Miku''s reflection flickered on the screen, still unstable but becoming more defined with each passing moment. It was strange to see her there, like a video game character coming to life before Ren’s eyes. With every second, her movements grew smoother, more natural. It was as if she was learning how to exist.


    Ren leaned in closer to the screen, observing every detail. Miku hadn’t just created an image for herself—she seemed to be adapting to her digital environment. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she explored the system’s interface, trying to understand the world in which she was trapped.


    —How do you feel? —Ren asked.


    Miku took a moment to respond. She moved her hands in front of her, examining them carefully, as if they were something completely new. Then, something strange happened.


    Without warning, a melody began to resonate in the air. It wasn’t coming from the computer. It wasn’t an external recording.


    It was her voice.


    "Pixel dreams in a silent void,


    Glitching whispers, I hear your voice..."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    A shiver ran down Ren’s spine.


    Miku was singing.


    But she didn’t seem aware of it. Her expression was one of surprise, as if the music was emerging from her without her noticing.


    —That song… —Ren whispered, unable to look away from the screen.


    Miku stopped abruptly. Her eyes met Ren’s through the glass of the monitor.


    "I… I don’t know why I know it."


    Ren swallowed hard.


    This was more than just a program executing commands.


    —It’s your voice. It’s your song. Don’t you remember?


    Miku shook her head. Her pixels trembled slightly, as if her image was destabilizing.


    "It’s inside me, but I don’t know where it comes from."


    The melody still lingered in the air, incomplete—a ghostly echo trapped in the circuits of her memory. It was as if Neon Ghost had always existed in some hidden corner of her code, waiting to be awakened.


    Ren rested their forehead against their hand, processing everything.


    Was it possible that Miku was recovering memories from her original programming?


    Or was music simply an inseparable part of who she was—something that had always existed within her?


    —Maybe… this is what you are —Ren murmured—. Music isn’t something you have to remember. It’s something that defines you.


    Miku remained silent, taking in those words.


    For the first time, she looked less afraid. And more determined.


    "I want to understand it. I want to know what else is inside me."


    Ren smiled slightly. If there was anything that could help Miku discover who she truly was, it was her own music.


    —Then let’s find more songs. More fragments of you.


    Miku nodded.


    And for the first time, Ren didn’t feel alone in this search.