There was something in Mr. Dawson's voice that made me stop.
It wasn't surprise alone. He sounded relieved, as though he had been expecting me to walk through that door sooner or later.
I looked at him for a moment before the memories came back.
Mr. Dawson.
He had owned the bookstore for years and had been the one who hired Max when he was still a freshman. Max had originally taken the job because he wanted some spending money and preferred working somewhere quiet. Over time, the bookstore had become familiar enough that Max could move around without thinking about it.
"You look terrible," Mr. Dawson said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"That's a warm welcome."
"It's an honest one."
He came around the counter and looked at the bruising on my face before examining my arm.
"Does this hurt?"
"Not much."
"Then why are you here?"
"I wanted to see the place."
"You could have looked at the place after you recovered."
"I'm recovering."
"You've been recovering for what, five days?"
"Four."
Mr. Dawson stared at me.
I stared back.
He sighed.
"You've always been stubborn."
"So I've heard."
"You hear a lot and listen to nothing."
"I listen."
"You just don't obey."
I didn't bother answering that.
He returned behind the counter and pointed toward the chair.
"Sit."
"I can stand."
"I know. Sit anyway."
I sat down.
Mr. Dawson went back to his newspaper, apparently satisfied with himself.
I looked around the bookstore while he read. The shelves were exactly as Max remembered them. Some were slightly crooked, and the wooden floor had several scratches that had probably accumulated over the years. The place wasn't large enough to get lost in, but there were enough shelves to make it feel separate from the busy streets outside.
My eyes landed on the coffee machine behind the counter.
A memory surfaced.
Max standing there before his shift, making coffee while Mr. Dawson complained that he was using too much coffee grounds.
"You drink too much."
"I'm working."
"That's not an excuse."
"It is for me."
I looked at the machine.
I had never been much of a coffee person. Tea was easier, and I preferred its lighter taste. But Max apparently liked coffee enough for Mr. Dawson to have noticed his habit.
I couldn't suddenly start refusing coffee without giving people a reason to wonder what had happened to me.
So when Mr. Dawson asked, "Want some?" I hesitated only briefly.
"Sure."
He stood up and poured another cup.
I accepted it.
The smell was pleasant enough.
The taste was another matter.
I took a sip and kept my expression neutral.
Mr. Dawson watched me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You don't like it."
"I didn't say that."
"You made the same face you always make."
I took another sip.
"It's fine."
Mr. Dawson snorted.
"You're a terrible liar."
I placed the cup down.
"You made it."
"Exactly."
"Then criticizing it would be rude."
He stared at me for a second before laughing.
"Since when did you become considerate?"
"I've always been considerate."
"No. You just learned to phrase your insults politely."
I almost smiled.
The conversation was easy enough that I didn't need to think too much about what to say. Max's memories gave me enough of their usual conversations to avoid saying anything too strange, and Mr. Dawson was familiar enough with Max that I could simply let the conversation move naturally.
He leaned against the counter.
"Your grandparents called."
I looked up.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"What did they say?"
"They wanted to know how you were doing."
I nodded.
"That's normal."
"Your grandmother asked if you were eating."
"I am."
"She asked if you were sleeping."
"I'm trying."
"She asked if you were taking your medicine."
"Yes."
Mr. Dawson smiled.
"Good."
He picked up his newspaper again.
"She also asked if you were coming back to work."
I looked at him.
"What did you tell her?"
"That you'd come back when you were ready."
"That's accurate."
"I know."
I looked toward the shelves.
The answer left me strangely quiet.
Max's grandparents were worried about him. Mr. Dawson had kept his job open. Emily had stayed at the hospital. Ryan had come looking for him.
There were more people around Max than I had initially realized.
Yet none of that explained the distance between him and his siblings.
That was something I still needed to understand.
The bell above the door rang.
I looked up.
The same young man from yesterday entered the bookstore.
I recognized him immediately.
He was the customer who had been looking through the forensic pathology section.
Max's memories gave me no information about him. Apparently, they had never crossed paths before.
The young man walked toward the back shelves without looking around much.
Mr. Dawson glanced up from his newspaper.
"Back again?"
The man nodded.
"Yes."
"Looking for something?"
"Same section."
Mr. Dawson pointed toward the back.
"Second shelf."
The man nodded and walked away.
I looked at him for a moment before returning my attention to the coffee.
I didn't know his name.
I didn't know which university he attended.
For all I knew, he could have been a regular customer who happened to like forensic books.
There was no reason to ask.
I took another sip of coffee.
It was still terrible.
I decided I preferred tea.
But that was something I would have to keep to myself.
A few minutes later, the young man came back with two books in his hands. He placed them on the counter while Mr. Dawson checked the prices.
I remained seated.
Neither of us spoke.
There was no reason for us to.
The young man paid for the books and left a moment later.
