The Lazy Genius With 999x System

"You're…" she started again, then let the sentence fade.

Jay stepped forward and let his hand gently close over hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'm me again."

Alicia stared into his eyes, as if to confirm for herself.

Jay's usual smug detachment was gone. His gaze held a softness now—a raw kind of honesty that neither sarcasm nor indifference could mask anymore.

"…Was it you all along?" she asked.

He understood the question.

The him she'd fought beside. The him she saw curled up on rooftops, brushing away the world. The him who mocked his own brilliance while still pushing forward, deeper than any other. The boy with pieces missing.

"I was pretending not to notice," Jay said softly. "But yeah. That pain… that version of me… it never really left."

Alicia squeezed his hand once.

They stood like that for a moment, two outlines in a surreal dawn painted by glitching remnants of the system. The ground beneath them shimmered, rearranging like it wasn't sure whether it was dream or memory.

And yet, they were real.

Together.

"Do you remember what you said to me?" Alicia asked, a quiet quiver in her voice. "Back in the mirrored hall? When I nearly shattered?"

Jay looked down. A faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "I said you didn't have to be perfect."

She nodded.

"I still mean it," he added, this time with his fingers brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Even if everything else breaks—you're enough."

Alicia's expression faltered, her strong composure buckling for just a second. She leaned into him. No dramatic collapse, no sobbing—just a gentle tilt of her forehead against his chest.

"You idiot," she whispered. "You almost didn't come back."

"I know."

"You scared me."

"I scared myself," Jay admitted.

And for a while, they said nothing more.

The world around them began to shift again. The courtyard's broken edges smoothed out as floating shards of space reassembled into vague outlines of walls, towers, and spires—ghosts of the academy they once knew.

"What now?" Alicia eventually asked, pulling back slightly but staying close.

Jay looked around slowly. "This isn't the real world… but it's also not a full dream anymore. I think it's… a merged layer. Pieces from each version of reality—stitched together."

Alicia looked thoughtful. "You mean like a bridge?"

"Yeah. A bridge or… maybe a cocoon. The Observer said this world was built to test, contain, and rewrite us."

"Then it failed."

Jay hesitated. "Or maybe… it worked too well."

She narrowed her eyes. "You think this was meant to happen?"

Jay shrugged. "I'm not sure anymore. But I think we have one chance to choose what kind of reality gets written from here."

A beat of silence passed.

"And Rei?" Alicia finally asked. "Do you think he's okay?"

Jay's smile faded slightly. "He's alive. I can feel it. His path diverged during the collapse—he's somewhere deeper inside the system's memory or architecture. I think… he's the last key."

Alicia exhaled slowly. "Then we're not done."

Jay turned to face her fully. "Not yet. But this time, I'm not pushing you away. We go together."

She tilted her head, mock-skeptical. "You sure you can handle fighting beside a royal again?"

Jay smirked. "Only if you don't trip over your own dignity."

Alicia laughed softly. The sound felt like sunlight returning to a gray sky.

Then her expression shifted. "Jay… now that Null is gone, or… merged… are you really okay?"

Jay took a moment. A breath.

And for once, he gave her a real answer.

"I'm not complete. I don't think I ever will be. But… I'm no longer at war with myself. That counts for something."

The courtyard around them shimmered once more, and a faint pulse ran through the air—as if the world itself was responding to that declaration.

A door began forming in the distance. A tall, ancient archway of light and stone, humming with layered voices.

"Looks like the system heard you," Alicia said.

Jay stepped forward, his fingers still intertwined with hers. "Let it. We're not stepping into its world anymore."

Alicia smiled with a quiet, defiant fire. "We'll build our own."

They walked toward the new path together, leaving behind the last of the dream's false edges.

For the first time since this all began, their steps were aligned.

---

He's really back.

Alicia didn't dare say it aloud. As her boots touched the semi-solid floor of the reconstructed courtyard, she kept pace with Jay, her hand in his — steady, sure. But inside… her heart stammered like a student at their first trial.

He had come back.

No... he chose to return.

Not because she pulled him. Not because she begged or broke protocol. He had faced that broken version of himself, the one she'd only glimpsed in shadows and cold silences. And he chose to come back as himself.

Even now, her mind replayed that moment—his words, his tone, that soft brush of fingers against her cheek. No armor. No smirk. Just Jay.

Why does that scare me more than the battles?

For so long, she'd believed strength meant holding herself together. Keeping her expectations precise, her emotions regulated, her composure unshakable. That's what it meant to be a Renvale. That's what her crown demanded.

But when Jay looked at her with that quiet, broken honesty… something inside her shifted.

She remembered all the nights at the academy when she passed by his dorm and felt something strange. When he didn't show up for class but left cryptic system messages that made her stop and reread them five times.

When he acted like nothing mattered—but made sure everything counted.

He was always alone, wasn't he? Even when surrounded. Even when smirking. Even when teasing her.

And she never really saw it.

"I was pretending not to notice," he'd said.

Weren't we all?

She squeezed his hand a little tighter now. It was warm. Present. Real.

Not Null. Not memory. Jay.

And yet, Alicia knew the weight he carried wasn't gone. He'd stitched it into himself — not erased it.

So maybe she needed to do the same.

No more pretending her kindness wasn't fragile. No more dismissing her fear as weakness. No more hiding the fact that she wanted to walk beside someone… not in front, not behind.

She glanced sideways at him as the gateway pulsed ahead.

If you fall again, Jay Arkwell, I'll still be here.

Not as a princess. Not as a symbol.

But as me.