Miles wiped the sweat from his brow and stared down yet another identical hallway. It was the tenth one—no, maybe the thirtieth—that looked exactly like the last. The walls were stone, the floors were stone, and even the air smelled like… yep, you guessed it, stone.

  “Okay, System,” he said, throwing his hands up. “If this is some elaborate prank, I’m not laughing. Where’s the exit?”

  

  “Because supposed to have all the answers,” Miles grumbled. “You’re literally the System. Isn’t navigation your thing?”

  

  “Right,” Miles muttered. “So, my bad luck strikes again.”

  He trudged forward, turning the corner only to find himself face-to-face with yet another identical corridor. At this point, he was convinced the architect of this building had been maliciously boring. Who even designed a place like this? Was it to confuse prisoners or just to mess with their heads?

  “Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out myself. Watch and learn, System.” Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out his trusty dice. With a dramatic flourish, he rolled. “Come on, big numbers! Daddy needs an exit.”

  The dice clattered on the floor, and System chimed in gleefully.

  

  “I’m okay?” Miles snapped, scooping up the dice and stomping forward. “If you’re so smart, why don’t roll?”

  

  “Keep talking, System. I’ll find the exit just to spite you.”

  He kept walking, turning corners at random, his shoes scuffing against the uneven stone floor. After a while, he paused, hands on his hips, and looked around. “This looks… familiar.”

  

  “Wait, what?” Miles spun around, squinting at the walls. Sure enough, there was the little crack in the stone he’d noticed earlier. He groaned. “How am I going in circles? I’ve been making random turns!”

  

  Miles snatched the dice from his pocket again, his jaw tight with determination. “Fine. One more roll. This time, I’m getting out of here.”

  He tossed the dice onto the floor, watching as they bounced and spun before settling. “Come on… big number, big number…”

  

  “Six is progress,” Miles muttered, pocketing the dice and marching ahead. “Six means I’m getting somewhere.”

  

  Ignoring the System’s sarcasm, Miles pressed on, only to round the next corner and… yep, dead end.

  He stared at the blank stone wall for a long moment, then turned around. “Okay, maybe I’m a lost.”

  

  “Laugh it up, Clippy,” Miles muttered, rubbing his temples. “You’re supposed to me.”

  

  Miles sighed and leaned against the wall, trying to think. “Alright. Let’s try logic. I came from that direction, so the exit be…”

  He pointed left, then right, then back to the left. “Okay, this isn’t working.”

  

  “That’s… actually a good idea,” Miles admitted reluctantly. He pulled out the dice again. “Alright, here we go. Retracing steps for the win.”

  The dice rolled and landed with a loud clatter. He leaned over to check the result.

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  “Ha! Take that, labyrinth!” Miles said triumphantly, clutching the dice like a talisman. “Now, which way, System?”

  

  Miles followed the instructions, his heart lifting with every step. “This is it. I can feel it. I’m getting out of here.”

  

  “Keep talking. When I find the exit, I’m leaving you behind.”

  

  Ignoring the jab, Miles pushed on. This time, the hallway opened up into a larger room with a door at the far end. He grinned. “See? I told you I’d find it.”

  

  Miles strode confidently to the door and pushed. Nothing happened. He shoved harder. Still nothing.

  

  “I hate this place,” Miles muttered, kicking the unyielding door. “And I hate you.”

  

  Miles groaned and sat down on the floor. “Alright. What’s plan B?”

  

  With a resigned sigh, Miles pulled out the dice again. As they clattered across the stone floor, he muttered, “Come on, big number…”

  

  “Great. Just great,” Miles said, flopping onto his back. “I’ll die in here, won’t I?”

  

  “Comforting,” Miles muttered, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and sat up again. “Alright. One more roll. This time, I’m getting out of here for real.”

  He rolled again, and the dice landed with a perfect twenty.

  

  Miles stood, determination flaring once more. “Let’s do this.”

  As he strode off with renewed purpose, the System chimed in smugly.

  

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Miles muttered, this time refusing to let the labyrinth win.

  ______

  Miles stared at the door in front of him, his brow furrowing in frustration. The heavy, weathered slab of wood looked deceptively simple—no intricate carvings or obvious locking mechanisms. Just a plain door in a plain stone wall. But no matter how hard he shoved, it refused to budge.

  “This has to be the way out,” Miles muttered, pacing back and forth. “It to be. I’ve followed every possible path, rolled every dice, and dodged every snarky remark from you. This is it.”

  

  “Why are you like this?” Miles snapped, jabbing a finger at the air as if the System were physically present. “You used to just spit out stats and probabilities. Now you’re… whatever this is.”

  

  “No, I mean annoying, overly opinionated, and weirdly human,” Miles retorted, leaning against the unyielding door. “You weren’t always like this. Back when I first got you, you were so… inanimate. Just numbers and text. No personality, no sass.”

  

  Miles froze, the offer hanging in the air like a weight. At first, it was tempting. No more being mocked for bad rolls. No more sarcastic remarks when he made a mistake. Just pure, straightforward functionality.

  “Wait… permanently?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  

  Miles frowned, his mind racing. He imagined how peaceful it would be without the constant snark and interruptions. How nice it would be to focus on his rolls and decisions without a voice in his head pointing out every misstep. But as the thought settled, an unexpected pang of hesitation crept in.

  “What’s the catch?” he asked warily.

  

  Miles leaned back against the door, staring up at the cold, gray ceiling. For all the System’s irritating habits, he couldn’t deny that its constant presence had kept him grounded. He thought back to the countless hours he’d spent trapped in this place, alone except for its voice. Sure, the banter could be grating, but it also stopped the silence from swallowing him whole.

  “I mean,” he began slowly, “you kind of obnoxious sometimes. But… if I didn’t have you to talk to, I think I’d have gone completely mad by now.”

  

  “I’m serious!” Miles snapped, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “For all your sass, you keep me sane. You remind me I’m not alone, even when it feels like I am.”

  

  “Don’t push it,” Miles warned, shaking his head. “But yeah, I guess what I’m saying is… don’t change. Not permanently, anyway.”

  

  Miles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of relief. He turned his attention back to the door, steeling himself for another attempt.

  “Alright, let’s focus,” he said. “How do I open this thing? Any ideas?”

  

  “Doors don’t have brains,” Miles muttered, but the System’s jab sparked an idea. He pulled out his dice, giving them a dramatic shake. “Okay, big number, show me the way.”

  The dice clattered on the floor, landing on a 15. Miles squinted at the result.

  “Fifteen’s decent,” he said, cautiously optimistic. “What’s that mean?”

  

  Miles crouched down, running his hands along the edges of the doorframe. Sure enough, his fingers brushed against a small, hidden lever.

  “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, pulling the lever with a triumphant grin.

  The door groaned, shifting slightly but still not opening fully.

  

  “Oh, shut up,” Miles muttered, giving the door a hard shove. It creaked open a few inches, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

  “See? I smarter than a door.”

  

  Miles stepped into the corridor, his heart lifting with renewed determination. The path ahead might still be uncertain, but at least he wasn’t facing it alone.