Mystic Messenger x Reader

Just a Game [707 x Reader]

STORYTIME.

Seven sat at his computer, typing away. Man, hacking could be boring when it wanted to. Freelancing could be boring when he wanted to. His programmed life could be boring if it wanted to. Sometimes he hated that he was aware he was nothing more than a video game character. He hated that he could never be real. He hated he could never truly be woth the ones who love him. But what he hated most of all was a small little word.

Reset

Every time then player comes in, the player plays with everyone's emotions. They make people fall in love with her. Poor little Luciel is forced to love them for every route. Every route he can't help but feel the tug of warmth and love in his chest. The worst part is that in his own route he isn't even aloud to act upon it immediately. The programmers force him to go "tsundere" in his own route. He has a shell built around him. But Seven doesn't want that shell any more. He just wants to be loved. 

But he doesn't want to be loved like a character or have a false love, no. He wants a true, genuine love. But unless he falls for someone in this video game Universe, which was pretty damn hard to do because the code preventing him from doing do, that will never happen. Why? Because the main character, the player, is real. And he is not. His whole life is just a game. It doesn't matter to anyone, because he's just a bunch of ones and zeros. It's hard being sentient, isn't it?

This time, the player was supposedly doing thr Jumin route. Jumin was the most painful, because it was the closest one to his route the player could do. The Deep Story mode is between himself and Jumin. But based off of the conversations so far, it seems the player isn't interested in him at all. Still, no matter what, 707 is forced to play along, or else the coding of the game zaps him. He tried. He still has a scar under his jacket from the incident. It was amazing that it didn't reset with the game. Then again, it could be his actual code that has been damaged. Who knows?

Seven had his phone. It was his turn for a chatroom. If he didn't play it, he would be zapped. And being zapped is terrible. You feel an electric shock that starts in your head and then it travels through your whole body, then it takes out s strand of code, leaving a scar in that place that looks like a lightning bolt. He was lucky it was under his sleeve, or else everyone else would be worriedly. He would much rather be the only self-aware character in this game. Which was just a game.

Finally that's when you, the players, joined the chatroom. He was about to press the first text when suddenly the chatroom went void. Seven was confused. He rose an eyebrow, examining his phone. That's when the world around him started crumbling. The walls, the floor, his belongings. They began to crumble rights before his damaged eyes, hiding behind the lenses of his glasses. Tears came to those eyes.

"No. Player please. No."

Seven always hated resetting, because it meant the player was giving up on the world he was currently in. It also meant he had to watch himself disperse into code and die, only to be reborn and be the only person to remember what happened in the route before. He looked around, tears falling under his glasses.

The walls became ones and zeros, the chairs, the tables, the floor, everything. Anything solid started to lose form and just become a bunch of green bianary code, flowing back into the source code to be distributed yet again with no memory of anything that happened. Seven looked back at his phone, whcih luckily wasnt coded yet. He saw a picture of something odd.

There was a crying person on the other side. Seven rose bothe eyebrows and more tears fell on his face when he relaized it was you. Not the MC you hide behind, but you. The front view camera of your phone displayed you to him. You were crying and someone was behind you. He couldn't tell, but then the camera faded from code and out of his hand. Speaking of his hand, his index, middle, and pinkie fingers are starting to lose form. 

Seven learned not to try and escape the inevitable. He had another scar on his thigh for that. He closed his eyes and sat back, feeling himself weaken and die as the code spilled out of them. Soon he did be resettled and he would have to live this hell over and over and over again. But hey, relax.

It's just a game.

808 words. Sorry it's so terrible.

~Eva