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Darkside of Idols

  "38 minutes to Four-Zero Rehearsal.”

  The NB Entertainment backstage was antiseptic. White floors, neon ceilings, no shadows, no warmth.

  Serena stood unmoving in front of the mirror.

  The label on her outfit blinked:

  “Serena.EXE v2.1 — Smile Idol Variant.”

  She adjusted the choker, locking neural input.

  Not decoration. Control.

  Behind her, Misty sat rigid in the chair.

  A laser whirred, grinding off calluses.

  No flinch, no wince.

  No soul left to protect.

  Her eyes were open but unseeing.

  Her fingers tapped a silent, endless rhythm on her knees —

  programmed, involuntary.

  Across the room, Luna observed.

  No judgment. No empathy.

  Only data collection.

  She was perfect because they made her that way.

  The door slid open without a sound.

  Mina entered — out of place in a black, windbreaker zipped high, sunglasses hiding more than eyes, a living, breathing coil wrapped around her neck.

  “You.” Serena’s voice was flat, automated.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Mina raised a datapad, scrolling through encrypted logs and performance overrides.

  “They pay for me. Thanks to you, Luna.”

  Luna straightened and said nothing.

  Ditto’s amorphous form slithered halfway out of Mina’s scarf, a glitch made flesh.

  “We’re authorized. NB signed the kill mind switch clause themselves.”

  Misty rose smoothly, without hesitation.

  Her posture perfectly aligned.

  “This freedom is a mirage, Mina.”

  “No.” Mina’s smile was a slash in darkness.

  “It’s your choice. If you can still choose.”

  She handed the datapad to Serena.

  “Your real debut isn’t in the past, girl.”

  Serena’s eyes locked on one line:

  “Ash_Ketchum—Emotional_Anchor.txt”

  “Serena.exe scheduled for archival.”

  Serena feel cracked:

  ‘My memories… deleted?’

  Luna turned away from Mina.

  “They always are. Misty was the tomboy once. Now she’s a shell.

  Me? I’m a placeholder. Disposable.”

  Misty crossed her arms, voice void of any edge:

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Mina’s reply was cold:

  “Perform as programmed.

  At midpoint...”

  She slid a microchip across the floor to Misty.

  “…disrupt.”

  Luna’s breath caught.

  “And if they pull us off?”

  Mina’s coat stirred, as if alive.

  “Then let them try.”

  ---

  Rehearsal — Step, Pivot, Smile

  Misty moved.

  Not a girl dancing.

  A machine executing commands.

  Silent counting in her mind:

  Left. Pivot. Shoulder. Smile.

  The movements were perfect.

  Not because she chose them.

  Because choice was obsolete.

  Her heel scraped slightly — a data error, quickly corrected by subconscious firmware.

  The earpiece whispered corrections.

  A voice called out, filtered through the noise:

  “Misty.”

  She responded on cue, not recognizing the sound.

  Then a second name, deep in corrupted memory:

  “Ash.”

  Her lips parted, voices repeating what was never hers to say.

  “…Ash…”

  No one noticed. No one cared.

  Her mind was a void with an echo trapped in endless loop.

  ---

  Four-Zero Dry rehearsal.

  Stage lights burned in a cold glow.

  Digital banners announced:

  “Welcome Our Legacy Idols!”

  [Misty_v2025] [Serena_Reboot] [Luna_Ascension]

  Synthesized voices rose — too perfect, too artificial.

  Thirty-two seconds of flawless routine.

  Then —

  A flicker.

  A pause.

  Serena stepped off-script.

  Misty’s eyes did not change.

  No surprise.

  No defiance.

  Just a nano-second hesitation — a buffer reload — before the program rebooted.

  Serena reached for the choker and clipped it off with shaking hands.

  “This isn’t me.”

  She cast the device into the fake crowd.

  Misty’s lips parted again.

  The system stalled.

  Then a fragmented voice:

  “Is this… right?”

  She turned away from the camera.

  No rebellion.

  No will.

  Only error correction.

  Luna paused. Then looked to Mina, standing at the wings.

  A faint smile crept across Luna’s face —

  because for the first time, something was unscripted.

  And Mina sang a note never written in code.

  ---

  NB Server Room — Code Rewrite

  Meanwhile Ditto flowed like liquid data, rewriting the system.

  Misty_legacy → Misty

  Serena.exe → Serena

  Ash’s anchor → purged

  Mina → work in progress

  Luna → ???

  The terminal blinked:

  [Misty_v2025] → [No Class Detected]

  Delete? → Access Denied.

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