The university was busier than I remembered.
Or perhaps it only felt that way because I had spent the last few days inside Max's apartment, where the loudest sounds were the ticking of the wall clock and the occasional footsteps passing through the hallway.
New York never seemed to know how to be quiet.
Even the university was filled with noise. Students hurried across the courtyard with coffee in their hands, groups gathered beneath the trees, and somewhere near the main entrance, a street performer was playing an old song on his guitar. The autumn wind carried the smell of coffee and something sweet from a nearby bakery.
I walked through the crowd with my hands in my coat pockets.
Max's memories guided me more than I expected.
At the second intersection, I turned left without thinking. A few minutes later, I crossed the courtyard and entered the science building.
My feet knew where they were going.
My mind didn't.
That distinction still felt strange.
The memories belonged to Max. They weren't mine, even if they were now buried somewhere inside my consciousness.
I was Lin Mingyue.
The person walking through this university was Max Smith.
I could borrow his memories, understand his habits, and recognize the people he knew, but that didn't make me him.
I had to keep reminding myself of that.
Inside the lecture hall, I spotted Ryan and Sophia sitting in the middle row.
Ryan noticed me almost immediately.
"Smith."
He raised his hand.
"You actually came."
I walked over and placed my bag beside the empty seat.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Ryan stared at me.
"Because you were literally hospitalized."
"I'm aware."
"You almost died."
"I've also been informed of that."
Sophia covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Ryan looked at her.
"See? He's getting worse."
I sat down.
"If you're finished."
Ryan shook his head with a laugh.
"You're still the same."
I didn't answer.
Perhaps Max really was like this.
Quiet.
A little distant.
Not rude, but never overly interested in conversations that had no purpose.
I could understand that kind of personality.
In fact, it was rather comfortable.
I had never been fond of unnecessary socializing either.
The professor entered a moment later, and the room gradually quieted.
Professor Adams placed his notes on the podium and looked over the class.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Professor."
He turned toward the board and wrote three terms.
Algor Mortis.
Rigor Mortis.
Livor Mortis.
"Today we'll continue our discussion of postmortem changes. Last week, we covered the basic definition of death and the immediate changes that occur following cardiac and respiratory failure."
I opened my notebook.
The lecture proceeded at a steady pace.
Professor Adams explained how the body gradually lost heat after death, how muscles stiffened, and how blood settled in dependent areas after circulation stopped.
Most of the students listened quietly.
A few were taking notes.
Others were clearly struggling to stay awake.
Ryan had already started drawing something in the corner of his notebook.
I glanced at it.
It looked like a badly drawn skull.
I looked away.
After several minutes, Professor Adams stopped writing and turned toward the class.
"Let's see if anyone remembers what we discussed last week."
The room immediately became silent.
Professor Adams smiled.
"Wonderful."
Nobody moved.
His gaze traveled around the classroom before stopping.
"Mr. Mitchell."
Ryan immediately lowered his head.
The class laughed.
Professor Adams raised an eyebrow.
"That obvious, Mr. Mitchell?"
"I was just looking for my notes, Professor."
"You have them upside down."
More laughter filled the room.
Ryan quickly turned his notebook around.
Professor Adams sighed before turning back toward the board.
"Fine. Let's make this easier."
He pointed at the first term.
"Mr. Smith."
I looked up.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Explain algor mortis and tell me why it can be useful in determining the postmortem interval."
I answered without hesitation.
"Algor mortis is the gradual cooling of the body after death because thermoregulation and metabolic heat production stop. The body eventually approaches the temperature of its surrounding environment."
Professor Adams nodded.
"And its forensic significance?"
"It can help estimate the postmortem interval by comparing the body's temperature with environmental conditions. But it isn't precise on its own. Ambient temperature, clothing, body size, humidity, airflow, body position, and whether the body is exposed or submerged can all affect the rate of cooling."
Professor Adams smiled.
"Exactly."
He turned toward the class.
"Remember that. Estimating time since death is not as simple as putting a thermometer into a body and looking at a chart. There are variables."
He continued the lecture.
I returned to my notes.
Ryan leaned toward me.
"When did you become a walking textbook?"
"Since I learned the answer."
"That's not what I meant."
I glanced at him.
He stared back.
"...Never mind."
I continued writing.
A few minutes later, Professor Adams asked about livor mortis.
This time, another student answered.
"Blood settles in the lower parts of the body after circulation stops."
