The light no longer felt like light.
It pressed.
Pulled.
Tore apart the boundary between body and consciousness, until Lica was no longer sure whether she still "existed" or was merely a thought thrown between possibilities.
Voices emerged—not from outside, but from within herself.
Fragments of memory.
Fragments of feeling.
Fragments… of herself.
Then—
Silence.
⸻
Lica fell.
Not physically, but as if she were thrown into a reality that suddenly became solid. Her knees hit a hard surface, her breath gasping as if she had just emerged from underwater.
She slowly opened her eyes.
The sky above her… was different.
Not the sky of Neo-Jakarta. No holographic light lines, no flying vehicles, no constant hum of machines.
This sky… was blue.
A deep blue. Vast. Alive.
Lica froze.
How long had it been since she had seen a sky like this?
⸻
She slowly stood.
Around her stretched a city—or more precisely, a growing village. The buildings were not too tall. Many trees. The streets were still filled with people, not automated systems.
And the strangest thing—
People were talking to each other.
Directly.
Without intermediaries.
Without digital interfaces.
⸻
Lica walked slowly, trying to absorb everything she saw.
A man laughed freely by the roadside. Two small children ran, chasing each other. A woman carried a basket of fruit while chatting with her neighbor.
Everything looked… imperfect.
But that was exactly what made it feel real.
⸻
"This is a world that's… different," she murmured.
"Correct," the system's voice answered in her head.
Lica had almost forgotten the system was still active.
"Status?"
"Identity synchronization: partial."
Lica frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"You are able to interact with the environment. However, your existence data is not fully integrated."
"So I… exist, but not entirely?"
"Approximate definition."
⸻
Lica took a deep breath.
At least this time she could touch something.
She reached out to the trunk of a nearby tree. Her fingers felt the rough texture of the bark.
Real.
Warm.
Not like the illusion in the previous world.
⸻
Her steps carried her deeper into the town.
But the longer she walked, something began to feel… strange.
People did not avoid her. Nor did they bump into her. But—
No one truly saw her.
Their gazes always passed through her. Their smiles were never meant for her.
As if she was there…
But not part of it.
⸻
That feeling returned.
The same feeling she had when she stood in front of her own house—yet could not enter.
⸻
Lica stopped at a small market.
The smell of food filled the air. Spices, warm bread, fresh fruit. Everything was so strong it almost made her dizzy.
She approached a stall.
"Excuse me," she said to the vendor.
The woman did not respond.
Lica tried again, a bit louder.
"Excuse me?"
The woman continued serving other customers, without the slightest awareness of Lica's presence.
⸻
Lica stepped back slowly.
"Why…" she whispered.
"Analysis: your presence is not registered within the local social network."
"So they can't see me?"
"Not that they cannot see you. More precisely—they do not recognize you."
⸻
Lica clenched her teeth.
"What's the difference?"
"Visually, you are present. However, their brains do not process you as a relevant entity."
⸻
The statement felt cold.
Irrelevant.
⸻
Lica walked away from the market, her steps growing faster.
She didn't want to be in a crowd that did not acknowledge her.
She didn't want to be a shadow again.
⸻
Until—
"Hey, wait!"
A voice called out to her.
Lica froze.
Slowly, she turned.
A man stood a few meters behind her. He looked to be in his late twenties. Slightly messy hair, simple clothes.
And most surprising of all—
He was looking directly at Lica.
"Yes?" Lica replied, hesitant.
The man stepped closer.
"You're… new here, right?"
Lica did not answer immediately.
Her heart began to beat faster.
He… can see me.
"I…" Lica hesitated.
"Yeah. You could say that."
The man gave a small smile.
"It shows. You walk like someone who's looking for something."
Lica fell silent.
The sentence felt too accurate.
⸻
"My name's Raka," he said, extending his hand.
Lica looked at his hand for a few seconds.
Then—
She took it.
The touch was real.
Warm.
⸻
"Lica," she replied softly.
⸻
They walked together without a clear destination.
Or at least, Lica didn't know where they were going. But for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the need to know.
⸻
"Where do you live?" Raka asked.
Lica went silent.
A simple question.
But the answer… didn't exist.
"I… don't have a place yet."
Raka nodded, as if that was normal.
"In that case, you can come with me for now. My house isn't big, but it's enough."
⸻
That word.
Home.
Lica felt it as something both distant and close at the same time.
⸻
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
Raka shrugged.
"Because you look alone."
Lica looked at him.
That's it?
No other reason?
⸻
"Here," Raka continued,
"people don't need a big reason to care."
⸻
That sentence stirred something inside Lica.
Something that had long been still.
⸻
They arrived at a small house on the edge of town.
Not luxurious. Not perfect.
But warm.
A yellow light glowed inside. The faint smell of cooking lingered.
⸻
"Just go in," Raka said casually.
Lica stood in front of the door.
Her feet felt heavy.
She had stood like this before.
In front of a house that was supposed to be hers.
And couldn't enter.
⸻
"Lica?" Raka called.
She turned.
"Are you okay?"
Lica nodded slowly.
Then—
She stepped inside.
⸻
Nothing stopped her.
Nothing passed through her.
No one ignored her.
She… truly entered.
⸻
Inside, an elderly woman was sitting on a chair.
She turned.
"Oh, you brought a guest?"
Raka smiled.
"Yes, Mom. This is Lica."
The woman smiled warmly.
"Welcome, Lica."
⸻
Lica froze.
Welcome.
Two simple words.
But they felt like something she had been searching for all along.
⸻
She sat on a wooden chair, her hands still trembling slightly.
The woman poured tea.
"Have a drink first. You must be tired."
Lica accepted the cup.
Warm.
Real.
⸻
For a while, no one spoke.
And for the first time—
Silence did not feel painful.
⸻
Lica looked around the room.
Simple walls. Family photos. The soft ticking of a clock.
No advanced technology.
No system controlling everything.
Just life.
⸻
"Lica," Raka's voice broke the silence.
"You said earlier you were looking for something."
Lica looked at her cup.
Thin steam rose slowly.
She could lie.
Avoid it.
Or—
For once…
be honest.
⸻
"I'm looking for a home," she said softly.
⸻
Raka did not respond immediately.
He simply nodded.
As if that wasn't strange.
⸻
"In that case," he finally said,
"maybe you don't need to look too far."
Lica raised her head.
"What do you mean?"
Raka smiled slightly.
"Sometimes… home isn't a place we search for."
He paused for a moment.
"Sometimes home is the place that… accepts us."
⸻
Those words hung in the air.
Lica felt them.
Deep.
Slow.
And… calming.
⸻
For the first time since she got lost between time—
Lica did not feel the urge to run.
⸻
But deep inside her, something still whispered.
A doubt.
A fear.
⸻
If this is not her world…
if this is just one of many possibilities…
Can she truly stay?
Or is this just another illusion…
that she will eventually lose as well?
⸻
Lica tightened her grip on the cup.
Its warmth felt real.
Too real to ignore.
⸻
And for the first time, a new question appeared in her mind:
If there is a place that accepts me…
even if it is not my world—
am I allowed to call it home?