280. Absolute Being’s Offer

Ravenna felt as though the very air in "The Office" had turned to liquid nitrogen. She was taken aback, her heart still hammering against her ribs from the shock of seeing her father’s face moments ago to now, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She was no longer just a grieving daughter; she was a Princess, an Apostle, and a leader for her people.“You...” Ravenna breathed out, her eyes narrowing into a sharp, icy frown. “You are the Absolute Being?”

She paced toward him, her footsteps silent on the white-tiled floor. Her mind flickered between the terrifying power his heart had displayed in the Sundar Valley and his current, almost casual appearance.

“Your face says everything,” The Absolute Being replied, his voice devoid of any real empathy despite the polite words. “I do genuinely apologize. As I stated, I do not understand the chemical variance of mortal ‘feelings,’ hence the error in utilizing your father’s likeness. I merely sought a form that would inspire cooperation.”

He began walking toward her, his movements fluid and unnervingly perfect. “You needn’t fret. I have no authority or power over you here, within the borders of your Origin Domain. In this space, your logic is the supreme law.”

Ravenna didn't move an inch as he approached. She just glared at him, her knuckles tight as she gripped her daggers. “I don’t care what you say or what you are. Just get lost. I didn’t meant to invite you here, and I certainly don't need to have a conversation with a parasite that plays with my memories.”

She summoned the Reputation System with a sharp flick of her mind.

Would you like to kick out the entity {Absolute Being} from “The Office”?

“So it’s true” she thought, her thumb hovering over the holographic 'YES'. “I have absolute control over this domain, even against a being like him. He’s a guest here, not a god.”

She was a millisecond away from clicking it when the Absolute Being tilted his head, a thin, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to your family after your death?”

Ravenna froze. The button flickered in front of her eyes, but her hand felt like it had been turned to lead. The cold, analytical part of her brain told her this was a trap, a classic manipulative tactic designed to exploit her greatest weakness. But her heart, the part of her that was still Joy Cha Kim, felt a painful, agonizing throb.

“What... what do you mean?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. She tried to maintain her glare, but the image of her father weeping by her hospital bed and the hazy memory of her mother rushing through the door flooded her mind.

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“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she added, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and longing. “You’re the one who calls consciousness a disease. Why would you care about my family?”

“I don’t,” the Absolute Being replied with brutal honesty. “But I am an architect who appreciates the value of an exchange. I can show you, Joy Cha Kim. I can bridge the gap between this world’s logic and the previous ones.”

He stepped closer, his violet eyes glowing with a soft, inviting light.

The Entity {Absolute Being} requests Limited Access to “The Office” functions. Grant permission for ‘Visual Manifestation’ ?

“What are you trying to do?” Ravenna asked, her gaze darting between the man and the system prompt.

The Absolute Being simply smiled, an expression that felt both alien and divine. “I am a ‘God,’ am I not? Think of this as a gesture to build trust. I can help you take a peek at the other world. I can show you the aftermath of your departure.”

Ravenna looked at the prompt. The logic she had built her new life upon told her to decline, to eject him and return to the battle in the Sundar Valley. But the daughter who never got to say goodbye was screaming to see her mother’s face one last time.

The silence of the void was too loud, and the image of her father’s weeping face from her memory was too vivid. She wasn't a machine who could just bury her emotions. She was a daughter who had been stolen away in a moment against her will.

With a grim, trembling hand, Ravenna pressed .

The Absolute Being, still wearing the polished, unnerving face of a celebrity idol, widened his smile. It was a predatory expression, devoid of any genuine warmth, but radiating a terrifying sense of triumph.

“Let me show you then,” he said, his voice overlapping in a discordant harmony.

He lifted a single hand toward the far wall of the white-tiled room. Suddenly, the Origin Domain groaned. The floor tiles buckled and vibrated as if an earthquake were tearing through the layers of reality. The white noise of the "Office" surged into a deafening roar of static, and a massive, jagged hole was torn into the wall's geometry.

A colossal display, twice the size of a theater screen, glitched into existence. It flickered with a blinding white light, followed by the jarring "NO SIGNAL" bars and a high-pitched, digital beep that made Ravenna’s ears ring.

Then, the static began to clear.

“It has been exactly one year since your physical expiration,” the Absolute Being narrated, his tone as detached as a history professor’s.

The picture on the display snapped into high definition. Ravenna’s breath hitched, and she felt a hot, stinging moisture welling in her eyes. It was her family’s living room back on Earth. She recognized everything: the slightly worn fabric of the sofa they’d bought on sale, the small dining table where she’d stayed up late studying by the light of a single lamp, and the framed photo of her graduation sitting on the sideboard.

But the room felt smaller, heavier. The air on the screen seemed thick with a lingering, quiet grief.

Two people came into view. Her father was sitting at the table, his usual charcoal suit replaced by a simple, domestic cardigan. He looked a decade older than he had in her memory; his hair was almost entirely white, and the lines around his eyes were deep trenches of sorrow. Her mother was standing at the stove, her movements slow and mechanical, as if she were moving through water.

On the center of the dining table, a small memorial stood: a framed photo of Joy Cha Kim, surrounded by a few white lilies and a single, unlit candle.

“Mom... Dad...” Ravenna whispered, the name "Ravenna" feeling like a foreign weight as she reclaimed the identity of Joy for a fleeting moment.