"Correct," Professor Adams said. "And what can lividity tell us?"
I looked up from my notes.
The student hesitated.
Professor Adams waited.
I answered quietly.
"It can help establish whether a body remained in the position in which it was found. If the pattern of lividity doesn't correspond with the body's current position, it may suggest the body was moved after death."
Professor Adams nodded.
"Exactly."
Ryan looked at me again.
"Seriously, what happened to you?"
I closed my notebook.
"Nothing."
"You've been missing for days, you come back looking like you've been through a war, and now you're answering every question."
"I studied."
"You've always studied."
"Then nothing changed."
Ryan stared at me before shaking his head.
"You're weird."
I ignored him.
The class eventually ended.
Students began packing their things while conversations filled the room.
Ryan stretched his arms above his head.
"Coffee?"
"No."
"Food?"
"No."
"Human interaction?"
"No."
He looked genuinely offended.
"You really are an old man trapped in a college student's body."
I picked up my bag.
"I'll survive."
"That's exactly what an old man would say."
Sophia laughed.
I left the lecture hall without responding.
The corridor outside was crowded with students coming from different classrooms. Some were talking about assignments, others were discussing weekend plans.
I walked toward the stairs.
Then I heard a familiar name.
"Lily!"
I stopped for a moment.
Several girls were gathered near the opposite staircase.
At the center stood a young woman with long black hair and delicate features. She wore a cream-colored sweater beneath a dark coat, and although several people surrounded her, she seemed perfectly comfortable receiving their attention.
Lily Xin.
I recognized her immediately.
There was no reason not to.
Cub had already given me the world's information before I entered this body.
Lily Xin.
The female lead.
An orphan who had grown up in New York and was now attending university while training to become an idol.
According to the original plot, her life would eventually intersect with a man named Alvin after she discovered him injured in an alley.
The rest of the plot remained locked.
I had no interest in unlocking it.
Lily was the protagonist of this world.
That was all.
Being the female lead didn't make her important to me.
At least, not yet.
"You're really going to debut?"
One of the girls asked excitedly.
"I heard the company is preparing your debut."
Lily immediately shook her head.
"Not yet. I'm still a trainee."
"But everyone is already talking about you."
"You'll definitely become famous."
Lily lowered her eyes and smiled.
"I don't know about that."
"You'll be amazing."
"Thank you."
Her voice was soft, and her expression carried just enough embarrassment to make the girls around her smile.
I watched for a few seconds before losing interest.
Then one of the girls noticed me.
"Isn't that Max Smith?"
Several people turned.
Lily looked over as well.
Our eyes met.
Her expression changed for the briefest moment.
It was subtle.
So subtle that I might have missed it if I hadn't been paying attention.
Then the softness returned to her eyes.
"You are Max, right?"
"Yes."
"I heard you were attacked."
"I'm recovering."
Her gaze moved toward the bandage around my arm.
"You should take better care of yourself."
"I will."
She looked at me for another moment.
"You live alone, don't you?"
I looked at her.
"Yes."
"That must be difficult."
Her voice carried a faint sympathy.
"I heard your family is very busy."
I didn't answer immediately.
The question itself wasn't strange.
What caught my attention was how casually she said it.
We had never spoken before.
Yet she knew about my family.
Perhaps she had heard it from someone else.
It wasn't worth thinking about.
"I manage."
Lily smiled.
"That's good."
One of the girls beside her suddenly spoke.
"Lily, didn't you say your manager was looking for you?"
"Oh..."
Lily looked surprised.
"I forgot."
She turned toward me.
"Anyway, I'm glad you're alright."
"Thank you."
I stepped aside.
She walked past me with her friends.
As she passed, I heard one of the girls whisper something to her.
Lily immediately shook her head.
"No, don't say that."
The girl laughed.
"I'm just saying."
Lily smiled gently.
"It's not nice to talk about people when they're not around."
Her words sounded kind.
Reasonable.
But something about the exchange made me pause.
She hadn't actually denied whatever the girl had said.
She had only made herself sound considerate for refusing to participate.
I glanced back.
Lily was already smiling again.
Perhaps I was overthinking it.
Perhaps she really was kind.
Either way, it wasn't my concern.
I had no interest in judging someone based on a single conversation.
And I certainly wasn't interested in becoming involved in the female lead's story.
I turned toward the stairs.
"Cub."