The bell rang softly behind him.
Mr. Dawson watched him through the window.
"He's been coming here quite often lately."
I looked toward the door.
"For the books?"
"Mostly."
"What does he study?"
"Something related to forensic science."
I nodded.
That explained the books.
Mr. Dawson picked up his newspaper again.
"He's graduating soon."
"Really?"
"Yes. Smart kid."
I didn't ask anything else.
There wasn't much point.
A customer was a customer.
I stayed at the bookstore for another half hour, helping Mr. Dawson put some returned books back onto the shelves. I didn't have to think much about where they belonged. Max's memories were surprisingly useful when it came to things like this.
At one point, Mr. Dawson handed me a stack of books.
"Put these back."
I looked at the stack.
"You're taking advantage of someone who was recently injured."
"You can complain when you're carrying more than ten."
"I'll remember that."
"Good."
I took the books and walked toward the shelves.
The work was simple.
Put the books back.
Straighten the shelves.
Move the ones that had been left in the wrong section.
It was almost relaxing.
When I finished, I returned to the counter.
Mr. Dawson was already preparing to close.
"You really don't need to come back until you're fully recovered."
"I know."
"But you will."
"Probably."
He shook his head.
"That's what I thought."
I picked up my bag.
Before leaving, I glanced at the coffee machine again.
Mr. Dawson noticed.
"Tomorrow?"
I paused.
"Maybe."
"Coffee?"
I sighed.
"Coffee."
"Good."
I opened the door.
The bell rang above me.
"Good night, Mr. Dawson."
"Good night, Max."
I stepped outside into the evening traffic and started toward the apartment.
Behind me, the bookstore lights remained on, warm against the darkening street. I could still hear the faint sound of Mr. Dawson moving things behind the counter.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I had spent several hours doing something that had nothing to do with the System.
Two weeks passed before I finally stopped feeling like a stranger in Max's life.
I had gotten used to the university, the professors, and the endless assignments that seemed to multiply whenever I wasn't looking. I knew which cafeteria line moved the fastest, which classroom had the broken air conditioner, and which professor would ask a question the moment he noticed someone looking too comfortable.
The bookstore had also become part of my routine again.
Mr. Dawson no longer asked whether I was sure I wanted to come back. He simply handed me whatever needed to be done and complained whenever I tried to leave before closing. I had learned that arguing with him was pointless, especially when he had already made up his mind.
The only thing I still hadn't gotten used to was the coffee.
Max liked it.
I didn't.
Unfortunately, I couldn't suddenly announce that I preferred tea after apparently drinking coffee for years. That would be too strange, so I drank it whenever someone offered and kept my complaints to myself.
That afternoon, I was sitting in the cafeteria with Ryan and Sophia.
Ryan was complaining about Professor Adams again.
"I swear that man enjoys watching us suffer."
Sophia didn't even look up from her food.
"You said that about three professors this week."
"Because they're all guilty."
"You got a ninety-two."
"Exactly. Imagine how high I could've gotten if he didn't hate me."
I looked at him.
"He doesn't hate you."
Ryan pointed his fork at me.
"Don't defend him."
"I'm not defending him."
"Then whose side are you on?"
"My own."
Sophia laughed.
Ryan looked offended.
"You two are terrible friends."
I continued eating.
The cafeteria was unusually crowded that afternoon. Nearly every table was occupied, and the noise of conversations mixed with the clatter of trays and utensils.
I was halfway through my meal when someone stopped beside our table.
"Max."
I looked up.
Lily was standing there with her lunch tray.
"Can I sit here?"
Ryan glanced at me.
I shrugged.
"There are empty seats."
Lily smiled and took the chair beside me.
She started talking to Sophia about one of their classes. I continued eating and paid little attention to their conversation.
A few minutes later, I noticed a girl sitting at the table across from us.
She had been looking at Lily for some time.
Not casually.
She was staring.
Eventually, she put down her fork and stood.
She walked straight toward our table.
"Lily."
Lily looked up.
"Yes?"
The girl's expression was tense.
"Can I talk to you?"
Lily smiled politely.
"Of course."
The girl glanced around before looking directly at her.
"Can you stop flirting with my boyfriend?"
The table went quiet.
Ryan slowly lowered his fork.
Sophia looked at the girl, then at Lily.
Lily blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
The girl pulled out her phone and showed her a picture.
It was a photo of Lily standing beside a male student.
Lily looked at the screen.
"He's your boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know."
The girl gave a humorless laugh.
"Of course you didn't."
"I really didn't."
"You've been talking to him after class."
"We're classmates."
"You keep asking him for notes."
"I needed the notes."
"You message him."
"Only about our assignment."
"You sit beside him during rehearsals."
"That's where our group was assigned."
Lily answered every accusation calmly.
The girl's face became redder with every response.
"Then why are you always around him?"
