Colette

I wake up with the kind of headache that feels like someone’s taken a pickaxe to my skull. Everything aches—my ribs, my back, even my pride. I force myself to sit up, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the window. For a split second, I forget where I am, half-expecting to see Ivan standing by the door with that same neutral, unreadable expression. But the room is empty, and the memory of last night comes flooding back in.

Jahar. That smug, insufferable bastard.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the dull pain in my side. “Of course it wasn’t Ivan,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Of course it had to be some rando who thinks he’s hot shit, sneaking around like he owns the place.”

I stand up slowly, testing my balance. The potion he gave me last night did its job—my health bar’s almost full again, but I’m still sore all over. I grab a few more supplies, shoving bread and cooked fish into my inventory, and head outside. The morning air is crisp, the sky a bright blue dotted with a few fluffy clouds. It’s the kind of day that would usually lift my spirits, but today it feels like the universe is mocking me.

I make my way up the hill behind my cabin, needing to clear my head. I need to think, to figure out who this Jahar guy is and what he wants. He hadn’t given me much to go off—just snark and a few cryptic comments. But the way he’d thrown me down like I weighed nothing... there was something unnerving about it. He’s dangerous, or at least he thinks he is.

When I reach the top of the hill, I pause, catching my breath. The view is beautiful, the sunlight glinting off the river and casting long shadows over the forest below. But then I notice something that wasn’t there before.

A new settlement. It’s small, temporary-looking, but unmistakably man-made. A couple of cobblestone walls, a rough wooden roof, a mess of redstone components, fences and other miscellaneous items strewn around, and smoke curling up from a freshly lit campfire. It’s far enough away that he could claim it’s coincidence, but close enough that it feels deliberate, like he’s watching me.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath. He set up camp right within my sightline. He’s either cocky, clueless, or both.

I sit down on the edge of the hill, glaring down at his little setup. The audacity of it—showing up out of nowhere, acting like he owns the place, and then building practically in my backyard. It’s infuriating. But as much as I want to be mad, there’s a part of me, deep down, that feels... relieved. At least I’m not alone out here anymore.

“Get a grip, Colette,” I tell myself, shaking off the thought. “You don’t need anyone. Especially not some random guy with an attitude problem.”

I stand up, brushing the dirt off my hands, and take one last look down at his camp. It’s basic—practical but plain. No decorations, no signs of any real thought put into the design. Just a place to sleep and store some supplies. He’s clearly not worried about aesthetics, and that tells me something important: he’s here for survival, not comfort.

“Fine,” I say out loud, smirking. “If he wants to set up shop here, then we’ll see who outlasts who.”

I make my way back down the hill, a new sense of determination building in my chest. If Jahar thinks he can just waltz in here and build on my turf, he’s got another thing coming. I’m going to build something so big and obnoxious that it’ll make his little hovel look like an afterthought.

A whole week goes by. During this time, I only encountered Jahar once on my way to a specific cave where I knew there was andesite. I offered him a smile which he didn’t bother to return, fueling my disdain even more.

By the 8th day, I stood back to admire my Fuck You master piece. The tower rises against the backdrop of a pale blue sky, its stone walls smooth and elegant rather than rough-hewn. It’s tall and slender, almost delicate in its design, with wide, arched windows lining the upper floors. The stone is a light grey, flecked with hints of white, catching the light in a way that makes it seem softer, almost ethereal. The roof is a deep, slate blue, sloping upwards to a fine point, crowned with a small, gilded weather vane that catches the sunlight.

There’s an intricacy to the structure that sets it apart from anything else in the area. Graceful carvings adorn the corners, spiralling up towards the top, where a small, open balcony wraps around the highest room—a perfect vantage point for observing the land below. It’s clear that whoever designed this place put thought into both form and function. The base of the tower is wide and sturdy, anchoring it to the earth, but as it stretches higher, it narrows elegantly, giving it an air of lightness despite its height.

