Karl pushed open the glass door of FlipFry Feast, the familiar scent of frying oil and over-salted fries filling his nose. Another day, another shift. Boring, mind-numbing work, but at least it paid the bills.
He adjusted his cap and made his way behind the counter, expecting to hear the usual—Lina’s nonstop talking.
She always had sothing to say.
Whether it was about her soon-to-be-famous influencer career, the latest trends, or why the universe was "unfairly preventing her from going viral," she never shut up.
But today?
Silence.
Karl paused.
Lina stood at the register, her posture straight, hands folded in front of her.
No phone in hand.
No exaggerated sighs about algorithm conspiracies.
No humming to fill the empty space.
She was just... there.
Karl frowned. "Yo."
Lina turned her head toward him.
Her movents were slower than usual, her expression unreadable.
"Hey," she said.
Karl narrowed his eyes.
Sothing felt off.
It wasn’t just the lack of chatter—it was the way she said it. Flat. Emotionless.
Like she was going through the motions of being Lina but wasn’t really Lina anymore.
He leaned on the counter, studying her. "You good?"
Lina blinked at him, her eyes distant.
Then, with a small shrug, she said, "Yeah. I just don’t really care about being an influencer anymore."
Karl’s fingers twitched.
What?
He let out a short laugh. "Hah. Funny."
Lina didn’t laugh.
She didn’t even react.
She just turned back to the register screen, tapping the buttons chanically.
Karl stared.
His brain imdiately rejected what she just said.
Lina? Not wanting to be an influencer?
That was her whole personality. Her entire reason for existing. She lived, breathed, and suffered for the dream of becoming famous online.
For as long as Karl had known her, she’d been obsessed.
She’d skipped als to buy better lighting for her videos.
She’d cried over losing followers.
She once genuinely called herself "the next big thing."
And now?
She didn’t care?
Karl forced a smirk. "Damn. Did you get hacked or sothing?"
Lina’s lips twitched slightly, but there was no humor in her eyes. "Nah. Just... realized it’s not for ."
Karl’s stomach twisted.
Sothing was seriously wrong.
It wasn’t like Lina to just give up. Even when she was losing, even when her content flopped, she always convinced herself she was one step away from making it big.
For her to suddenly stop?
It didn’t make sense.
Karl’s eyes flicked to her hands.
She wasn’t holding her phone. Not even checking it.
Lina without her phone was like a fish without water.
Karl swallowed. He had questions.
But for so reason—
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answers.
FlipFry Feast – The Mystery Deepens
Karl sat in the tiny, grease-scented break room, pushing a few limp fries around his tray. His burger sat untouched, the soda half-lted. He wasn’t hungry. Not really.
His mind kept circling back to Lina.
Sothing was wrong with her.
She wasn’t just quiet—she was empty. Like the fire that fueled her every waking mont had been snuffed out overnight.
Karl exhaled, tapping his fingers on the plastic tray. Maybe she was just going through so rough shit. Maybe she had a breakdown.
But sothing about it didn’t sit right.
And then—
His phone screen flickered.
Karl tensed.
A second later, a familiar, smug voice rang out.
"Well, well, well. It seems the Lord of Fries has developed a taste for sothing other than deep-fried diocrity."
Karl groaned, rubbing his temple. "You again."
On his screen, Chillie Jean sat upon her usual virtual throne, swirling an imaginary glass of wine between her fingers. She wore her usual expression—half amusent, half condescension, as if she were watching a jester perform tricks for her entertainnt.
"You seem... troubled," she drawled. "Could it be that the great Lord of Fries has discovered a sliver of empathy in his oil-slicked heart?"
Karl scowled. "I’m just curious."
Chillie’s smirk widened. "Ah, curiosity. The first step toward foolishness." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "But tell , dear Lord of Fries... why waste ti brooding when you could simply know?"
Karl’s fingers twitched. He knew exactly what she was suggesting.
"The App," Chillie continued smoothly. "A tool of absolute knowledge, sitting in your pocket, yet you choose to ignore it? How very... quaint."
Karl clicked his tongue, looking away. "I don’t need to use it for sothing like this."
Chillie laughed. A light, aristocratic chuckle, like she was watching a child refuse to eat his vegetables.
