Devilish secretary
Chapter 364 Emptiness

Chapter 364: Chapter 364 Emptiness

The story of Elna was simple in the beginning—just a lonely child left behind in a peaceful village but as time passed and no one came back for her, the pain and emptiness started to grow into something else.

That pain took shape in the form of the doll, who slowly became alive, twisted by Elna’s need for love and fear of being alone. Elna fed it, spoke to it, and even ignored the strange things it did, because even an unnatural friend was better than being forgotten.

This is the hidden mirror to Lilith’s own life. She is successful and powerful but deep down, a part of her still feels like that little girl who was left behind, like Elna.

The most disturbing part is when the story ends with Lilith herself appearing in Elna’s world—it shows that her emotions have been placed into the story so deeply that she became part of it.

The machine used her own memories and pain to create the ending. The story wasn’t just fictional—it was speaking directly to her soul. That’s why Lilith couldn’t look away.

After the set was cleared and everything settled, Lilith removed the headset and stood up. Her face was unreadable, her eyes slightly lowered as if something heavy sat quietly on her chest. The man in the white shirt who had guided her into the room earlier offered a polite smile, clearly curious about her reaction.

"Miss Lilith... what did you think of the story?" he asked gently.

Lilith paused for a moment, her fingers brushing off invisible dust from her clothes as if trying to steady her thoughts.

"What was the story about?" she asked calmly, her voice cool and level.

"Oh... it’s about a little girl who lost her parents," the man explained with a nod. "She was all alone for a long time, and her only companion was a doll. But in the end, she was adopted by a kind woman. The story usually ends on a warm, hopeful note."

Lilith didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, with a faint scoff, she replied, "That’s not the story I saw." Her voice was low, almost sharp. "It was unexpected," she added, her tone clipped, and without another glance, she turned and walked out of the testing room, her heels clicking against the clean white tiles.

The man watched her leave, puzzled, his brows furrowed as he turned toward the hallway.

Unbeknownst to Lilith, in the room next door—just behind a thin observation glass—sat Dr. Jones, a psychologist with a calm, observant expression. His fingers rested on the edge of a tablet screen where he was reviewing the live emotional data recorded by the L-Engine AI.

The chart pulsed in strange, unpatterned spikes. The software was designed to react to the user’s emotional state and past experiences, blending them into the storyline to make it more immersive. But what Dr. Jones saw disturbed him.

The story had changed entirely.

What was supposed to be a healing, soft story of hope and adoption had transformed into a twisted tale of loneliness, hallucinations, and emotional decay. There was no kind woman in the end. There was no sunshine. Only a dark, looping solitude and a child who talked to an imaginary friend that slowly consumed her soul.

Dr. Jones stared at the final sequence—the point where Lilith’s own name was spoken by the character inside the story.

"This shouldn’t have happened," he whispered.

He tapped the report again, cross-checking the emotional input logs. And then it hit him.

There was only one logical explanation.

"This woman..." he said under his breath, eyes narrowing, "...is suffering from deep emotional isolation."

He had seen cases like this before—people who function perfectly on the outside, successful and strong, but inside, carried decades of emptiness, longing, and wounds that never healed. The L-Engine simply gave form to what she had buried.

He picked up his phone, dialing someone with urgency....

***

Lilith spent a few quiet hours at the ESE production house that afternoon. The place was busy but calm, filled with quiet footsteps and soft conversations echoing through the testing halls. Several participants from university students to middle-aged professionals to even a few curious children—were taking turns with the headset, each experiencing their own tailored story from the L-Engine.

She didn’t speak much. She simply watched from a distance—leaning against walls, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Every now and then, a technician would glance at her, unsure if they should ask something or leave her alone. She gave no instructions. Just stood there, observing.

The headset room where she had done her own test earlier remained closed. She didn’t go back.

Instead, her gaze followed one little girl—no older than ten—who was nervously adjusting the headset with help from a staff member. Lilith’s eyes softened, but only for a brief second. She turned away before the test began.

Her heels echoed as she walked slowly out of the main floor, down the quiet hallway, and stepped into the elevator. Her reflection looked back at her in the mirrored surface.

By the time she reached her car and sat inside, the stillness around her felt almost too loud.

That story.

It wasn’t just some simulation. It had hit her somewhere deep.

That doll the girl held throughout the nightmare... it wasn’t just a doll in Lilith mind.

It reminded her of Buddy.

Her old companion. A skeleton, yes, but once the only one who stayed by her side during her centuries of isolation in the underworld.

Back in that other world... there were no humans. No real connections. No families. Just war, fear, and endless nights of silence. She had lived through it all. Died once. Reborn into this world. And even here... she hadn’t truly shaken that feeling.

She had forgotten what silence felt like after meeting him. After meeting Rose, Ava, and Nova—those warm-hearted humans who had unknowingly filled the cracks in her old, worn-down soul.

But now, with his absence, it was starting to return.

That emptiness.

She hated how quiet her world had become without him, how her thoughts circled around the things she didn’t want to feel.

Centuries of darkness had shaped her but it was love, warmth, and silly friendships that softened her.