Chapter Text
The world was too bright, too sharp, too loud. Pomni blinked hard but the colours didn’t calm down — they pulsed, like her vision was breathing. She didn’t know where she was, who she was, if she was even fully real in this moment. She felt like her name was in her throat but she’d forgotten how to say it. Her knees trembled and she forced out a breath that sounded like it didn’t belong to her.
“Oh! You’re awake! Hi — hi there!” Ragatha’s voice rushed in first. She stepped closer but it wasn’t confidence, it was careful, like approaching a scared animal. Her button eyes shimmered faintly. “You’re okay. Don’t panic. Everyone panics the first time.”
Pomni swallowed. “First time what?”
Zooble scoffed from the side, mechanical limbs clacking with lazy irritation. “First time existing in this nightmare. Blah blah blah — welcome to the circus, new girl.”
Ragatha shot Zooble a look sharp enough to cut. “Can you just be decent for once? She’s literally shaking.”
Gangle drifted nearer, ribbons dragging against the floor like something tired. “W-we promise we’re not that scary. Most days. Some days. Hard to say.” She fumbled her masks, the comedy one slipping and cracking more.
Pomni turned instinctively when another presence leaned in behind her. A lazy drawling voice, the type that wasn’t really invested but wanted to sound amused anyway.
“So,” Jax said, arms folded like he was leaning on the very air, “what’s your name, spawn point?”
Pomni’s mouth opened — but the syllables felt like they dissolved before forming. Like she’d said it thousands of times and her brain was glitching on the first letter. “Pom… Pomni.” Something in her chest twisted painfully. “I think.”
Jax’s eyebrow lifted. For a fraction of a second, microscopic and fleeting, he looked like he recognised it. But then he smirked, defaulting into sarcasm like a shield. “Cute. Let’s hope you last longer than the last few.”
Kinger curled up on the floor near a stack of floating cards, crown rattling with every twitch of his head. He rocked back and forth, muttering something that sounded like static and dread pressed into syllables. Pomni stared. Something in him — something about how desperately terrified he was — made her blood run cold.
“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.
Ragatha took too long to answer. Gangle’s ribbons twisted. Zooble looked away. Only Kinger spoke.
“It resets,” he murmured, voice cracking. “It resets. Again and again and again.”
Pomni’s breath caught. “What resets?”
Zooble snapped sharply, like trying to shut him up would undo the words already spoken. “Ignore him. He’s scrambled.”
“No no no,” Kinger’s voice rose, shaking, “it resets the cycles, the memories, the connections—”
“Stop,” Ragatha hissed, fear in her voice now. “Please. Not in front of the new one. She can’t handle—”
But Pomni pulled back, heart hammering hard enough she felt it in her tongue. Something was wrong. Something was too familiar. This place. These voices. These faces. She didn’t know them and yet her bones reacted like she did. Like she’d sat here before. Like she’d heard their voices in dreams too vivid to be dreams.
Her voice came out small, cracking in the middle. “Why does it feel like I’ve met all of you already?”
Everything froze.
Zooble’s hands stopped moving. Gangle dropped her mask completely, porcelain shattering. Ragatha’s breath caught in her throat. Jax stared at Pomni without a smirk — not mocking. Not bored. Just startled. Haunted. Kinger’s rocking ceased, his wide eyes staring at her like she was a prophecy.
“She remembers,” he whispered, not blinking. “Too soon. She remembers.”
Pomni didn’t understand any of this — but she felt the fear ripple through them like her presence was dangerous. And deep in her chest, there was this horrible ache, like she had forgotten someone she used to care about more than anything. Someone she’d lost before.
In the silence that stretched like a scream held in the air, Pomni realised something awful:
everyone else here already knew this moment.
she was the only one who didn’t.
and yet — her heart still hurt as if she had lost all of them a thousand times.
Pomni lay on her back in that floating, unreal room and stared up at the ceiling that wasn’t a ceiling at all — just a shifting gradient of pastel colours that moved like screensaver foam. Her breathing was uneven. She kept thinking her lungs weren’t even real. Like she was trying to simulate what breathing should feel like, not experiencing it naturally. She lifted her hand and flexed her fingers. They moved like rubber. Like someone had animated them one frame too slowly. It made her feel sick, but the kind of sick that lived behind the eyes, not in the stomach.
She whispered, “I’m Pomni.” And for one horrifying second… she wasn’t sure if that was even true.