"Oh, Karl. My dear, misguided Lord of Fries." She sighed, shaking her head. "You act as though this is so moral dilemma. As if uncovering a silly little secret would corrupt your soul."
Karl exhaled sharply through his nose. "It’s not that. I just—" He hesitated. "It feels weird."
Chillie arched a brow. "Weird?"
Karl gestured vaguely. "I use the App when I need to. When I want to change sothing. But this? This is just... nosiness."
Chillie’s eyes glead. "Oh? So the Lord of Fries does have a code. How positively adorable." She leaned back, tapping her chin. "Tell , then—if your precious morality is so strong, why do you still want to know?"
Karl didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
He did want to know.
He didn’t even know why—it was just bothering him. The way Lina looked at him. The way her voice sounded hollow. The way she wasn’t herself anymore.
It was digging into his brain like a splinter.
Chillie smirked. "You’re overthinking it, my dear Lord of Fries. Just check the App. It won’t even cost you anything. A harmless little peek."
Karl hesitated.
That was the thing.
It wouldn’t cost him anything.
The App only drained Uncommon Points when he altered sothing. If he was just viewing information, it wouldn’t affect his balance at all.
So, really...
What was stopping him?
Karl sighed, picking up his phone.
"Attaboy," Chillie purred. "Now, let’s see what juicy little tragedy we’ve stumbled upon, shall we?"
Karl ignored her, his thumb hovering over the App icon.
His gut twisted.
For so reason, he had a bad feeling about this.
But he tapped the screen anyway.
Karl stared at the Common Sense Manipulation App, his thumb hovering over the screen.
Chillie Jean watched from her digital throne, her expression smug as ever. "Go on," she teased. "A simple little peek. Surely the Lord of Fries isn’t afraid of a little secret?"
Karl rolled his eyes and ignored her.
He tapped into the Manipulation Hub—the part of the App that let him rewrite common sense.
But he wasn’t here to change anything.
Not yet.
Instead, he opened a blank command window and typed:
"Spreading secrets is normal. People enjoy talking about hidden truths."
Karl exhaled.
Alright. Let’s see what’s so damn important.
Karl tapped Start.
No pop-ups. No dramatic notifications. Just the feeling of sothing shifting, like an unseen veil being lifted.
He exhaled, pocketing his phone as he stood up.
Lina was heading toward the break room.
Perfect timing.
She moved slower than usual, her usual energy nowhere to be seen. When she sat down at the small table, she didn’t sigh or complain about custors. She just... sat there, staring at her barely touched al.
Karl walked up, grabbing a chair across from her. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched.
Lina’s fingers rested lightly against her cup, unmoving. She wasn’t scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t adjusting her hair.
She was just there.
Karl leaned forward. "So."
Lina blinked, looking up at him.
Karl tilted his head. "You really don’t care about being an influencer anymore?"
Lina stared at him for a mont. Then, with a small, almost bitter smile, she said, "No. Not anymore."
Karl studied her face.
That wasn’t the voice of soone who had simply moved on.
That was the voice of soone who had been forced to let go.
His stomach twisted.
He could feel it now. The truth was there. It was ready to co out.
And all Karl had to do...
Was push.
He leaned back slightly. "What happened?"
Lina’s fingers tensed against the cup.
For a mont, she didn’t answer. She just stared down at the table.
Then—
A quiet exhale.
And finally, in a voice that barely carried across the room, she whispered:
"I got tricked."
Karl didn’t move.
Lina swallowed, gripping her cup a little tighter. "I thought... I thought it was my big break."
She let out a small, hollow laugh.
"But it was just a lie."
Karl’s jaw tightened.
Lina wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was staring at nothing, lost in a mory she probably wished she could erase.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
Because she was about to tell him everything.
Lina’s fingers trembled against her cup. She swallowed hard, her breath uneven.
Karl watched as her shoulders tensed, her eyes growing glassy.
She was holding sothing back—but the dam was already cracking.
Her lips parted slightly, then pressed shut. She clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly, trying to keep herself together. But it wasn’t working.
A shaky breath escaped her. Her knuckles turned white against the cup.
"I...."
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