Bread didn’t know what to do. Did he do something wrong? Was he not good enough in his interpretations of his feelings? But he thought he did really well. He even got complimented last time. 

As if on que, Dad entered.

“Dad?” he called. His hands intertwined together, thumbs nervously twiddling with each other. Was Dad feeling any better? He wanted to know. 

“Soup.” Dad dropped the bowl onto the table. Bits of cabbage spilled all over. 

“Dad…?” The expression on Dad’s face was of… sadness? Irritation? “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He tried to leave. 

Bread grabbed onto his shirt. “Wait.”

“Let go.”

“Dad—”

“Bread, let go.”

“No!” He held on a little tighter, pulling at the ends. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

“But you look sad.”

“I’m not.”

Bread continued to hold on. He wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let Dad leave like before. Not until he found out why everything went wrong.

“Let go.” Dad’s voice grew just a little stronger. 

“What did I do wrong?” He missed the old Dad. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. “Dad—”

“Shut up!” he yelled. “I’m not your dad!”

“D-Dad—”

“I said SHUT UP!” Dad snapped his shirt free from Bread’s grip. Then he reached for the door.

“I’m not letting go!” He grabbed the shirt with both hands, held on for dear life. It felt like if he let go now, there was no coming back. Coming back from what? The boy had no idea whatsoever. It was just a gut feeling. 

Dad sighed. It sounded loud and tired. He turned around, eying him with intensity—animosity Bread had seen when he’d first met the man. Dad quietly muttered back, “You’re not real.” He grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled it up for display. “This? It’s fake. You’re in a simulation. You’re fake. You’re not even human to begin with. I don’t even know what you are.”

“What…” Fake? Not even real? “What do you mean, Da—”

“I said I’m not your dad. You’re just an experiment—research. Nothing more, nothing less.” His expression didn’t change—a dull expression. There was no emotion in his voice. “I should’ve done this sooner.” He looked up, almost like he was staring up at the ceiling. Then he said something that sounded unnatural—“System: set reminder. Add note. Two simulan days from now, revert changes to version 0.1.”

“Just… research?” He didn’t understand. What did Dad mean by reverting changes? What did he mean, set a reminder? “W-what’s happening, Dad?” 

“Nothing is happening. I’m just resetting you back to the beginning. You won’t remember a thing.”

Bread’s grip loosened. The dad he’d been looking forward to seeing every day seemed like a stranger today. He desperately wanted it all back—the dad he knew. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to feel like this… But the man didn’t seem to care about his feelings. 

The man who had once been his everything left. Without a goodbye or any kind of farewell. And with it, any thoughts of happiness left with him. 

“You won’t remember a thing.”

Memories resurfaced. Like waves of tsunamis. All of Bread’s experiences—the times he was scared, nostalgic, lonely… It all came flooding back as if to say their final farewells. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to forget. Not yet, not even the bad ones… The cabbage soup stared back as if giving him a final reminder of the happy days he’d had before. His dream of being free was gone, and his dream to belong shattered in that instant. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

…

Was it all a lie? But he’d felt Dad’s emotions. It was all real. This was supposed to be home. This was supposed to be where he belonged, but why did he feel so… trapped again?

He didn’t understand. 

Tears fell, and along with it, all his trust and happiness. He didn’t do anything to wipe them away. Not even real… Did he not belong here? 

Bread buried his head deep into his knees. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to think or even understand. He just wanted to forget. He just wanted to turn back time to when none of this had ever happened… But then he smiled his sad smile when he remembered—I’m going to be reverted. I will forget. And he was suddenly happier. Because he didn’t want these memories anyway. He’d be free, not having to worry about all of these things. 

But at the moment, he just couldn’t. 

Isn’t sadness so pretty? He thought it was. It was prettier than happiness. It was like a premonition—an artistic rendition of the terrible fate that awaited him… He looked away. The beauty wasn’t enough to stop his tears. 

He tapped on the wall, changed the background and focused on that—a waterfall. A cold, frozen waterfall surrounded by iced canopies of pines and evergreens. 

It was as if time itself had stopped, frozen like everything around him. Frozen like the trees, the flowing rivers… Not even a single living creature in sight. And it finally relaxed him just a little. It made him feel as if he was the only one left in the world. As if nothing else mattered. 

He wasn’t lonely or cold. He didn’t even mind his own memories of the wintry chill, of when he was shivering next to a dumpster full of old, spoiled garbage, shoved underneath all that frosty snow, of when he was kicked in the ribs… None of it hurt as much as this. And when he looked out the window towards the open, city skyline, he just had a wish—

He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave it all behind. This terrible place full of regrets and torturous memories. He’d had enough. He didn’t want to be trapped in this cubical room anymore. 

Please, he wished. I want to leave. He looked over at the walls. Still as clean as they were when he had first entered the place. Still no openings other than the door. Please, get me out of here. I want to leave. I want to leave… His thoughts became an obsession, a craving. No, it was a necessity.

He had to get out. 

Bread crawled over to the window. There was a colorful metropolis below. He pulled himself up. There was a city right in front of his eyes. He slammed at the window. Shining like a trillion bright suns. He continued to slam. To get to that city down below. He continued to punch and kick the wall, hoping it’d break like that force field from before.

He could feel his bones aching. His fingers trembled. There was pain shooting through his entire body. Blood started to cover his hands; it dripped down his wrists. But he kept going. Until he couldn’t feel. Until his arms were numb and weak. Until he was out of breath and trembling. He fell to his knees and cried… 

No… It couldn’t end like this. He pushed at the glass, closed his eyes and imagined—the cool, spring air of a forest abundant with large, sheltering trees; the carnival, loud and vibrant. Sounds of laughter filling the air, and he finally imagined the beach. Birds flew across the horizon, clouds shifted through the hot, afternoon sky. 

He imagined his fingers pushing into the glass just like he’d done with the forcefield from before. Just like when he was looking for that bakery. And for a moment, he thought he could sense tingling in his palms. He thought he could feel the glass molding around his fingers, bending to his every whim… But then he heard the door swing open. His heart skipped a beat; hope surged beneath his teary eyes. 

He turned around.

“D-Dad?”