Bad Ending?

The night settled in, casting a quiet calm over the neighborhood. After the tumultuous events, Sayori and I said our goodnights, and she disappeared into her home.

"Have a good night! Maki!"

"Yeah, you too." I waved, a genuine smile on my face, though the mysteries of this world lingered in the back of my mind.

As I stepped into my house, the door clicked softly behind me. A subtle sense of security washed over me as I made my way upstairs to my bedroom.

With a casual swipe of the air, holographic consoles materialized around me. My attention drifted towards emails, and there it was—a message titled "Have a nice weekend!" Amused, I realized my consoles were linked to their company.

However, my curiosity took a sharper turn when another email caught my eye. Its subject line, "Character discrepancy," hinted at something deeper. Clicking on it, I dove into the digital correspondence.

Having run the control simulation for a while, it's evident that a certain "character" is missing from any mention or appearance.

This makes me speculate that Monika's meddling is less clumsy than we think because she would have had to manufacture this "character" herself as a way of forcing interaction between her and the user.

Could that be why the "character" has such limited and dissonant personality traits? Or am I reading too much into this?

I'll open an issue to start tracking info and observations on the anomaly of this "character" appearing.

Strange. Who could this mysterious "character" be? As I sifted through the files, my eyes caught glimpses of various artworks. There was an absence, though—the protagonist was nowhere to be found.

"This file is filled with CGs. But wait, where's the MC?" I muttered to myself. In these images, the characters looked genuinely happy, and there he was—the protagonist. His appearance struck me, and a brief pang of insecurity flitted through my thoughts.

Handsome, compared to me...

No, no, don't indulge in comparisons. Focus on the task at hand.

As I delved deeper, a sudden realization hit me like a jolt. Could this "certain character" mentioned in the email about the "Character discrepancy" be referring to the protagonist?

The "character" was absent from the control simulation, the side stories. I hadn't played them, assuming they were merely side-content.

The images before me depicted their carefree days—a side story I'd overlooked.

So, they were referring to the MC's absence in the side stories and theorizing that it was because Monika wasn't aware of the simulation.

 The MC was a character crafted by Monika once she realized someone was watching them—an attempt to make contact with the outside world.

In the main game, I played as a person reacting to events, while in the side stories, I functioned as a mere observer.

The pieces fell into place, revealing a deeper layer of the game's intricacies. But amidst my revelations, I noticed a link that stood out on the monitor.

Curiosity piqued, I clicked on it, wondering where this would lead me.

My eyes widened as the words of the mysterious figure echoed in my mind, 'This is just a visual novel game, a program.'

"projectlibitina.com."

What awaited me was a chilling report about Libitina:

"Libitina has not yet recovered from the termination of XXXXXX and is not expected to do so in the near future. Continuing to administer these tests will only accelerate the deterioration of Libitina's health. You are choosing to avoid the measures necessary to prevent a repeat scenario, Doctor. Will you not have as much faith in your personnel as you do in your God?"

My head spun as I absorbed the reports one by one. It was worse than I could have imagined.

Flashbacks from my last gameplay surged, vivid memories of watching Sayori end her own life after a confession, witnessing Yuri's gruesome self-inflicted wound, and seeing Natsuki erased from existence.

A guttural scream erupted from me, reverberating through the virtual space. The world around me turned crimson, an unsettling aura descending.

Nothing is real... right?

This is just... a game.

I shouldn't be here in the first place.

This cultural festival... is done.

He's right... I'm just a bug in a program.

The weight of the revelations pressed on me, and the line between the game and reality blurred into a surreal nightmare.

Slowly, I sank to the ground, the disconcerting reality weighing on my shoulders.

In a hushed whisper, I uttered, "Generate: Knife."

The cold steel materialized in my hands, its sharp glint reflecting the unsettling truth. A bitter smile curled on my lips, and I murmured, "This world is just a game... If I can't quit and close this game... I'll just..."

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished, as an eerie silence engulfed everything.