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A small, polite window appeared: “One conversion free. Next requires a soul fragment. Proceed?”

Leo’s hand hovered over the mouse. He looked at his packed suitcase. The long flight. The boring hotel. The silence.

A countdown: 3… 2… 1…

He closed it. The window reopened.

“The sound of your mother’s laugh. You haven’t heard it in six years. You won’t miss it—you’ll just never recall it again.”

Leo shrugged. “Worst case, I get a virus.”