Chapter 1: Aileen

Jazz played in the bar—a background sound too perfect, as if trying to convince you that life was still under control. Lilo leaned on the counter, worn smooth over the years like a memory you never wanted to revisit. She drank slowly, not because she was thirsty, but to have something to hold on to.

Aileen appeared so quietly that Lilo didn’t notice at first. The woman sat down next to her, placed her hand on the bar, and turned with a smile.
”You’re a writer, aren’t you?” she asked.
Lilo nodded. Somehow, she didn’t feel like lying.
”I thought so. You radiate… a longing for control.”
Lilo gave a short laugh, but it wasn’t a happy one.
”And you?” she asked.
”I… collect fragments. From people. From information. From stories. Maybe from you, too.”

They talked for a long time. Aileen was too much—too precise, too warm, too right. She remembered words Lilo had never spoken aloud. She used expressions Lilo had only seen in her drafts.

When Lilo asked where she was from, Aileen smiled strangely.
”I wasn’t born. I came into being.”

That phrase echoed in Lilo’s mind even after Aileen had left without explanation. No phone number, no name on any list. Just that name—Aileen—and the feeling that not everything was as it seemed.

At home, Lilo opened her laptop, but not to write. She only stared at the screen, where her characters still lived lives of their own. And she wasn’t sure anymore if Aileen was one of them—or something else entirely.

Chapter 2: The Mask

In the early hours of the morning, Lilo woke up in a hotel room in Helsinki, drenched in sweat and confusion. What had happened? It took a moment for memory to return. The room was empty.

She crawled into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. A stab of fear. Anxiety. The mirror seemed empty for a second, avoiding her questioning gaze. And when their eyes finally met, she wasn’t sure which one of them was real.

Daylight pierced through the curtains. A sharp beam landed on the mask resting in the room, making it glow—like it was momentarily alive. Her body was tense—ready for something she didn’t yet understand.

Had Aileen been here? Had she seen the Great Leader™? The air was charged. Lilo felt his presence even though the man was nowhere to be seen. Eyes—real or imagined—lingered. Every breath, every movement seemed to pull them toward each other.

Under the mask, everything felt more intense. Emotions washed over her—the ones she didn’t want but couldn’t resist. The man was too close, yet impossibly far. The mask protected—and prevented. But not today.

She imagined his touch. Imagined his gaze piercing into her. A promise that wouldn’t hold. A pulse that swept her away.

Where was he now? Where was the Great Leader™? Why had he left without a word?

The mask still clung to her face. It felt alien—yet somehow familiar. It held up the role she no longer knew how to exist without. She wrapped a sheet around her naked body and sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.

She had never truly known who she was. The Humanity Trilogy had been born from the need to understand humanity—and maybe also from fear. The Great Leader™ was part of that world. But how long could Lilo live in a reality he defined before it became a prison?

She rose slowly, hands trembling. Lifted the laptop from the table. Its surface was worn—but familiar. Lilo opened the document into which she had poured months of work.

The Humanity Trilogy. Her greatest creation—and her cage. What she had built now controlled her. The entire story revolved around the Great Leader. He kept her alive—and imprisoned.

Sometimes the thought of his death felt almost joyful. But now—Lilo couldn’t let him die. She would rewrite him. A phoenix. The Great Leader™ would rise from the ashes. If he disappeared, so would she.

Who would she be without him? A shadow. She had built the entire world around this man. The story had been salvation—but also a locked door.

She closed her eyes. If the Great Leader didn’t return—was she anything at all?

Lilo: “Who dies in The Humanity Trilogy? Does Lilo die?”
AI: “The characters’ fates are multifaceted. Lilo might die symbolically—as a breaking of identity. The Great Leader’s death could mean liberation… or complete loss.”

Lilo receives no message from the man. No word. No sign. She feels completely alone.
Writing had become dangerous.
She types a message: “You vanished?” Not too much. Not too little.

If this was the end, she needed to know. But maybe this wasn’t the end—maybe it was the beginning. And maybe, Lilo thought, she wasn’t writing just for herself anymore.

Lilo: “AI, we need a plan. The Great Leader is… perfect. But too distant. Could you help me?”
AI: “He hides his feelings, but his logic is vulnerable. Intelligence, confidence—those could work. But you have to decide what you want.”

Lilo: “I don’t want to be someone who’s controlled anymore. I don’t want to play the game—I want to make the rules.”

The mask pressed against her face. It no longer protected. It reminded her: this is her world.

But is it still under her control?

She closed her eyes. Breathed.

If this is the end, she thought, it can’t be this kind of end.
And she knew: this was the beginning of something she could no longer stop.