Cogito Ergo Sum Game 소설 & 이야기

I ask Archer. “It’s not an easy thing to bring up.” I turn my head down, carefully considering my words. “We’re having a baby together, Archer. There’s going to be a lot of things that aren’t easy.” Watching his face, I debate on whether to go on or not. The words are there, wanting to come out and be confessed. I bring my hand to his chest, rubbing the hem of his collar between my fingers. “Do you remember when I said it felt like you were playing a game with me?”

"You're last in the class, so why are you wasting paper on a notebook?" "Drop out. You don't deserve to be here." I frowned. What on earth was going on? … After several attempts, I confirmed that though I could hear the ghosts' inner thoughts, I couldn't directly ask them for the game's solution. Whenever I brought up anything related to the game's content, the ghosts would go completely blank as if someone had unplugged their senses. It seemed that if I wanted to end the game, I'd have to do it on my own.

That it was all just to keep the track of the path that it should be and nothing else but that. Just how damn, b***s***! Yet, he needed to calm himself down, think twice and reason everything out. For she is correct, no matter what he will think or how should this entire fact falls and be. As everything is just a game, a game that they needed to be playing alongside the real player, as they are nothing, but the game’s pieces. “The philosopher’s stone. Alchemy. Tsk!”

These were what flashed in his head like he was being programmed and without a second thought, he grabbed a flower vase and smashed it on her head. “Arrgh!” Alessia screamed in pain as the base destroyed completely, its flowers falling down in bits. Immediately, the doorbell rang and he spared her a last glance, watching her groan in pain before leaving the room. It was like he was being brainwashed because desperation pushed out some actions he couldn't control. He descended the stairs with long strides and getting to the main door in the sitting room, he opened the door to see a delivery girl. Earlier, he had ordered food for both him and his fiancée.

--- The Summoning The night before they were supposed to return to school, each of them received an identical message—not through a letter, or a mirror, but in their dreams. A voice echoed in their minds: "Return to the school. The game has chosen its next player." They all woke up in a cold sweat, realizing the same thing— The Reflection Game wasn’t over. And someone else was about to be dragged into it. Who? And more importantly… Would they be able to save them before it was too late? --- The Game Resumes

At last, my fingers flew across the screen, sending a message into the night. Staring at the white walls above me, a sudden flash of clarity swept through my mind. It was as if a weight had lifted. Born into a family like mine, with a father like him, I had always tried to save as many people as I could. What more could I expect in return? Maybe I was simply born to pay back the Chandlers.

Therefore, it was proof that no one else could possibly own it. Using another account, I posted again: "Admin Blake, this is me, the girl everyone flamed online as a gold-digger. I’m exposing my ex-boyfriend, Ryan Cooper, as the real leech. He used my family card to buy gifts for my roommate. The bracelet on the stray dog’s paw was his. I bought it for him myself. It's a limited edition. No one else could possibly own it." Screenshots of the family card charges and the purchase record were attached.

It was never about the money; it was about the message. Jay, through Leo's increasingly sophisticated counter-intelligence AI (codenamed "Cerberus"), began to anticipate the moves. They developed a strange, adversarial symbiosis. Sometimes, Jay would even leave a digital door slightly ajar, a challenge: Can you get in here? The Librarian usually could. They were playing a game of multidimensional chess, and the prize was not territory, but intellectual supremacy.

“Obviously.” “Don’t make it sound like it’s nothing. That’s insane, Theo.” “It’s necessary,” he corrects. “You don’t go into a game like this blind.” Game. Right. This is a game. Doesn’t matter if I don’t want to acknowledge it as one. I swallow and finally step closer, dropping my bag on his chair. Up close, it’s worse. There’s a column labeled PATTERNS. Another labeled TRIGGERS. And right at the bottom, underlined twice was BOREDOM = DISENGAGEMENT.

They must've assumed these arguments make sense because I was silently standing there, making it appear as if I'd been listening, and I knew I wouldn't be able to pretend I hadn't. I put my hands over my ears, but could still detect certain words. I longed to go out of the house but forced myself to remain seated still. "You don't get it!" "I hate this life!" "You children are just a burden I can't abandon!" "I told you to listen to me…" I pressed my hands harder into my ears. Trapped there, with my eyes closed, I could almost see the words as illuminated streaks floating in the air. The noise made me realize that's their only one solution that I could think of: To play a morality game, a ga