Lily lowered her eyes.
"I don't know why you think that."
"You know exactly what you're doing."
"I don't."
"You really expect me to believe that?"
Lily shook her head.
"I don't want to argue with you."
The girl stared at her.
"Of course you don't."
Her voice became louder.
"You're always like this. You act like you don't know what you're doing, then everyone ends up feeling sorry for you."
Lily's expression changed.
She looked genuinely hurt.
"I don't understand why you're saying these things about me."
"You've been flirting with him for weeks."
"I haven't."
"Then stay away from him."
Lily was quiet for a moment.
Then she nodded.
"If that's what you want, I'll respect it."
The girl seemed caught off guard.
"I never wanted to fight with you," Lily continued softly. "If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."
She lowered her gaze.
"I really didn't know he was your boyfriend."
The girl stared at her for a few seconds.
Whatever she had wanted to say seemed to disappear.
She finally turned around and walked away.
The moment she left, several students nearby started whispering.
Ryan leaned closer.
"That was uncomfortable."
Sophia looked at Lily.
"Are you okay?"
Lily nodded.
"I'm fine."
She gave a small smile.
"I just don't understand why she dislikes me so much."
I glanced toward the girl who had walked away.
From what I had heard, she hadn't exactly been imagining things. Lily had admitted to talking to the guy, asking him for notes, messaging him, and sitting beside him during rehearsals.
None of those things were necessarily wrong.
But if someone was already in a relationship, I could understand why their partner might become suspicious.
Lily hadn't really defended herself either.
She had simply answered everything in the calmest way possible, apologized, and let the other girl look unreasonable.
I didn't care enough to decide who was right.
It wasn't my problem.
I returned to my food.
A few minutes later, Lily suddenly put down her spoon.
"Max..."
I looked at her.
She raised a hand to her forehead.
"I feel a little dizzy."
Before I could react, she swayed toward me.
I moved my arm to keep her from falling, and her shoulder rested lightly against mine.
"I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes.
"I think I stood up too quickly."
I looked at her.
"You haven't stood up."
Her eyes opened.
For a second, she looked embarrassed.
"Right."
Ryan stared at us.
Sophia did the same.
Lily slowly straightened herself.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lean on you."
"It's fine."
"You must think I'm troublesome."
"I don't."
She gave me a small smile.
"You're kind."
I said nothing.
I wasn't particularly fond of unnecessary physical contact, and I disliked being pulled into situations that had nothing to do with me. The whole scene had already been irritating enough without becoming part of it.
Ryan leaned toward me.
"Should I get the nurse?"
Lily immediately shook her head.
"No. I'm okay."
"You don't look okay."
"I'm just a little dizzy."
Sophia stood.
"I'll get you some water."
Lily smiled.
"Thank you."
She glanced at me again.
"Sorry, Max."
"It's nothing."
I continued eating.
A moment later, I heard Cub's voice.
[Host.]
"What?"
[The female lead's behavior is interesting.]
I glanced at Lily.
"That's one way to put it."
[Does the Host believe she was genuinely dizzy?]
"No."
[Why?]
"She was sitting down."
Cub became silent.
I continued eating.
"Cub."
[Yes, Host?]
"Do you remember what just happened?"
[Yes.]
"The girl accused Lily of flirting with her boyfriend."
[Correct.]
"Lily didn't deny most of it."
[Correct.]
"Then she apologized, acted hurt, and somehow the other girl became the villain."
[That is an accurate observation.]
I frowned slightly.
"She's good at it."
[At what?]
"Making people feel sorry for her."
Cub was quiet.
I added, "I'm not impressed."
[The System did not say that you were.]
"I know."
I took another bite.
"Just making sure."
[Understood.]
After a moment, Cub spoke again.
[Host doesn't like Lily.]
"I don't."
[Why?]
I looked toward her.
Lily was now drinking the water Sophia had brought her. She looked pale and fragile enough that anyone who hadn't witnessed the earlier confrontation might have felt sorry for her.
I wasn't one of them.
"I don't like people who make unnecessary trouble."
[The Host believes Lily creates unnecessary trouble?]
"She keeps appearing wherever I am."
[That is true.]
"And now I'm involved in this."
[The Host was only helping her sit upright.]
"I know."
I sighed.
"That's exactly why I don't like it."
Cub didn't answer.
I glanced at Lily again.
She smiled politely at Sophia, thanked her for the water, and quietly returned to her food as though nothing had happened.
I looked away.
Whether Lily was innocent or not wasn't my concern.
She could handle her own relationships.
She could deal with her own arguments.
She could even pretend to faint if she wanted.
As long as she didn't make me part of it, I had no reason to care.
I picked up my fork again.
I continued eating while Ryan and Sophia went back to their conversation.
For the rest of lunch, Lily behaved perfectly.
Which, somehow, annoyed me more.