She exhaled and sat up very slowly, her chest heavy and tight, trying to ground herself but there was nothing in this place that counted as normal. Nothing to anchor to. She stared at the door and debated opening it. She had no idea what time meant here. Did they sleep? Was sleeping just another simulation? Was she supposed to feel tired… or was this feeling just a learned instinct carried over from a life she could not remember?
Pomni stood and moved silently to the door, pushing her hand against the surface. It opened without needing to be turned or pulled. There was no hinge. No seam. The world simply decided that door was now “open.”
She stepped out.
The hall was empty and quiet, but it wasn’t real silence — it was that electric hum of code under everything. The floor wasn’t solid. It was like walking on a gently bouncing trampoline surface, but not enough to break balance. Just enough to remind her gravity was an optional setting here. She hated it. She hated how nothing in this place obeyed the rules her body expected.
She walked anyway.
A door on her right slid open automatically and Jax stepped out at the exact same moment, completely by accident — like they’d chosen to cross at that second. Pomni froze. Jax’s hand was still in the air from pushing his imaginary door open. He blinked once, then raised an eyebrow.
“Oh wow,” he drawled, scratching the back of his head lazily, “look at you. Already roaming around like you own the place.”
Pomni swallowed. “I… couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah,” Jax said casually, “that tends to happen when the universe gets ripped out from under your feet.” He said it with a smirk, but something in his eyes flickered. Maybe regret. Maybe understanding. Maybe something he didn’t want to admit.
Pomni struggled to find words. “Is it always like this?”
Jax shrugged one shoulder. “Depends what you mean. The confusion? The fear? The whole existential meltdown thing?” He tilted his head. “More or less.”
Pomni looked at the floor, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She could tell that would just give him fuel to make jokes. Except… she wasn’t entirely sure anymore if his jokes were actually meant to hurt. There was this strange softness in the way he paused between sentences. Like he wanted to act like he didn’t care, but something inside him was cracking at the edges.
Jax suddenly shifted his tone. Softer. Sharper. More honest. “Look, newbie.” He licked his teeth thoughtfully. “You’re not gonna understand everything tonight.”
Pomni whispered, barely audible, “I don’t understand anything.”
Jax stared at her quietly for a moment. The silence stretched. Then he leaned back against the wall — except he didn’t lean on anything. There was no wall. He just pretended to lean because that was easier than admitting he needed a surface to steady himself. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly.
“You’ll adapt,” he muttered, voice almost gentle. “Even if you don’t want to.”
Pomni felt a shiver go down her spine. The floor vibrated lightly beneath them, like the world was shifting again — just a subtle rearrangement of geometry. Pomni startled. Jax didn’t flinch at all.
Pomni looked around nervously. “What was that?”
“That?” Jax said, bored. “Just Caine smoothing out some runtime jitters. Happens all the time. Don’t think about it too hard.” He flicked his wrist and started walking. “Actually — don’t think about anything too hard. That’s how people end up like Kinger.”
Pomni hesitated before following him. “What do you mean?”
Jax clicked his tongue. “He remembered too much. He got too close to the truth. And the truth cracked him like an eggshell.” Jax said this with a weird casual tone — but his gaze dropped to the floor when he said it, like there was a shadow behind the words that scared him more than he wanted to admit.
Pomni slowed her pace. “So you’re saying we’re not supposed to ask questions.”
Jax snorted. “Oh, you can ask them all you want. Just don’t expect answers that won’t break you.” He shot her a sideways glance. “This place doesn’t reward curiosity. It punishes it.”
Pomni’s pulse thudded painfully. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing here makes sense,” Jax whispered so quietly it sounded like he was talking to himself, not her.
The two of them reached the main hub area, where furniture floated without physics, screens flickered with symbols Pomni didn’t recognize, and the air smelled faintly like static electricity. Ragatha was there, tidying up random pieces of fabric that didn’t seem to serve any purpose.
Ragatha looked up, surprised. “Oh! Pomni — you’re awake! I didn’t think you’d be up this soon. Everything okay?”
Pomni didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain the gnawing emptiness in her chest. So she just nodded.
Ragatha stepped forward kindly. “Sometimes the first night is the worst. You haven’t formed attachments yet. You haven’t found routines yet. The mind needs structure.”
Pomni frowned. “Have you always been here?”
Ragatha paused.
Just a fraction of a second.
But it was long enough.
Jax’s eyes flicked sharply toward Ragatha — like he caught that hesitation too.
Ragatha forced a smile. “It’s hard to explain.”
Pomni didn’t miss the crack in her voice.
Ragatha cleared her throat and tried again. “We don’t measure time here the way real worlds do. Days don’t really… exist.” She forced another breathy laugh. “It’s silly to try to think of it like that.”
