Micah stared at the boy on the hospital bed, his eyes blazing with a mixture of disbelief and rising fury. The soft monitor lights cast pale reflections across Noas's still face, making him look even younger than the twenty years old the system had claimed.
According to their talk, the original Noas had probably died and another soul had occupied his body.
Micah felt sad. His fingers curled into a trembling fist against the glass window. He remembered the boy he had seen at the shooting club …. He was quiet, awkward, smiling too politely as if afraid to offend others. In short, he had seemed like a simple, decent guy. Why should he die to let these jerks occupy his body? Why were these hosts and systems treating their world like some endless game board?
Micah swallowed hard, his throat burning as the realisation sank deeper.