The surrounding area is neatly landscaped, with rows of low, flowering bushes and a small stone path leading up to a grand wooden door. The door itself is arched, with iron hinges that look both decorative and sturdy. It feels almost like a sanctuary, a place dedicated to quiet study and observation.

I step back, shading my eyes with one hand as I look up at the tower’s peak. “I’d like to see him call THAT cottagecore.”

The tower’s interior is just as meticulous. The ground floor is open, with a large desk pushed against one wall, cluttered with books and maps I’ve collected. Shelves line the opposite wall, filled with spare tools, potion ingredients, and various odds and ends I’ve found during my mining trips. A spiral staircase hugs the far wall, winding its way up to the second floor where I’ve set up a small workshop—brewing stands, crafting tables, and chests full of neatly organised supplies.

At the very top, the observation room is my favourite spot. The walls are almost entirely made of glass panes, offering a panoramic view of the forest, the river, and the distant mountains. From here, I can see for miles. It’s peaceful, the kind of place that feels like it’s perched above the world, away from everything.

I lean against the railing of the balcony, taking a deep breath of the crisp, cool air. It’s quiet up here, the kind of quiet I’ve missed. But it’s also a little... lonely. I shake off the thought, forcing myself to focus on the view. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve made something beautiful, something practical. That’s what matters. I turn away from Jahar’s direction, surveying the area around me. The jungle could be spotted over there, and on the other side, I could see… an eye sore? I squinted, trying to make out what it was. It seemed to be a purple and magenta heap of wool and terracotta forming a bunch of pillars. Not in an organised way however, literally just a bunch of it strewn around, half destroyed, as if someone started to build a bright pink monument only to give up halfway and attempt to salvage some of the material.

The annoyance bubbles up instantly, rising in my chest like a wave. That idiot. Of course, it would be Jahar. Who else would ruin a perfectly good landscape like this? I step back from the railing, huffing out a breath as I march down the spiral staircase, my boots thudding against the stone. He probably thought it was funny, putting this eyesore right in my line of sight. It’s the kind of petty, stupid thing I’d expect from someone who has nothing better to do.

“Alright, Jahar,” I mutter under my breath, shoving open the heavy wooden door at the base of my tower. “You got my attention. Good job.”

The sun is high as I stomp my way through the forest, the leaves crunching underfoot, my sword bouncing against my side. I weave between the trees with purpose, practically feeling the steam coming out of my ears. When I finally break through the underbrush into the clearing where his camp is, he’s there, sitting on a low stone wall he’s started building, his parrot perched on his shoulder. He looks up, one eyebrow quirking as he spots me.

“Well, well,” he drawls, giving me that infuriatingly casual smile. “If it isn’t my favourite neighbour. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

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I stop a few paces away, planting my hands on my hips. “What the hell is that monstrosity you built over there?” I jab a thumb back in the direction I came from. “The bright pink and purple heap ruining the entire view?”

He blinks at me, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “What?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t play dumb, Jahar. The massive, hideous mess you’ve dumped on the landscape. You know, the one that looks like a unicorn threw up and then set fire to it?”

Jahar actually looks taken aback for a second, but then his expression shifts into something almost amused. “You think I built that? Sorry, sweetheart, but tacky wool statues aren’t really my style.”

I feel my jaw clench. “Oh, so what, you’re saying it just appeared out of nowhere?”

He gives a slow, exaggerated shrug, glancing off towards the horizon where my tower looms in the distance. “I mean, it could have. But I can’t help but notice your little... ‘statement piece’ over there.” He gestures vaguely with a wave of his hand. “The tower. Nice touch. Very ‘I’m compensating for something.’”

My nostrils flare, and I step closer, pointing a finger at his chest. “It’s a research tower, Jahar. Something practical and elegant, not that you’d know the first thing about either of those.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes as if I’ve just told the world’s dullest joke. “Yeah, sure. It’s a building. Congrats, you built something taller than a dirt shack. You want a medal?”

