Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Unit

Chapter 160 - Birthday Invitation

Chapter 160 - Birthday Invitation

I don't know if my vacation here on Earth is a godsend or a nightmare. 

On the bright side, there's no shortage of fresh food, each bite bursting with flavors that feel alive compared to the sterile meals of Xyraxis. The air is crisp and fragrant with the scent of trees and soil, and the night skies—unpolluted and heavy with stars—stretch so wide they almost swallow me whole.

But beyond those fleeting comforts, there's little else to do. My days blur into an endless routine of binge-watching movies and series, none of which can silence the ghosts of my fallen friends when my mind slips into idleness. To keep the thoughts at bay, I threw myself into online gambling, chasing the flashing lights and hollow promises of winning. By the third day, though, the thrill curdled into bitterness—I was losing more money than I'd ever gain, and all I had left was regret.

Now, on the fourth day, after a quiet breakfast, I dragged myself back to bed. I lay flat on the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling's blank expanse, as if waiting for it to offer me answers. Restless, I picked up my phone and scrolled endlessly, my thumb flicking past headlines and posts that all felt shallow, forgettable.

Eventually, I opened my messages. Myrrh's name was still there at the top of the screen, her last reply dated yesterday. Our exchanges during this vacation had been short, almost trivial—weather updates, polite questions about her mother's condition. Yesterday, we played an online game together for half an hour, a fleeting pocket of fun before she excused herself to prepare for her trip back here to Earth. Her schedule in Xyraxis was always hectic, and I knew it wasn't her fault she had less time for me. Still, the distance gnawed.

I set my phone down beside me, exhaling a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the room of its warmth.

"Haah... I wish Myrrh could just hurry up and come back here already," I muttered to the empty ceiling.

Truth be told, my life feels hollow without Myrrh by my side. Her absence leaves a silence that no amount of food, games, or movies can fill. Coupled with the depression that clings to me after the war, I feel less like a person and more like the discarded shell of who I used to be. Empty. Listless. Bored. I even had to listen to depressing emo songs just to cover the emptiness and feel sad.

 And worst of all—I hate myself for letting it consume me.

Just as I was sinking further into that restless void, a sudden vibration broke the stillness. My phone buzzed against the desk, sharp and insistent. My heart leapt with the fragile hope that it was Myrrh reaching out at last. I snatched it up, anticipation flashing through me—only to feel it crash into disappointment the moment I saw the sender's name.

Not Myrrh. Instead, it was a number I hadn't seen light up my screen in two years: Hazel.
A classmate from high school.

Of all people, why her? Hazel and I had never been close. In fact, I could barely recall exchanging words with her outside of the occasional group project. She was the kind of presence you notice in the periphery of class photos, someone there but never truly part of your world.

Still, I opened the message:

Hazel: Hey, Zaft Callahan! I would like to invite you to my birthday party this Monday at Grand Fiesta Hotel! See you there!

Even the way it was written felt distant, mechanical. The full emphasis of my name screamed AI assistance, like one of those polished "personalized" blasts meant to trick you into feeling special. It had the hollow friendliness of a mass invitation dressed up in ribbons. A group message disguised as intimacy.