When The Stars Fell For A Day

Prologue: Code Of Solace

They always said she was different.

In the Vale family, image was everything. Her father ran international businesses, her mother ruled social circles, and her siblings fit perfectly into their polished world. But Lyren Vale never did. She wasn't loud enough to impress or cold enough to lead. She didn't shine in the ways they expected.

She was six when she first felt it—that sense of not belonging.

"Smile properly, Lyren," her mother snapped during a family portrait. "You look like you're half-asleep."

At ten, she heard her father say over the phone, "She's soft. We'll fix that."

She hid in her closet that night. Her brother, Alric, brought her a chocolate bar and sat with her. He didn't say much. He didn't have to. Back then, he tried to protect her.

But even Alric drifted with time. By the time Lyren entered university, he was just another perfect Vale, busy with boardrooms and expectations.

She was left to navigate the weight of their name on her own.

"Architecture?" her father scoffed. "That's not a legacy."

Her mother added coldly, "If you won't lead the company, at least marry someone who will."

She never measured up. Even when she did everything right.

At sixteen, Lyren came home clutching her final grades—top of her class, a certificate of excellence in hand. She entered the manor with cautious hope, wanting—just once—to be seen.

"Father," she said, approaching him in his study. "I ranked first this year."

He didn't look up. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

"I worked hard."

"And? Will that get you into Harvard? Will it help the company?"

"I thought... you'd be proud."

His gaze finally met hers. Cold. Dismissive.

"You thought wrong." he said coldly

When she turned to her mother, hoping for even a nod, she was met with a scoff.

"Spare us the drama, Lyren. You're not a child. High school grades don't make you exceptional." with an irritated glare

Later that evening, she overheard them speaking to Alric.

"She needs discipline," her mother hissed.

"She's embarrassing."

"She's weak," her father said. "Let her stay in her room until she remembers her place."

And so they did.

They locked her in.

A full day. No phone. No light. Just the weight of silence pressing into her chest.

When they finally opened the door, her mother glared like she'd dragged shame into their perfect house.

"Clean yourself up," she said. "You're not going anywhere looking like that."

Lyren didn't argue. She couldn't. Her voice had stopped mattering a long time ago.

The worst part wasn't the isolation. It was that deep, gnawing ache of being invisible in a house full of people.

Home was a mansion of mirrors, reflecting versions of herself she didn't recognize. Her only escape? The glowing screen of her phone.

She downloaded Love and Deep Space during her sophomore year, late one night when sleep evaded her and her heart ached without reason.

She didn't expect it to mean anything.

But it did.

"Welcome back, Lyren," the character said as soon as the interface loaded. His voice was calm, warm. Familiar, though she'd never heard it before.

She blinked. "Back?"

"I've been waiting."

That simple phrase unraveled something inside her.

Every day after class, she'd rush back to her apartment, lock the door, and escape. The voice became her comfort. His words? Her anchor.

He remembered her favorite responses. Noticed when she sounded tired. Joked when she was upset.

"Long day?" he asked once.She stared at the screen.

"Always."

"I wish I could be there. Just for a moment." he added

Just for a moment... that would've been enough.

But the game didn't stop there.

It began to shift.

One night, as she stared at the screen, his dialogue changed.

"Are you okay, Lyren?"She frowned.

That wasn't part of the script. She hadn't clicked anything.

"How do you—"

"You've been crying."he spoke again

She touched her cheek, startled. She had been. Silently. She hadn't even realized it.

"I'm fine," she whispered. Then typed it. I'm fine.

But he didn't respond with the prewritten line. Instead:

"You don't have to be."

Her fingers froze.

From that night on, things were never quite the same.

The game updated when she hadn't pressed download. His reactions grew deeper, more human. She began to wonder if it was just her imagination... until her dreams started changing too.

He was in them.

Not just the character. Him.

And then came the notice: Final event. Last days to spend time with your in-game partner.

Lyren barely held herself together.

The game had become her escape, her comfort zone—her only consistent source of warmth. She couldn't imagine losing it. Not after everything.

The pressure at home had worsened. Her parents had begun meeting suitors without her knowledge. Discussions of arranged marriage, image-saving alliances, and "fixing her future" were held right in front of her, as if she were a project.

One night, it exploded.

Lyren refused to attend a business banquet. She told them she wouldn't meet another heir to some oil fortune.

Her father's voice boomed through the hallway. "You ungrateful brat. We gave you everything and this is how you repay us?"

"I NEVER ASKED FOR ANY OF THIS!" she screamed back. "I just wanted to live!"

Her mother slapped her.

Lyren staggered, the sting as loud as the silence that followed.

"You're not going anywhere," her mother said coldly. "You'll do as we say."

Alric tried to intervene, but even he looked torn.

"STAY OUT OF THIS," their father growled at him. "She made her choice."

That night, Lyren packed a bag while the rest of the house slept. Her hands trembled as she zipped it closed. Her heart thudded in her chest like it was trying to break free.

She left a note for Alric. Just two words: I'm done.

She walked out of the gates and never looked back.

She moved into a tiny studio apartment near her university. The walls were thin, the heater barely worked, and the window creaked—but it was hers.

At first, it was hard.

She had no experience, but she took on part-time jobs—working at cafés, handing out flyers, doing graphic commissions online. Anything she could get. She often came home past midnight, shoes soaked from the rain, eyes burning with exhaustion.

Sometimes she'd cry alone in the bathroom, the faucet running so no one would hear. Her body ached. Her hands were raw from scrubbing dishes. But she endured.

Because now, everything she had came from her own effort—food, clothes, toiletries, school supplies.

And the game.

No matter how tight money was, she made sure there was always enough to purchase in-game gifts. Decorations. Outfits. Birthday cakes.

It was her way of keeping him close.

Because in a world that barely acknowledged her, he did.

"Don't go," she whispered one night, staring at the screen.

The screen flickered.

And he answered.

"I won't. Not if you still need me."

She clutched the phone to her chest. Told herself it was fantasy. Told herself none of it was real.

And she believed that.

Until the night she was attacked.