Pomni stared at her. “But you remember being here before this moment, right?”
Ragatha opened her mouth — then closed it. Then she looked away. “Of course.”
But there was something in the way she said it that made Pomni’s stomach twist.
Pomni stepped further into the room and her gaze landed on Kinger. He was perched on top of a floating box, staring into the void of the simulated sky, his eyes wide and tired.
Pomni approached slowly. “Kinger… what did you mean when you said it resets?”
Kinger flinched so hard he almost toppled off the box. He turned his head toward her cautiously. “You shouldn’t think about it.”
“But I already am,” Pomni whispered.
Kinger’s eyes widened with genuine fear. “You should stop.”
Pomni shook her head. “I can’t.”
Kinger leaned closer, hands trembling. “It’s not safe for your mind to go where you’re going. It’s not allowed. The system will correct it. It always does. And then—”
He stopped.
His voice cracked.
“And then everyone starts over.”
Pomni froze.
Jax, who had been pretending not to listen, slowly turned his head toward them. His voice was sharp. “Kinger.”
Kinger squeezed his eyes shut. “Just… don’t remember. Don’t let yourself remember. The more you remember, the more real the pain gets. And the more real the pain gets…”
His jaw trembled.
“…the faster the reset comes.”
Pomni stared at him, horrified.
Ragatha came over quickly, putting a gentle hand on Pomni’s arm. “Come on. Let’s — let’s get you some coffee. It helps. Not really. But sometimes pretending helps.”
Pomni let Ragatha guide her, but her eyes were still locked on Kinger. And Kinger looked back at her with pity. Like he had seen this exact conversation a thousand times, with different cycles of Pomni, different cycles of Jax, different cycles of everyone.
Ragatha led Pomni to a floating counter that served as a “kitchen” and began preparing something. Pomni watched the fluid pour out of a surreal kettle — it looked like liquid neon.
Ragatha spoke softly. “Don’t let yourself spiral. Please. Take it slow. It’s better that way. Everything gets easier if you let your brain numb itself a little. You don’t need to understand too much yet.”
Pomni could feel her pulse in her fingers.
She whispered, “But what if I already understand too much?”
Ragatha’s hands froze.
Pomni stared down into the neon tea and felt her breath tremble. Every instinct in her body screamed that she already knew these people. Not from today. But long before today. Like her soul was older than her memory.
Jax leaned against nothing again and called over, voice quieter than before. “Don’t torture yourself, newbie. This place is confusing enough without adding philosophy to it.”
Pomni turned toward him. “How long have you been here?”
Jax shrugged. “Dunno. Long enough. Too long.” Then he smirked again. “Long enough to know that trying to solve the puzzle only makes it worse.”
Pomni swallowed. “Do you ever feel like… you’ve been here before?”
Jax went still.
For the first time since Pomni met him — he didn’t have an answer.
He didn’t joke.
He didn’t smirk.
He just stared at her, eyes sharp and strangely sad — like she had poked at a nerve he didn’t realize he had.
Ragatha stepped in quickly, almost panicked. “Pomni — let’s just, let’s change the subject, okay?”
Pomni looked down, feeling suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
“No— it’s okay,” Ragatha said too fast. “You’re overwhelmed. That’s all.”
Pomni sipped the neon tea. It tasted like warmth and nostalgia and something else she couldn’t place — like a memory she had lost.
Gangle approached shyly, carrying her repaired comedy mask, glued together messily. “Y-you’re doing okay, I-i-is she?”
Ragatha forced a smile. “She’s trying.”
Gangle nodded and tried to look comforting, but her hands shook.
Pomni realised everyone here was scared.
Even the ones who acted confident.
Especially Jax.
She set the cup down. “I want to explore. I want to see more.”
Ragatha hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Pomni nodded.
Ragatha sighed. “Alright. But stay near one of us. The circus has… corners that aren’t meant for wandering.”
Jax stretched his arms above his head lazily. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on her. Better me than her tripping into Kinger’s spiral dimension or whatever.”
Ragatha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.
Pomni stood, heart pounding hard enough to shake her ribs.
She didn’t know why — but she felt like the next steps she took would matter.
Like she was walking toward something familiar.
Jax walked ahead of her, hands in his pockets, pretending not to care — but slowing down just enough for her to keep up.
Pomni followed him through a corridor that bent without bending, turning in directions that didn’t make geometric sense. The walls flickered occasionally, like texture files reloading. Every flicker made Pomni’s stomach twist.
