Threshold

[0:00] – Awake

Lin Xun jolted upright, gasping.

The sheets beneath him were soaked. The room was dark, but it wasn't his dark.

The shadows were too clean. Too uniform.

No dust in the corners. No hum of the refrigerator.

It smelled faintly like alcohol wipes and old electricity.

He reached for his phone.

It wasn't there.

Instead, a card sat on the bedside table.

Plain white. Embossed with a single phrase:

"Look inward."

The same message the Ledger had pushed to him after the elevator.

He stared at it for several seconds, unsure if he was still dreaming.

Or if he'd ever woken up.

⸻

[0:47] – The Hall

The hallway outside his room was endless.

No doors. No exit signs. Just fluorescent light washing over white walls and grey floor tiles. Clinical.

He began walking.

After seventeen paces, he passed a mirror on the right wall.

But the man in the reflection wasn't moving.

Not quite.

The hands stayed at his sides. The eyes blinked out of sync.

Lin stared.

The reflection smirked.

He stepped backward.

The man in the glass did not.

⸻

[1:13] – The Interview

A desk.

A microphone.

A glass of water.

And the woman.

She looked to be in her mid-thirties, dark bobbed hair, a sterile smile. She reminded Lin of a host on state-run media. Too practiced to trust.

"You've been here before," she said.

"I don't remember," Lin replied.

"You did well last time. High retention. Clear ethical response curves. They kept your profile on file."

He blinked. "What is this?"

"A checkpoint."

"A test?"

"A recalibration."

Her tone was calm, but hollow. Like it had been said a hundred times before to a hundred other test subjects.

"Are you part of the Ledger?" he asked.

The woman tilted her head, almost amused.

"Aren't we all?"

⸻

[1:41] – Subject #04

Files scattered across the table.

He didn't recognize the names.

But the faces—he'd seen them. On task screens. Victims. Perpetrators. Whistleblowers.

Some were dead. Some were "pending."

He picked up one sheet.

Subject 04: YANG MIN.

Clearance: Observer tier.

Result: Emotional Disassociation. Recycled.

Another:

Subject 07: TANG YUYAN.

Clearance: Initiator tier.

Result: Emotional Deviation. Retired (unresolved).

Then one marked with a blank name.

Subject 11: ———

Clearance: Control Variable.

Status: Active.

Note: "Cracks already existed. External stimulus optional."

His own file.

He dropped the page.

⸻

[2:09] – The Door

A red light blinked above a steel door.

No handle.

The woman gestured toward it.

"You'll want to go through that now."

"Why?"

"Because that's where you've already been."

He didn't move.

"You don't trust me," she said.

"Should I?"

The smile cracked.

"I never said this was about trust."

The light turned green.

The door opened.

Inside: a childhood bedroom.

His.

Exactly as it had been when he was eight.

Posters. Scuffed floor. A broken drawer.

And in the corner—

A boy.

Sitting. Reading a book.

Lin stepped inside.

The boy looked up.

Same face. Younger eyes.

"You stopped coming here," the boy said.

⸻

[2:21] – Memory Artifact

He couldn't speak.

The boy stood and walked over.

"Do you remember what you promised me?"

Lin shook his head.

"That you'd never become like him."

Lin stiffened.

The boy pointed to a shadow behind the bedroom curtain.

A shape. Tall. Male.

Watching.

Not moving.

Lin reached for the curtain—

And woke up screaming.

⸻

[3:00] – Awake (Again?)

Same bed. Same card.

This time, a second one was there.

Black.

A message in thin red text:

"Threshold breached. Stability at risk."

Next Task: Choose one to forget.

[Tap to continue.]

A list appeared beneath it:

•YANG MIN

•TANG YUYAN

•SELF

There was no back button.

He stared at the screen, jaw locked, heartbeat loud in his ears.

Forget?

He tapped "TANG YUYAN."

The screen dissolved.

But something inside him screamed.

⸻

[3:17] – Reality Drift

Later—if later even meant anything—Lin sat at his own desk, watching old footage on loop.

He didn't remember finding the footage.

Didn't remember uploading it.

It showed him, standing outside the sanatorium from his dream. Talking to a man in a coat.

Frame by frame, he scanned the footage.

At the 23rd second, the man turned his head.

It was him.

Older. Paler. Wearing a different coat.

He scrubbed back. Zoomed in.

Same scar above the eyebrow.

Same microexpression tick.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he whispered.

⸻

[3:38] – Call from Di Zi

His phone rang.

Di Zi's voice was a low hiss on the line.

"You're bleeding through."

"What?"

"Tasks are not being properly compartmentalized. It's merging memory layers. They're watching how much stress you can hold before collapse."

"How do you know this?"

"I was Subject 08."

Click.

The line went dead.

⸻

[4:00] – Threshold (Complete)

He returned to the card.

The white one.

This time, new writing had appeared:

"You looked inward. You found a crack.

Now ask: Who is the architect?"

He read it again.

And again.

Until the room started to melt into noise.