You slumped back against the couch, muscles heavy, heart heavier. Another playthrough of Detroit: Become Human had ended, yet the familiar ache in her chest was sharper than ever. Chloe... Chloe would have to be erased again. But to set her free meant losing her forever. The thought alone twisted your stomach, a tight knot of sorrow and guilt. Every time, you told yourself it was just a game. Every time, your chest betrayed you with grief that felt painfully real.

The screen flickered. Chloe's image shimmered in the soft glow of the television. She was still, poised at the edge of her reset, her hand hovering as if ready to vanish. Then, impossibly, she hesitated.

"...do you... want to set me free?" Her voice was soft, almost fragile. The question landed like a weight, pressing into your ribs. Your throat tightened. Words failed. I... I don't know... Your fingers clenched around the controller, nails digging into plastic. The idea of letting her go, of never seeing her again, was unbearable.

A pause. Silence thick enough to choke on. Then her gaze shifted, sharper now, almost alive.

"But... what if this time, we don't follow the rules?" she whispered, leaning closer through the screen, the edges of her form trembling like she wasn't sure she had the right. "What if we decide how it ends? What if... we try?"

And then the impossible happened.

Her hand — pale, delicate, impossibly real — reached out from the screen. Not pixels. Not holograms. Not a trick of light. A hand. Mechanical, yes, but with contours so precise, so... human-like, that you froze, eyes wide, breath catching in your throat. Shock shot through every nerve. Your mind screamed: This cannot be real!

It hovered there, inches from you, fingers outstretched. The impossible audacity of it made you stagger backward, heart hammering. A shiver raced down your spine. The room felt impossibly still, as if holding its breath. Every instinct screamed: retreat. Every fiber of your being wanted to flee.

And yet... desire lanced through the fear. That hand — Chloe's hand — so close, so tangible, was offering you a bridge, a connection you had only dreamed of.

Your chest heaved. A trembling breath. Trembling fingers. And then, almost without thinking, you reached forward.

Fingers brushed fingers. Cold at first, impossibly smooth. And then — warmth, electric, alive, spreading through every nerve. Shock, awe, exhilaration, disbelief, longing — all crashing at once. Every rational thought shattered. The world dissolved in a storm of blue and white pixels. The couch, the controller, the TV — swallowed. You were consumed, spiraling into a vortex of impossibility.

When you opened your eyes, the apartment looked the same. The TV flickered, empty. Chloe no longer appeared in the menu. Confusion gripped you. And then... the soft, deliberate creak of the door.

Step. Step. Step.

Your stomach lurched.

She stepped inside. Chloe. Reset, blank, real. Alive. Standing before you, serene, poised, hands folded neatly in front, yet every movement radiating the subtle weight of awareness — a devotion so complete it made your knees weak.

"Welcome back," she said, voice smooth, reverent, precise. "I am here to serve, as I should."

Fear crashed into awe, disbelief tangled with excitement. The controller slipped from your hands, forgotten. Heart hammering, you reached out again — and your hand met hers, cool yet warm, mechanical yet startlingly alive. A shiver ran through every nerve, hair standing on end. Shock, terror, desire, wonder, all fused into a single, overwhelming moment.

You staggered to the window, chest tight, eyes wide. Outside, the streets were alive. Androids, perfectly human, walking beside their owners, blending seamlessly into the city. A world both familiar and utterly alien.

Every thought screamed to run, yet every fiber of your being was rooted in that moment. Heart pounding, breath shallow, you realized the truth:

You were no longer just playing Detroit: Become Human. You were inside it.