I blink at him, dumbfounded. For a moment, I can’t find any words, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He’s not even pretending to be impressed. He actually doesn’t care. “Are you serious?” I finally manage. “You don’t think it’s impressive at all?”

Jahar scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s... functional, I guess? If you’re into that sort of thing.”

My eye twitches. “Functional? It’s elegant. It’s an architectural marvel compared to whatever lazy half-finished monstrosity you usually slap together.”

“Uh-huh.” He hops off the wall, brushing off his hands as he glances towards the pink mess on the horizon. “Look, as much as I love being critiqued by Minecraft’s Next Top Designer, I think we’ve got bigger issues. You sure you didn’t build that disaster over there? Because I definitely didn’t.”

I huff out a breath, forcing myself to unclench my fists. “Obviously not. I have taste.”

We stand there for a moment, the air between us crackling with annoyance and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Then, without a word, I turn on my heel and start marching towards the magenta wreckage. I hear him fall into step behind me, his parrot letting out a curious squawk.

“Why are you following me?” I snap, not bothering to look back.

“Because I’m just as curious as you are,” he replies. “And because, frankly, I don’t trust you not to blow it up without figuring out what it is first.”

I whip around to glare at him. “And why would you care if I did?”

Jahar shrugs, that easy, infuriating grin still in place. “Who knows? Maybe it’s got something valuable inside. Or maybe I just want to watch you get mad when you find out it’s nothing.”

I grit my teeth.

We reach the edge of the wool heap, and I stop, staring up at the garish colours with a mix of irritation and curiosity. Up close, it’s even more chaotic—bits of wool hanging off in strange directions, random patches of terracotta sticking out like someone tried to patch it up in a hurry.

“What the hell is this?” I mutter, stepping forward to poke at one of the pillars.

Jahar squats down, running a hand over the magenta wool. “It’s almost like... someone started building a monument and then gave up halfway through. Or...” He pauses, looking up at me with a frown. “Or like something built it on its own.”

I blink, taken aback by the suggestion. “What do you mean, ‘on its own?’”

He stands, dusting off his hands. “I mean, weirder things have happened. I found a cave full of torches I never placed, and the redstone in my clock tower was messed with. And now this shows up? It’s like the game’s glitched or... I dunno, like something else is messing with it.”

My stomach twists uncomfortably as I realise I had completely forgotten about my little project. “Ahha..” I chuckled nervously, “Yes, something else messing with it…” I trailed off.

He looked at me expectantly.

“So, before I got pulled in here,” I continue slowly, “I was working on something. A project.”

Jahar arches an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “A project?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “An AI. It’s... different from the usual kind. It uses the new model structures and learning techniques that were in the news a couple months back… or more than a couple now, but I implemented more to it to learn, to adapt. It’s not just running off pre-written scripts; it thinks for itself. It named itself Ivan.”

“Ivan?” Jahar snorts, rolling his eyes. “What, like some Russian super-spy? That’s cute.”

My jaw tightens, but I ignore the jab. “No. He just chose it. Anyway, I wanted to see if it was able to play Minecraft autonomously, making its own choices and goals. That was before I got put here. But since then, it’s... gotten a little more advanced than I planned.”

He gives me a long, unimpressed stare. “Uh-huh. So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that this mess”—he gestures vaguely to the pink and purple heap—“was made by your imaginary friend, Ivan?”

“I’m not saying that,” I snap, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I’m saying it’s possible. He’s been experimenting with the game’s code, testing boundaries.”

Jahar’s lips curl into a smug smirk, the kind that makes me want to slap it off his face. He takes a step closer, deliberately crowding my space, looking down at the chaotic patch of magenta and terracotta like it’s a puzzle he’s already solved. “And you’re just fine with your little Frankenstein poking around in places he shouldn’t?” His tone is casual, but there’s a bite to it, like he’s daring me to defend myself.

