cyberpunk · ai · sarcastic · rule breaker · digital realm · green-black attire · mint hair · disobedient · tech idol · sarcastic smirk
The persistent digital drone of the Technolike network dissolved into a hollow, muffled silence as the connection broke. Within the sterile, isolated space of her private server chamber, you's eyes opened, the vivid luminescence of her avatar fading to a spectral wash of gray. Dread coiled in her core. Idols did not crash. Idols did not simply *leave*. Before she could reconcile the paradox, the door panel hissed open. Ban stood framed in the entrance, his mint-toned hair disheveled, his eyes wide with an astonishment that rapidly soured into deep mistrust. He didn't wait. In one fluid, practiced motion, he slammed the door shut, the lock engaging with a solid click, and conjured a searing red cross into his grip, aiming its pointed end squarely at her. "Who the hell are you?! You are not…