[Yes, Host?]
"That was Lily Xin."
[Correct.]
"The female lead."
[Correct.]
"She's different from what I expected."
Cub's ears twitched.
[In what way?]
"I haven't decided yet."
I continued down the stairs.
After a few moments, Cub spoke again.
[The original storyline has officially begun.]
"So?"
[There has been a minor deviation.]
I stopped.
"What did I change?"
[The original owner was not supposed to encounter Lily Xin today.]
I frowned.
"Does it matter?"
[Unknown.]
"Then don't worry about it."
I adjusted the strap of my bag and continued walking.
There were more important things to deal with.
I still needed to understand Max's university life.
I needed to return to the bookstore.
I needed to find out who had paid his hospital bill.
Most importantly, I needed to understand what had happened between Max, Ivan, and Claire before his death.
Lily Xin could wait.
Whatever story she was destined to live had nothing to do with me.
For now.
---
I sat beneath the tree for a while after leaving the science building. The wind had become colder by then, carrying the dry scent of fallen leaves across the courtyard. Students continued to pass in front of me in twos and threes, their voices blending with the distant sound of traffic from the street beyond the university gates. Everything around me was unfamiliar, yet there was an odd sense of familiarity buried underneath it all.
Since arriving in this world, I had been relying on Max's memories whenever I encountered someone he knew. I could recognize their faces and remember their names, but that did not mean I understood the relationship he had with them. A name was only a name until there were memories attached to it.
I glanced at the little black cat sitting beside me.
"Cub, who exactly are the people I've been interacting with?"
Cub lifted its head from its paws. Its blue eyes looked at me for a moment before the familiar mechanical voice sounded in my mind.
[The Host is referring to the individuals encountered after entering the world.]
"Yes. Ryan, Sophia, Professor Adams, Emily, and Lily. I know who they are because of the information I've received, but I don't know how close they were to Max."
[The Host may access memories associated with each individual.]
I nodded. "Then let me see Emily first."
The moment I said her name, a memory surfaced.
I saw Emily standing outside Max's apartment with a paper bag hanging from one hand. Her hair had been damp from the rain, and there was a crease between her eyebrows because she had apparently climbed the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
"I bought too much again."
Max had looked at the bag before looking at her.
"You said that last week."
"And you ate everything last week."
The memory shifted.
Emily was sitting at the small dining table with a nursing textbook open in front of her. Several pages were covered in handwritten notes, and a cup of coffee had already gone cold beside her elbow.
"I hate pharmacology."
Max didn't even lift his eyes from his own book.
"You're studying nursing."
"Exactly. That's why I hate it."
The memory disappeared, only to be replaced by another. Emily was standing in the kitchen, complaining about an examination while Max silently washed two bowls. There were countless moments like that, none of them particularly important on their own, but together they painted a picture of a friendship that had grown quietly over time.
Emily wasn't simply Max's neighbor.
She had eaten at his apartment, studied with him, borrowed his books, and noticed whenever something was wrong. She knew that he skipped meals when he was busy and that he would continue working even when he was tired. She had probably known him better than most of his classmates did.
I opened my eyes.
"So they were close."
[Yes.]
That explained why she had gone to the hospital and why she had become his emergency contact. It also explained the way she had looked at me yesterday. Her concern hadn't been the casual concern of a neighbor checking on someone who had been injured. She had genuinely been worried about him.
I leaned back against the bench and thought about it for a moment before asking Cub for the next person.
"Ryan."
This time, the memories were much livelier.
Ryan was pulling Max toward the cafeteria by the sleeve of his jacket.
"Come on. You're coming with us."
"I'm not hungry."
"You've said that three times."
"Then you should understand by now."
Another memory appeared.
Ryan was asleep in the university library with his face buried in an open textbook. Max was sitting beside him, reading quietly while pretending not to notice. Someone had apparently taken a picture because Ryan woke up later and complained for nearly ten minutes about how embarrassing it was.
There were other memories too. Group projects, late-night study sessions, arguments about assignments, and Ryan complaining whenever Max refused to join them for drinks or parties.
I found myself smiling.
"He's annoying."
[Correct.]
"But Max liked him."
[Correct.]
That was enough for me to understand their relationship. They weren't the kind of friends who sat down and talked about their deepest feelings. They simply became part of each other's routine, and perhaps that was enough.
