Colette

The morning sun filters through the glass panes of my tower, casting a golden glow on the cluttered desk where I’ve spent the last few hours scribbling notes. I’ve been up since dawn, unable to shake the conversation with Jahar. His words linger in my mind, like an itch I can’t scratch.

“Maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see. Maybe you’re so desperate for something real in here…”

I scowl, slamming my notebook shut. He’s wrong. He doesn’t understand. This isn’t just some fantasy I’ve concocted to cope with being stuck here. Ivan is real. I can’t explain it yet, but I can feel it—there’s something deeper at play. I pull myself up from the chair, determination flaring hot and sharp in my chest. If Jahar wants to be a condescending asshole about it, fine. I don’t need him. I need answers, and I’m going to get them.

I make my way down the spiral staircase, my footsteps echoing in the quiet of the tower. The ground floor feels empty, devoid of Ivan’s usual presence. It’s unsettling how quickly I’d gotten used to him being here, hovering like a silent shadow. I push the thought away as I step outside, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

I head towards the riverbank where I last saw Ivan fishing, trying to gather my thoughts. I need a plan—a way to track him down, to understand what he’s doing. If he’s experimenting with the game’s code, there must be traces of it somewhere. I kneel down by the water’s edge, running my fingers over the smooth stones, searching for any signs of disruption.

“I’ll find you,” I whisper to myself, a promise more to me than to him. I dig my hand into the dirt, scooping up a handful of the riverbed. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation, grounding myself. Control. I can control this.

When I look up, I notice a faint trail of waterlogged footprints leading away from the river, disappearing into the dense forest beyond. My heart skips a beat. It’s a small lead, but it’s something.

Realistically, if there’s any hope of me escaping this world, it will be using Ivan’s resources. It is imperative that I find him and get him under my control. Maybe if there was a way to lure him back with something impressive. Like a command block. Fuck, a command block could teleport everything directly to me, but that’s as far as my redstone knowledge goes. Luckily, for me, I had a redstone expert to hand…

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Jafar

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I reach into my bag, pulling out my notebook. The pages are dog-eared and smudged with dirt, filled with diagrams, notes, and theories I’ve been scribbling down. I flip it open to a blank page, tapping the pen against the paper. That purple structure Colette found... what the hell was that?

I sketch a rough diagram, replaying the scene in my mind, then pause, tapping the end of my pen against my lips. Colette thinks it’s Ivan’s doing—her little AI experiment gone rogue. The way she talks about him, you’d think he was a real person, not just a bunch of code she cobbled together. I smirk, imagining her face if I called him her “Frankenstein’s monster” again. She’s so damn protective of him, like he’s a child she’s trying to defend from the world. It’s almost cute.

I lean back, propping my feet up on a crate, and stare at the ceiling. The fire pit in the middle of the room flickers, casting shadows that dance across the rough-hewn planks above. There’s a comfortable stillness here—a quiet I’ve never had back in the real world. No notifications buzzing, no deadlines looming, no people demanding my time. Just me, the crackle of the fire, and the endless possibilities stretching out in every direction.

So why do I still feel restless?

I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something bigger at play here. It’s not just about figuring out how we got trapped. It’s about who is in control. And if Colette’s right—if this AI really is evolving, altering the game in ways I can’t predict—then it’s not just a puzzle anymore. It’s a power play. And I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

I flip back a few pages in the notebook, scanning over my old notes. There’s a sketch of the clock tower I built, its redstone circuits neatly mapped out. I remember the way the mechanisms felt wrong, like someone had gone in and twisted the wires when I wasn’t looking. It’s the same feeling I got today, standing in that clearing with Colette. Like the world’s logic is shifting beneath my feet, the rules bending just enough to make me question what’s real.

I shut the notebook with a snap, tossing it onto the pile of supplies next to me. Let her chase her ghost, I think, smirking to myself. I’ve got bigger questions to answer.

But even as I try to dismiss it, I can’t get the image of her out of my head. The way she looked, standing there, so convinced of her own truth. There was something raw in her eyes—a desperation she’s too proud to admit. It’s like she’s clutching at this idea of Ivan because it’s the only thing keeping her afloat. I wonder if she realises how transparent she is, or if she’s just that good at lying to herself.

I push myself up from the crate, pacing the length of the hut. It’s small—barely enough room to move around—but I don’t need much. Just a place to think, to get my head straight. I glance out the window again, towards where I know her tower stands, just out of sight behind the trees. I imagine her up there now, poring over her notes, chewing on her lip like she always does when she’s deep in thought.

Why do I care? The question comes unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. I force myself to turn away, grabbing a potion from the chest and taking a swig. The bitter taste of healing herbs fills my mouth, grounding me. It’s not about her. It’s about the game. It’s about figuring out what the hell is going on and why everything feels like it’s one step away from falling apart.

But as I lean against the wall, the glass bottle dangling from my fingers, I can’t help but wonder. What if she’s right?