She looked at her reflection in the dark window.

She took the chip. Slid it into her console. Then, for the first time, she didn’t look at the city.

On her tablet, a new message blinked.

Behind her eyes was a flicker—not of sadness, but of absence. She had no family to call. No friends who weren't clients. Her hobbies were the curated lists on her profile: classical piano, vintage film, tea ceremony. All learned for interviews, none enjoyed.

The system alerted Saito at 6:01 AM. N0746 offline. Bio-signal lost. Protocol: Asset Abandonment.

She stepped away from the window, opened the incinerator slot in her bathroom wall, and dropped the crane inside. It turned to ash in a second.

This was the “entertainment.” Not singing or dancing, but the art of the ephemeral. She learned to laugh at jokes about derivatives trading, to touch a sleeve just so, to remember a client’s mother’s birthday after a single mention three years ago. She was a mirror that smiled back, polished to a terrifying shine.