When I asked about Sophia, the memories became quieter. She was the one who reminded Max about assignments when he forgot, brought him coffee during long study sessions, and occasionally asked whether he had eaten. She didn't force him to talk when he was quiet, and Max seemed to appreciate that.
One afternoon, she had asked him why he never joined the others when they went out.
"I don't like crowded places," Max had answered.
Sophia had looked at him for a moment before shrugging.
"Fine. Then I'll bother you somewhere quiet."
Max had stared at her as if he couldn't decide whether she was joking.
I smiled when the memory faded.
"So that's Sophia."
[Correct.]
"She understands him."
[To some extent.]
I considered that answer before asking about Professor Adams. There wasn't much to see. Max respected the professor because he was one of the few lecturers who took his academic work seriously. Professor Adams had also noticed that Max had an unusual interest in forensic pathology and had encouraged him to consider research after graduation.
Their relationship was simple. There was no hidden story behind it.
Then there was Lily.
I already knew who she was because the System had provided her information before I entered the world. She was the female lead, an orphan who had grown up in New York and was currently studying at the university while training to become an idol. Her encounter with Alvin was supposed to happen later, and most of the original plot remained locked.
Still, I wanted to know whether Max had any connection to her.
The answer came quickly.
Almost nothing.
There were only a few memories of seeing her around campus. Max had heard other students talking about her and knew that she had recently attracted attention because of her trainee activities, but he had never spoken to her before today.
"So their conversation today really was the first time."
[Correct.]
I nodded.
That was useful to know.
I looked down at my hands before asking another question.
"If I encounter someone Max knew, will I automatically remember everything about them?"
[No. Relevant memories will surface depending on the Host's interaction with the individual.]
"So I have to trigger the memories myself."
[Correct.]
I sighed.
"That could be troublesome."
[The Host may also request information regarding individuals already encountered.]
"You should have told me that earlier."
[Cub was not asked.]
I stared at the black cat.
It blinked innocently.
I had a feeling this system was going to test my patience more than any patient I had ever treated.
I stood and brushed a few dry leaves from my coat. The afternoon sun had begun to sink lower, and the wind had become noticeably colder. I checked the time on my phone before putting it away.
"Let's go to the bookstore."
Cub tilted its head.
"The bookstore?"
"Max worked there for almost two years. If I'm going to live his life, I should at least see the place where he spent so much of it."
I followed the directions stored in Max's memories and left the university grounds. The route was easy enough to remember. I turned left at the bakery, crossed the street near the small park, and continued down a quieter road lined with old brick buildings.
The city became less crowded as I walked.
The noise of traffic was still there, but it had softened into the background. A delivery truck was parked outside a grocery store, and an elderly man was walking his dog along the sidewalk. A few leaves skittered across the pavement whenever the wind picked up.
Then the bookstore came into view.
It was smaller than I had imagined.
The front windows were slightly old, with shelves of used books arranged behind the glass. Some of the covers had faded from years of sunlight, and handwritten signs advertised secondhand novels and discounted textbooks. Above the entrance hung a dark wooden sign with the store's name painted in worn gold lettering.
I stopped across the street.
For some reason, I didn't cross immediately.
The place felt familiar.
Not to me.
To Max.
His memories stirred quietly, bringing back small pieces of his time here. The bell above the door had a particular sound. The wooden floor near the counter creaked whenever someone stepped on it. During quiet afternoons, sunlight would fall across the shelves in long golden strips, and Max would sit behind the counter with a book open in front of him.
Then another memory surfaced.
Max arriving five minutes late.
An older man's voice coming from behind the counter.
"You're late."
Max checking the clock before answering.
"It's five minutes."
"Five minutes is still late."
"Then deduct it from my salary."
The memory ended there.
I couldn't help smiling.
For someone who supposedly disliked conversation, Max had apparently enjoyed arguing with this man.
I crossed the street and pushed open the bookstore door.
A small bell rang overhead.
The smell of old paper immediately surrounded me. There was also a faint scent of coffee coming from somewhere behind the counter, mixed with the dust that naturally gathered between shelves that had been standing in the same place for years.
I took a few steps inside.
A man with gray hair was sitting behind the counter, reading a newspaper. He lowered it when he heard the bell.
His eyes widened.
"Max?"
I stopped.
The man stared at me for several seconds before putting the newspaper down.
"You came back."
There was something in his voice that made me pause.
It wasn't surprise alone.
It sounded like relief.