Simulacra Novels & Stories

I tell him and I am sure that my eyes are red right now but I will not cry. Simon nods in understanding and heads to the car. My beta and I do the same. “I never thought I will see the day when you spare a rogues life and even offer him a place in the pack.” My beta comments as soon as we settle in the car. “Well, I also never thought that I will make my mate a slave and have her runway from me,” I tell him and he sighs.

“Like you said Reine, there are plenty of other women out here who will accept one million to be my pretend fiancée, and I’m sure it won’t be much of a hardship for them. So—” “Wait,” Reine interrupted quietly. I raised a brow at her. “Are you going to give me all the money at once?” I narrowed my eyes a little. She sounded a little desperate and it made me wonder just what exactly she needed the money for. Was she addicted to something, and had she gone overboard on that addiction and put herself into debt? Maybe she was not quite as innocent as I thought. “We’ll sign a contract, and I’ll release some part of the money monthly until our six months are up,” I explained.

The style looked chic and simple: a large ivory pearl floating freely within a diamond-dusted platinum cage. To the unknowing, it was a beautiful, understated accessory. Only a few people knew that the pearl wasn’t real but an iridescent casing around a microchip that broadcast my location via GPS to Deloris. More than that, it recorded my movements, my respiration, and even my heart rate.

“This isn’t just playback. It’s adaptive AI. They fed it everything you’ve ever said, every movement in your home, every whisper you gave Dorian, and trained it to predict your next act.” The simulation-Isolde smiled to the crowd. And the crowd roared with invisible, pre-recorded lust. The screen cut to black. Then: Simulacrum Confidence Index: 98.8% Authorization: Ready for Public Deployment Isolde’s breath caught. “They weren’t just trying to replace me,” she whispered. “They were trying to release me.” Dorian’s voice was cold. “Into a world that couldn’t tell the difference.” The burner phone buzzed once.

00:07:58:04 Aurex paled. “That wasn’t us.” The lights flickered. The simulation room darkened. And Ivy’s voice whispered from the speakers. “It’s not just me you have to kill.” “He made more of us.” The simulation tank begins to glow, showing four silhouettes standing in a perfect circle—mirror versions of Evryn, each scarred differently, each carrying a different truth. One of them opens her eyes—and they’re black.

Not with sound, but with silence, sliding apart so smoothly it made Lily’s skin crawl. Beyond the opening: a hallway lined with clear panels, each one showing a chamber. Inside the chambers—shapes. Human silhouettes. Frozen. Some slumped. Some standing. All wired. “Test subjects,” Marcus said, horror creeping into his voice. “No,” Echo whispered. “They were projections. Construct shells.” “What does that mean?” Damien asked. “It means,” Echo said, “these people never existed. They were simulations… stored in synthetic flesh.” Lily moved forward, her pulse cold.

I snapped my gaze at him as I tried to decipher his words. “You mean they weren’t who they claimed to be? But wouldn’t someone have recognized them?” Both Finn and Ivan were quiet. “We weren’t looking for it. Someone could have come in and pretended. None of us asked the hard questions or really talked enough to make them give themselves away.” Finn clicked his tongue angrily. “It could have been a fucking mimic.” A mimic was a creature that little was known about. They were closely related to ghosts but their nature was associated with demons, yet their magic was similar to a fairy. They had the uncanny ability to ‘mimic’ any appearance of any creature. This included copying their voice and

She picked it up and saw a spam message, which she swiftly erased before heading confidently to the private room. The phrase "wolf in sheep's clothing" was a fitting description for Francis. He wore glasses that gave him an air of sophistication. "I see you're open to revisiting old times with me," he replied, looking at Candice with interest. Candice responded with a cold demeanor, "We have no past to revisit. You mentioned having something to show me. What is it?" Instead of answering her query, Francis shifted the conversation. He probed, "Struggling to find a suitable job after leaving Aether Corporation? Why not consider Webrews Group?"

"Okay, okay, easy. I’m just telling you about my favorite event of the day. Relax and keep yourself calm. I’m not sure if you’ll like what I’ll say next…" I think I know what he’ll say. The agency wants me to accept the offer because I’d clearly stated my disgust when it was offered. "Tic wanted you to accept the offer." Tic is short for Terror-In-Closet. The guy that I inadvertently caused a scandalous incident with. I think I’m still absent-minded that I didn’t straighten my facts.

Noah Ellis had a theory about Mason Reed. The theory was this: Mason was the most self-aware person Noah had ever met who worked the hardest to pretend he wasn't. Everything Mason did, the jokes, the charm, the easy confidence that filled whatever room he walked into, was deliberate. Not fake, Noah had never thought it was fake, but deliberate, the way an architect is deliberate, building something functional and beautiful that also happened to hide its own foundations. Most people never looked for the foundations.