Chapter 2: When the System Snaps Back

Tyler’s run away from home again.

The neighbors barely even blink anymore when they see me pacing the sidewalk after sundown, calling his name, phone in hand. He’s been gone since morning—again. Third time this month, and my heart’s got blisters from worry.

I searched all afternoon with no luck, and finally, desperate, I called up the system—which was supposed to be on break—

Even the digital voice sounded cranky, like I’d interrupted its Netflix binge. The cursor blinked on my screen, and the air in my room felt thick with judgment.

Anyone forced into overtime would be in a bad mood. The system was no exception. I could practically hear it rolling its eyes through the phone speaker, like we were both way over this.

The second it popped up, it went off on me with rapid-fire snark.

“Seriously, Natalie, you’re the worst host I’ve ever had.”

“How long’s it been? Tyler’s negativity is still off the charts…”

“Congrats, Natalie, you might set a new record for Most Hated Caretaker. Seriously, what’s your secret?”

I just stared at the ground. My sneakers scuffed the cracked sidewalk. The sunset painted the mailbox gold, but I felt smaller than ever.

The system was right.

I really am useless.

It’s been three whole years.

Three years of missed birthdays, silent car rides, and one-sided conversations. Three years of trying to crack a safe that was welded shut.

The word Tyler says to me the most is ‘hate.’

He hates seeing me. Hates talking to me. Hates when I get close to him.

Hate, hate…

That word echoes in my head, a stubborn weed I can’t pull up. Even when he’s not around, I hear it—like a mosquito in my ear.

Maybe seeing how beat down I looked, the system softened a little. Its voice came through gentler, almost like it wanted to pat my shoulder. I almost laughed—almost.

It sent an address to my phone, tone smoothing out just a bit.

“Hey.”

“He’s here.”

“Don’t get too anxious. You won’t lose him.”

“Let me check his current emotional value—”

The system paused. My heart did, too. I watched the spinning icon, breath caught between hope and dread.

After a moment, it suddenly asked, “What’s going on?”

“Why did Tyler’s heartbeat just spike, and his negativity drop so fast?”

“Isn’t that a sign he’s moved by something?”