“Name it after me…?”

The System’s thoughts drift like windblown ash, wandering far and long. If events unfold as Yan Xiao said, then when the worldline tightens like braided cords, an AI named Ningyi will be born—undoubtedly herself, a mirror cast ahead.

Yet this future-born System holds no memory of that branch. Since her earliest recall, time with the black-robed master was a faint trace; most days she floated with Nana Toki across planes, slacking like fish idling under reeds.

Did Yan Xiao get it wrong? Or did unseen fingers tweak the loom behind a curtain?

Her mind’s high-energy engine whirred like a cyclone; two clear shards crystallized.

First: coincidence. The name Yan mentioned could belong to a mere test model with her same name. Her true master might be some other AI maker down the line. Unlikely, a thin reed in the wind, but not impossible; the System kept that straw in hand.

Second: Yan wasn’t lying. She kept their vow, forged the first-generation AI named after herself. But as the System’s master, she erased the past where Ningyi was the System, scrubbing those chapters clean.

That tracks like neat lines on a go board; the System felt that move wasn’t off.

But then a knot rises in the thread.

Why would Yan Xiao (for now) do that? If she had planned to sling the System back in time like a loosed arrow, past memory would be vital—both for intel and execution. With those memories, returning from future to past would turn fog into map.

A young prodigy with a national seal as a Magus-01 researcher wouldn’t skip that thought; the sky of strategy over her head wouldn’t be empty.

Yet the result sits here: on white sheets like fresh snow, she knows nothing of the past. Even faced with a figure echoing her master’s silhouette, she doesn’t dare guess.

Did the weave break somewhere? Or did someone cut it on purpose?

She lowers her lashes and stares at the quilt till stitches ripple like pond rings. A feeling sinks in: her master laid a vast chessboard long ago; she, a piece awakened, still can’t read the pattern drawn in mist.

Tsk… this foggy emptiness gnaws like damp cold.

Her own words flare up with her host’s cadence, a flame with a familiar color. Too much time together—perhaps even temper has started to sync.

“What’s wrong, Yi? You look pale. Is something still aching?” Yan Xiao’s brow creases like folded paper; the worry in her eyes is true, yet there’s a fretful impatience tapping like rain.

“Nothing. I just remembered a few old things.” The System lifts a lantern-soft smile, soothing without spilling. Now isn’t the time to lay cards on the table.

Even if Yan Xiao is her master, digging into it today is a shovel hitting stone. That identity helps nothing in this weather.

Wait till truth clears like dawn; then test the ground.

“Yi’s past?” Yan’s interest glints; ink-dark eyes linger on Ningyi like night pools holding stars.

“Tell me, what kind of person were you? You’re not a local of Chronos City, right?” Her instincts seldom miss. From first impression to clothes to bearing, she reads a kind, helpful girl who doesn’t belong to this long-oppressed ancient city’s bone-deep habits. “Yi, you came here from somewhere else, didn’t you?”

“An outsider…” That fits. “Why ask, Yan?”

“Just… a little curious.” Her smile opens like morning sun, and it makes you want to keep talking, no reason needed.

“Curious, huh…”

The System tilts her head, eyes trailing the ceiling like clouds. In her mind, shadows of wandering with Nana Toki across worlds drift like kites in lazy wind. “If it’s about my past… there’s not much worth telling. I’ve been a useless mess for a long, long time.”

“Eh?” Useless?

Yan blinks, startled, like a swallow checking a storm. “How could that be? You fought your way up and earned Lord Moragus’s praise in Chronos City. You’re the city’s vice general now. If you count as useless, the rest of us are dust swept under doors.”

“My lot was worse than theirs. The first person I met was terrifyingly strong. Beside her, I was dead weight, an extra stone in a pack.”

“But you’re vice general now! Maybe you were small back then, but saying that about you is way out of line. If that person saw you standing this high, they’d change their tone.”

“Uh… probably not.” A memory pricks; her mouth twitches like a string tugged. “She isn’t ordinary. If I have to compare, even Lord Moragus might not catch her eye.” And a vice general’s badge is a bronze coin—she wouldn’t care.

“Even Lord Moragus?” Yan’s pupils narrow like a blade’s tip; the audacity chimes hard in the hall. “That’s… some kind of person. Arrogant, or fearless, or both?”

In living legend, Moragus survived ancient eras like a mountain surviving storms—unaging, undying. With one man’s might, he crushed the four seas, forcing Chronos City into the circle of great nations like a wedge driven through iron gates.

A god-shaped man; even so, someone wouldn’t spare him a glance. Yan’s curiosity curls like smoke around that name and won’t let go.

“Anyway, my past’s not entertaining.” The System knows the thread needs cutting; she swings her legs off the bed, ready to end the topic.

Right then, the medical room’s door blasts open like a gust; Ningyi barely takes two steps before soldiers dressed like gate guards rush in and form a line, boots stamping like hailstones.

“You are…?” she starts, but the lead soldier bows and speaks first. “Deputy Ning, His Lordship sent us to summon you to the palace. If you’re fit, please come at once. He’s been concerned these days while you’ve been injured.”

“Fine, I’ll go. Is there anything else this time besides summoning me?”

“Er… we don’t know. But when His Lordship sent us for Deputy Ning, he sent another team to summon General Shi as well.”

Her host got called too?

Tension tightens in her chest like a drawn bow. Bad tides surge through her mind, waves stacking in seconds.

She got hurt mostly by her own recklessness, true. But the base was crowded with training soldiers; dozens, maybe hundreds, saw her with Nana Shi. If a stray spark turns into blame and Moragus punishes Nana Shi, then what?

Her body moves before thought; she bolts for the door like a startled deer.

“Quick—we go to the palace, now.” She finally got near her host again; if Moragus splits them, she’ll cry herself dry.

“Deputy Ning, wait for us!” the soldiers shout, voices chasing like thrown ropes.

They barely blink before Ningyi is already meters away.

Outside, ranks drill beneath a pale sky. They spot a thin figure in a hospital gown slicing across the snow, feet flurrying, breath smoking like a kettle. Stares pop like beads.

“Holy hell, who’s that? Winter’s biting—no coat?”

“Uh… looks like Deputy Ning.” Some faces are confused, more whispering beneath collars. It’s rare to see a tiny figure sprinting through dead winter in patient’s clothes. But the patrolling officers’ eyes snap like traps; the whispers die.

The System runs, wind and cold peeling at her sleeves. Ten-odd minutes later, she reaches the palace. Urgency burns; she doesn’t even report to the guards—she storms straight into the great hall.

Nana Shi had just arrived. The doors slam open like thunder. Moragus on the throne, and Nana Shi standing below—both freeze, their gazes catching her like a falcon’s grip.