I stared at them.
They stared at me.
And for once, I didn't try to be funny about it. Didn't deflect. Didn't spiral out loud just to soften the weight of it.
I just… started talking.
Not clean. Not structured. Definitely not pretty.
I explained everything.
How I got pulled in. What Zethara really was. The reset. The deaths. The second run. The tower. The bridge between worlds. The system. The difference between players and Zetharians.
All of it.
Some parts came out steady.
Some parts didn't.
There were moments I had to stop because my throat decided to close up like it was trying to protect me from my own words. Moments where I laughed at the wrong time because if I didn't, I'd probably just sit there and stare at the table for ten minutes straight.
No one interrupted.
Not once.
Mikel leaned forward the entire time, elbows on his knees, listening like he was trying to piece together something broken and fragile.