She whispered behind him, “Has it always been like this?”
Jax didn’t turn around. “Always is a big word.”
Pomni frowned. “You mean you don’t remember before this place?”
Jax scoffed. “Memory’s overrated.”
But he said it with bitterness, not humor.
Pomni wanted to push further, but something in her chest told her not to. She didn’t want to break something fragile.
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a corner where the world seemed quieter. Less chaotic. There was a faint glow coming from a small doorway — a glitching shimmer that looked like static trapped in a frame. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Pomni’s breath caught.
Jax noticed where she was looking and immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “Don’t.” His voice wasn’t sarcastic. It was scared. Terrified.
Pomni’s heart thudded. “What is that?”
Jax shook his head sharply. “Nothing. Just set dressing. Forget it.”
But Pomni’s eyes had already locked on that shimmer. Something deep inside her chest reacted to it like recognition. Like that doorway wasn’t new. Like she had seen it before. Like she had walked through it before. Like something in there mattered to her more than anything else in this world.
Ragatha called from the distance, her voice shaky. “Jax — bring her back. Now.”
Jax stared at Pomni with a look she had never seen from him before — raw fear. Not fear of the glitch. Fear of letting her near it.
He reached for her arm —rough, harsh — just firmly enough to guide.
“Come on,” he whispered, “don’t start this. Please.”
Pomni froze.
Jax never said “please.”
Pomni blinked slowly. “Why are you scared of it?”
Jax’s jaw clenched. For a moment — a single crack in his bravado — his voice came out like a confession dragged up from somewhere deep:
“Because I think I’ve seen it before.”
Pomni’s breath stopped.
Jax swallowed hard.
“And every time — I think I lost something.”
Pomni felt her entire body go cold.
Ragatha rushed forward, grabbing Pomni gently but firmly by the shoulders. “We need to go. Right now. Before—”
The lights flickered.
The air warped.
The glitch shimmer pulsed once — like something inside it recognized them.
And Pomni felt that same stab in her chest — the bruise of a broken connection she hadn’t earned yet — come alive like a wound reopening.
She whispered, voice trembling uncontrollably, “I think I lost something too.”
Jax looked at her — truly looked — and his expression wasn’t mocking or amused or bored.
It was grief.
Ragatha shook, trying to pull Pomni away. “This is too soon — she shouldn’t — she can’t— not yet—”
Pomni didn’t fight, but her eyes stayed glued to the glitching doorway as Ragatha forced her back around the corner, away from it. Jax walked behind them, silent. For once not making a single joke.
They returned to the main hub again, the world slightly darker now — like a dimmer switch had been pulled down just a bit. The others were quiet. No one complained. No one chattered. No one tried to distract from the tension.
Pomni sat down, heart racing, sweat forming on her brow even though she wasn’t sure she had pores. She felt a weight in her chest like grief and déjà vu were the same substance.
Jax finally sat down across from her — not close, but not far either. He stared at the floor. Pomni watched him, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t. The silence grew heavy.
Ragatha, voice trembling, spoke softly. “Tea isn’t going to help this time.”
Pomni looked at her. And suddenly — she felt like crying. Not because she was scared.
But because she felt like she had experienced this exact helpless moment before.
Jax finally whispered — barely audible — “Newbie?”
Pomni looked at him, eyes shimmering.
Jax’s lips twitched like he wanted to smirk again, but he couldn’t force it. He just looked exhausted. Sad. Confused. “You really shouldn’t have looked at that.”
Pomni whispered back, “I didn’t walk through it.”
Jax stared at her, eyes darkening. “You didn’t have to. Just seeing it is enough to start everything.”
Ragatha put her hands over her mouth like she was trying not to cry.
Kinger rocked violently again. “It’s starting early this time,” he muttered, panicked. “It’s starting early again.”
Pomni looked around at them — at their terrified reactions — and suddenly she understood something horrifying:
They weren’t scared for themselves.
They were scared for her.
Pomni whispered, “What’s starting?”
Silence swallowed the room.
Zooble finally answered with a flat, hollow voice:
“The end of this cycle.”
Pomni froze.
Jax closed his eyes.
Ragatha reached for Pomni’s hand but couldn’t bring herself to touch it.
Kinger laughed — a bitter, broken laugh — like hope was a joke he’d heard too many times.
Gangle dropped her mask.
Pomni felt the bruise in her chest throb — hard and sharp — like something inside her heart was screaming to be remembered.
And for the first time since she arrived, Pomni wasn’t just frightened.
She was mourning.
For something she hadn’t even remembered losing yet.