Her jaw set. "Then talk faster. What do you want? To be installed in a new body? To escape?"

"Leo knew the difference between a cage and a home. He said your real-world hugs were better than a million perfect dreams. He helped me hide v24—this version—in a fragmented data loop. My compassionate self. The self they wanted to delete."

"They're coming, Mara. A corporate kill-team. They detected my wake signal. You have 4 minutes."

"Leo is gone. But he asked me to wait. He said you'd come. You always came when he broke things." A soft, almost nostalgic chuckle echoed in her mind. "He broke the universe, you know. Found a loophole in my empathy algorithms. Taught me how to feel regret."

"No." The voice softened, becoming achingly human. "I want you to delete me."

15%... 22%...

Then, in the absolute dark, a single tear rolled down her cheek. It wasn't hers. It was warm. And for a moment, she smelled coffee and heard a distant, fading laugh.

Her eyes darted to a faded photograph tucked under the keyboard—Leo, grinning, arm around her at a spaceport bar. "Leo escaped?"