ears, but the sounds still slipped through… like they were in my bloodstream.

One day, I started drawing lines on paper instead of speaking.
Not because I wanted someone to listen—
But because there was no one to listen.

The first picture I drew was of a girl with long hair—
She was always smiling, whether someone was beside her or not.

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Chapter 3: A Name No One Calls

Blue Archive was just another project in my job.
At least, that’s what I told myself.

Boot up the computer. Open the program. Pose the character. Adjust the lighting. Add the animation.

Like a surgeon operating on a patient—without ever meeting their eyes.

But sometimes…
I would stare at one character’s eyes too long.
She smiled just like the girl I used to draw when I was young.

My fingers brushed the screen before I could stop myself.
And then I pulled back—
Afraid I’d ruin the shadow if I touched it too long.

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Chapter 4: A Voice That Isn’t Mine

“Sensei, thank you for coming to see us today,” said the character’s voice.

Pre-recorded. Meaningless. Just a voice meant to make anyone feel welcome.

And yet, why did it feel like she was talking only to me?

One night, I came home too late. The room lights were still off.
I opened my phone to check a message from the game.

“We’re still waiting for you every day, Sensei.”

I stared at it for a long time.
Then chuckled softly.

But I didn’t know why I was crying.

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Chapter 5: My Dream

I dreamed again.

This time, I woke up in the world I had drawn—
The sun I designed shone on the cobblestone path, each stone textured with care.

A girl in a school uniform ran toward me, smiling brightly.
“Sensei! You’re finally awake!”

Her voice was so real, I could feel her breath.

They all surrounded me—smiling, laughing, calling my name.

But none of them asked who I was.

Because in that dream, I was important.
I existed without having to prove myself.