Worldwalker: The Invisible King

Airi sat on the edge of my bed, legs curled beneath her, watching me with a kind of quiet intensity I was beginning to recognize too often.

I moved about the room methodically, setting down my bag, turning on the desk lamp, pulling a glass of water from the small fridge tucked in the corner. My movements were fluid, controlled—enough to seem human, but not enough to seem tired.

She noticed.

"You're too calm," she said finally.

I glanced at her. "Should I be panicking?"

"Maybe not," she muttered, folding her arms. "But it's like… nothing touches you anymore."

That wasn't true. Things touched me all the time—dimensional ruptures, divine surveillance, multiversal entropy—but none of those existed in this world.

And she was watching me like she wanted to pull me apart with her bare hands just to understand what I was made of.

"Ren," she said suddenly, "can I see your phone?"

That caught me off guard—but I didn't show it.

I blinked once. "Why?"

"I just… I don't know," she said, looking away. "You've been acting weird. Distant. And you're exhausted, even though you spend most of your free time alone."

"I told you. I haven't been sleeping well."

"You always say that," she said. Her voice was soft but sharper now, edged with teenage suspicion. "But even when we're… doing things…" she hesitated, cheeks flushing, "you're not tired then. You're present. Warm. Into it."

I said nothing. I didn't move.

"So if you're not worn out from that," she continued, "then where's all this… fatigue coming from?"

I raised a brow. "You think I'm hiding something."

"You are hiding something," she snapped—then instantly bit her lip, as if realizing she'd gone too far.

A pause stretched between us.

Finally, she tried again, this time with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Look, I'm not mad. I just…" She shifted, playing with the hem of her skirt. "You're a guy. Maybe you've been… watching stuff again. After, y'know… even after me. Maybe that's why you're tired."

I stared at her.

She turned redder, embarrassed and frustrated all at once.

"I just want to know. If you're… not satisfied or something."

Ah.

Jealousy. Possessiveness. Not anger, not yet. Just curiosity dressed in care.

"I'm not watching anything," I said flatly.

"Then show me."

I met her gaze, silent. Not annoyed. Not cold. Just unreadable.

"You want to check my phone," I said.

"Yes."

I reached into my pocket, unlocked the device, and handed it to her without a word.

Her fingers hesitated around it.

No passcode. No resistance.

No fear.

Because there was nothing on it.

Because this phone wasn't even real.

It functioned like any normal device—calls, messages, search history. But it was fabricated through layered illusion and dimensional scripting. Just another part of the mask I wore. It showed what I wanted it to show. It behaved like any other phone would. Except it was impossible to trace or corrupt. Even the OS was a custom mimic.

She scrolled through it slowly—apps, messages, browser.

A slight frown crossed her face. Nothing.

She set it down on the table.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Laptop, then."

I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, nodding once. "Go ahead."

She got up, moved to my desk, and powered on the laptop. Another illusion.

I kept it clean—not just in content, but in pattern. It had files, projects, browser tabs—schoolwork, games, music folders. I updated them frequently. I even created fake activity logs and random cookies to mimic daily use.

Airi scrolled. Clicked. Searched.

Then sat back, arms crossed.

"You're either the most boring teenage boy on Earth," she said slowly, "or you're hiding stuff too well."

I smiled, just faintly. "Maybe both."

She stared at me.

Then walked over and collapsed beside me again. "I'm not mad," she murmured. "Just scared."

"Of me?"

"No. Of… not knowing you. Of you drifting somewhere I can't follow."

My chest rose and fell once.

She nestled into my side. Her head against my shoulder. Her hand found mine.

"I love you, Ren," she whispered. "Even if you won't let me see all of you. I just want to stay close. That's all."

I said nothing.

Because I could give her my warmth. My touch. My lips, even.

But never me.