A deafening silence filled the space.
Icarus stood in a vast, blank void. There was no sky, no ground—just endless white stretching into infinity.
It was disorienting.
He felt weightless yet fully aware of his body, his breaths steady but sharp with tension. His silver hair, usually bound neatly, hovered around him in strands of liquid silk, untouched by gravity. His fingers twitched, curling instinctively as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
He had expected to be thrown straight into the capsule's programming, immersed in whatever fabricated world the system would create.
But instead…
Nothing.
"System."
A light chime echoed in response, and a familiar voice answered.
"Ah. You're awake. That's good."
Icarus narrowed his eyes. "Where am I?"
"Processing space. You're in a temporary stabilization zone while I finalize your initialization."
Icarus exhaled slowly, keeping his irritation in check. "Why is it taking so long?"
The voice hesitated.
"Ah. That's where things get a little… tricky."
A moment later, a figure materialized before him—a humanoid form made entirely of glowing golden lines, shifting and flickering like data in motion. Its face was blank, but its posture radiated an unsettling amount of curiosity. Even then, there were cracks as if the system was trying hard to form a physical form.
"Doctor Wynn, we have a bit of a problem."
Icarus crossed his arms. "Explain."
"There's been an unexpected glitch."
Icarus let out a slow breath. "I can see that."
The system continued, its tone disturbingly calm even though golden threads continued to glitch.
"This is the first time the quantum transfer pod has been activated for a full-scale soul immersion. Theoretically, everything should have worked smoothly, but…"
It gestured vaguely to their surroundings.
"The world you were meant to enter didn't sync properly with the prince's soul. The instability disrupted the synchronization. I still don't have the full idea of what kind of discrepancies have occured, but your role as a psychologist was changed to that of a villain, and you can't OOC upto 75% until 75% of the storyline has finished."
Icarus stiffened. "A villain?"
The system tilted its head, processing. "Yes. Normally, the system connects your consciousness to a single simulation where you stabilize the patient's soul by attaining the role of his psychologist. But you can only attain that role once you finish 75% of the storyline as a villain, fulfilling all of the villainous duties while making sure the patient is still alive. I apologize, but this has been caused because of the anomaly I perceived in your consciousness."
Icarus's fingers twitched slightly, the only sign of his inner thoughts racing.
"The anomaly?"
The system was silent for a beat. Then, its golden lines flickered erratically before stabilizing again.
"You are different, Doctor Wynn."
Icarus's gaze darkened as he listened.
"Unlike other test subjects, your cognitive patterns are layered. Fragmented, in a way that doesn't match your current state of being. It's almost as if your existence has been rewritten multiple times, yet the source of these discrepancies is… inaccessible. Even to me."
A cold weight settled in Icarus's chest.
The past.
Even here, even now, it haunted him—an unknown variable lurking just beneath the surface.
Every time his past was mentioned, his already indifferent demeanor became even colder.
His hatred for Kaelen… It stemmed solely from that day.
The day the prince—no, the future emperor—had ruthlessly ordered the execution of his parents.
Icarus had been a child, barely able to understand the political forces at play, but he had understood one thing very clearly—his parents had been innocent.
Kaelen knew it, too.
And yet, he had watched.
Icarus could still remember that moment, carved into his mind like a wound that never healed. The sight of his parents kneeling before the imperial guards, their expressions calm even as the swords were drawn. His mother's last glance at him, filled not with fear, but with silent understanding.
The prince had watched it all unfold, standing atop the balcony with that same unreadable expression, eyes cold as if he were witnessing nothing more than a necessary sacrifice.
Icarus hated him for it.
That hatred had consumed him for years, shaping his entire existence. He had done everything to avoid Kaelen, severing all ties to the royal family, drowning himself in scientific research, ensuring that he would never be within the same space as the man who had taken everything from him.
And now…
He was here. Forced to save that very man.
But this—this was different.
The system said his existence was rewritten multiple times. That the anomalies in his cognitive patterns caused the glitch.
His existence was rewritten?
What the hell does that even mean?
Icarus didn't react outwardly, but deep inside, something shifted. He despised unpredictability, and this… this was the worst kind of surprise.
The system watched him, its flickering form distorting.
"Aren't you even a little curious?" it asked. "This anomaly in your existence—could it be linked to your hatred toward the prince?"
Icarus's expression darkened instantly at the mention of Kaelen.
Again, he didn't want to have anything to do with that man. Never in this lifetime, even if it was related to his anomalies. He just needed to save him. That was all there was to it.
The system spoke again, seeing his silence.
"I can make an in-depth search on this anomaly before we continue."
Icarus remained quiet, but the traces of coldness on his face became even sharper. The suffocating silence that followed was enough for the system to understand.
"I see."
The AI's tone shifted, no longer playful but almost thoughtful.
"You're blocking the memory."
Blocking the memory?
Even if he was, what did it matter? He didn't need to remember everything. It wouldn't change his goals.
Sure, he had 5% curiosity, but that was it.
"If you're not curious, I won't ask you about the anomaly, but I have finished searching about the discrepancies, and your situation is quite tricky." The system chuckled. "Doctor Wynn… do you know what you're about to face?"
Icarus frowned, feeling a growing sense of unease.
Then, realization dawned.
"Wait…"
The weight of understanding settled heavily in his chest. No—this wasn't just a standard malfunction. This was catastrophic.
"You'll have to save him in every world because," the system paused dramatically, "your patient's soul has been fragmented into several pieces."
Icarus's heart sank.
Before he could demand an explanation, the golden lines of the system flared brightly.
The void around them trembled, and for the first time, a crack appeared in the blank space.
The system's voice became distorted. "Because of the glitch… the prince's soul has fragmented."
Another crack formed, spreading like a spiderweb.
"Each piece of him exists in a different world, in different times and spaces. And you, Doctor Wynn… will have to retrieve them all. Fulfil all of their desires."
A sharp pain lanced through Icarus's skull, white-hot and blinding.
He clenched his jaw, forcing his body to remain still even as his senses spiraled.
"Wait—"
The system's voice was barely audible now, breaking apart between the static.
"Transferring consciousness… Now."
The world shattered.
And everything went black.