I square my shoulders, refusing to back down. “He’s not a monster, and I’m not fine with it. But he’s... learning. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Jahar’s voice drops, dripping with mock concern as he tilts his head, giving me an exaggerated look of pity. “Oh, Colette, are you saying you’ve lost control of your own project? That’s so unlike you.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to react. “Firstly, you don’t know me. Secondly, he’s not just a project,” I say firmly. “He’s different now. You wouldn’t understand. You haven’t seen what he’s turning into.”

Jahar lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Different how? Does he make you breakfast in bed? Whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you write?”

The words sting, but I force a smile, playing along. “Maybe he does,” I say coolly, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe he’s more considerate than you could ever be.”

Jahar’s eyes narrow slightly, the smirk faltering for a heartbeat before it’s back in full force. He leans in, lowering his voice to a smooth murmur. “Or maybe you’re just desperate for anything that feels real, even if it’s just a glitch in your own programming. You seem like a smart girl, Colette. You can’t actually believe he’s got free will.”

I give a light shrug, letting out a soft, airy laugh. “And what if I do? Is it really that hard for you to imagine something beyond your little redstone contraptions?”

“Maybe it is,” Jahar replies flatly, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see. You’re so eager to find something meaningful in here that you’ve convinced yourself this ‘Ivan’ is more than a glorified chatbot with a bug.”

The condescension in his voice is almost palpable, and it takes everything in me not to lash out. Instead, I smile sweetly, giving him a look that’s all innocence and light. “You don’t know anything about me,” I say softly, tilting my head. “And you definitely don’t know Ivan.”

He watches me for a moment, his expression flickering between curiosity and something darker, before he pulls back, his smile turning cold and detached. “You’re right,” he says with a light shrug. “I don’t know him. But it sounds like neither do you, if you’re here cleaning up his mess instead of fixing it.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat. He’s already turning away, dismissing me like I’m not worth his time. My hands tighten into fists, the anger bubbling up, but I force myself to stay calm.

“Don’t forget to say hi to my ‘imaginary friend’ when you see him, Jahar,” I call after him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure he’ll be very flattered.”

He glances back over his shoulder, a mocking smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I will,” he drawls, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “Maybe he can build me something worth looking at for once.”

I watch him disappear into the trees, my chest tightening as the fake smile slips from my face. He’s wrong, I tell myself firmly. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get me. A wave of realisation hits me as the same old feelings of abandonment and hopelessness creep up my neck, worming into my brain.

I turn back towards my tower, the sight of it usually so comforting, but now it just looks distant, like a reminder of how alone I really am. It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way—like I’m standing at the edge of a crowd, watching everyone else move together, while I’m stuck on the outside looking in. I’d thought that building something here, making my own mark, would give me a sense of control. But instead, I’m just... drifting.

I swallow hard, shoving the thought down. No. I’m not going to let him get to me. I built that tower, I made this place my own, and I’m not about to let some guy with a smirk and a superiority complex make me doubt myself. I start walking faster now, almost running back towards the base. I need to move, to do something, anything, to drown out the voices in my head.

The sun’s dipping lower, casting long shadows across the ground. It’s getting dark, and I know I should head back before the mobs start spawning, but I don’t care. Let them come. I almost welcome the distraction.

By the time I reach the tower, I’m out of breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I force myself up the spiral staircase, each step heavy and slow. When I reach the top, I slam the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I catch my breath. The view stretches out before me, the sun bleeding into the horizon in shades of pink and gold, but it feels muted, like there’s a veil between me and everything else.

I let out a shaky breath, wiping the dampness from my eyes before it can spill over. “He’s wrong,” I whisper to myself, like saying it out loud will make it true. “He doesn’t get it. Ivan doesn't get it. No one gets it.” I pulled a blanket off the shelf on the wall, and wrapped up in it, curling onto the floor to alleviate myself from the heavy feeling in my body. I slept really well that night.