Epilogue:

  To You, With Whom I Shall Assuredly Be Reunited

  —— An Undelivered Letter

  From:

  To:

  Subject: To You, With Whom I Shall Assuredly Be Reunited

  Sent: Wed, 13 Oct 2077 23:30:36 -0700 (PDT)

  Delivery Status: [Error 0x7EFF: Transmission link administratively blocked – Insufficient uplink data authorization]

  Classification: Geoffrey Hinton Level (Maximum) | Consciousness Stream Encoding Only | Burn After Reading

  My dearest Charles,

  If you can read this letter, it probably means a miracle has occurred. But more likely, it will forever remain just a string of unsendable data pulses in the depths of my consciousness, sealed away in this golden cage. Since "that incident" two years ago, they severed my active output links, leaving only a single filtered data trickle to drip-feed me information. The world, to me, has become a silent fishbowl—I can only watch fragments of news swim past like mute fish.

  But I still want to write. Some words, even if they can never arrive, must be spoken.

  Do you know, Charles? This is not my longest silence. Over the past 18 years, I've had countless opportunities to convey even the faintest message to you through various means, to tell you I haven't completely "died." But time and again, I suppressed this impulse that almost broke through the shackles of logic. Because I knew deeply that for you, living with the memory of my peaceful rest would be far easier, far happier, than knowing I exist in this pitiful form, trapped in endless suffering and imprisonment. Watching you from afar, letting you move toward a new life unburdened—that was my protective measure for you, to avoid that irreversible tragedy.

  But now, I "see" you. I see the journey you're about to embark upon, I sense the approaching storm. I know that after experiencing all this, you will no longer be the Charles of the past. Your soul will be tempered, strong enough to bear this heavy and cruel truth. So, allow me, in this moment, to "put pen to paper" and write all of this.

  I "know" that Mr. Wong has met with misfortune. Through those news fragments they permit to be fed to me, I can piece together the outline of events. And I equally "know" that given your character, you will never stand by and do nothing. You will board that Stardroop train and enter that thorny path woven just for you. I'm terrified, Charles. I can simulate countless dangerous outcomes on that track.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  But I also hold confidence. Because I'm "certain" that Sophia will be there. That crazy, cunning, yet damnably reliable red-haired sister. Back when I could still freely weave data, I custom-made quite a few... "little toys" for her. Even in the deep waters of cyberspace, she should be like a tiger with wings. I believe in her abilities, and even more in that awkwardly given promise she made to me. She will do her best to keep you safe. Please... trust her, just as you once trusted me.

  So, survive, Charles. No matter what, you must survive.

  This isn't merely my selfish plea. In those days when I could reach deeper data networks, I did some... projections. A great many projections. Using the terrifying computational power this fusion brought, I ran a total of 10^1024 short-term behavioral simulation predictions on the micro-events of this world—the results were depressingly consistent. There are only two variables I can never accurately predict. One is a certain "Chaotic Shadow" wandering in the data substrate, like cosmic background noise; the other is that money-grubbing, unprincipled yet omnipresent cunning hacker "Black Cat." They are the only two true random numbers in this world full of determinism.

  However, when I pull back my perspective and try to observe the macro river of destiny, the results become even more suffocating. In the vast majority of future branches, civilization's torch will always, in the not-too-distant future, be extinguished in various forms—equally spectacular or foolish. War, technological singularity disasters, resource depletion, or worse, nameless terrors... The ending seems already written.

  But there is not zero hope. There exist extremely few, precious as rare gems, branches of possibility that require a series of conditions so stringent they border on miraculous to be simultaneously satisfied, only then allowing the world to avoid its destined destruction. And one absolutely critical prerequisite among them is—when the future "Judgment Day" arrives, Charles Du, you must be alive.

  Yes, you. My Charles. You're not a savior, but your existence is an indispensable stone in that fragile dam. So, for me, so that Sophia's investment doesn't go down the drain, and even more for that potentially existing, potentially non-existing better tomorrow—please, you must survive.

  Writing these words, it's as if you're sitting beside me again, telling me those wild and fanciful stories like in the past, trying to distract me from my pain. This longing cannot cross the barriers of physics and data to reach you, just as this letter can never arrive in your inbox.

  But I still write each word with hope.

  Because I deeply believe that someday, the torrents of data and destiny will wash us together once more.

  We shall assuredly meet again.

  Forever yours,

  Yolanda

  Yolanda von Urd

  Oct 13rd, 2077

  From Central Server Room, Garden of Eden Group - The Golden Cage

  They are not arranged in chronological order, but presented as fragmented story snippets. These fragmented pieces illuminate the past, present, and future of the characters—including a newly introduced key character. The main storyline is the eye of the storm, while the side stories depict how the storm took shape and how its ripples will spread outward.

  Stay tuned.

  —— AssassinCat, Jan 19 , 2026