"I don't understand…" Shanazer whispered, her boots clicking softly on the cracked sidewalk as she walked back to her apartment. The sky above was dull grey, draped in lazy clouds. A soft drizzle had begun, cold drops speckling her skin.
"IT IS SIMPLE. I AM DESIGNED TO MAKE YOUR LIFE EASY," the system responded inside her head, calm as always.
Shanazer rubbed her temple. "Did my father… create you?" she asked aloud, uncertain if the system could understand spoken words.
And then—like a curtain yanked back—memories rushed in.
She stood again in the warm glow of home, but that night wasn't warm. Not really. It was trembling with fear.
Her father was on his knees, arms trembling. His dark eyes, usually so steady and protective, were filled with terror. The sharp hum of engines screamed above them as airships hovered like mechanical beasts. Their massive shadows sliced through the home's windows, shaking the walls. Light speared in through every crack, harsh and white. The glass trembled in its frame.
Then—the voice.
It slithered through a megaphone, deep and mocking. "Athens," it called, smooth and sinister. "Come out now or we will blow this building to ashes. You don't want that. Give us what we came for, and you and your little girl can live in peace."
Shanazer was shaking—knees, fingers, teeth. "Father, what's happening? I'm scared!"
Her father clenched his jaw. He didn't respond at first. Then his voice cracked open, barely controlled. "I'm sorry, my little princess." He took her shoulders gently. "Do you remember the tunnel drills we practiced?"
She nodded. Her heart thumped like a frightened bird.
"Athens." The voice came again. This time louder. Sharper. "I won't say it a third time."
Athens didn't move. Didn't flinch.
He dragged the heavy couch from the center of the room. Beneath it: a square hatch. He opened it quickly. Cool air from below rushed up.
"Get inside. Run. Run until I find you. I'm right behind you," he promised.
Shanazer didn't hesitate. She climbed down. The tunnel was bright with emergency lights. She knew every turn, every bump in the path. Her feet carried her swiftly forward.
Behind her, the hatch slammed shut. The couch scraped into place again above. Then—gunfire.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Windows shattered. Wood splintered. Her father's voice was gone.
Then—BOOM. The explosion shook the earth. Dust and dirt rained from the ceiling of the tunnel. Shanazer stumbled to a halt, gasping.
Is he…? Her thoughts refused to finish.
Back in the present, her knees nearly gave out. She gripped a lamppost for balance. Her throat tightened as fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Was that the last time I saw him? Could he still be alive?
She sniffed. "Do you know if he's still out there? Or… are you him?"
The system's voice came quickly.
"LIKE I SAID—I AM A GIFT. I AM NOT YOUR FATHER, NOR CAN I KNOW WHERE HE IS."
The answer felt cold. Shanazer wrapped her arms around herself.
By the time she reached her room, exhaustion weighed on every limb. Her apartment smelled faintly of cinnamon and old rain. She dropped onto her bed, not even bothering to take her shoes off, and passed into a shallow, restless nap.
But peace didn't last.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
Her eyes fluttered open. That pattern—she knew it.
"...Oli, come in," she murmured groggily.
The door creaked open. Olivia stepped in, glowing with her usual confidence, her boots squeaking softly.
She laughed when she saw Shanazer still sprawled in bed. "Up! We're going, remember?"
Shanazer blinked hard. Then it came back to her—the plan they'd made. She rolled out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, combed her hair into a loose ponytail, and yanked on her shoes. Two minutes later, she was ready.
"Let's go, dear," she said with a faint smile.
Olivia gave her a curious look, impressed. "Wow. You really can move when you want to."
They slipped out into the open air, walking side-by-side down the quiet street. The early evening light warmed the cracked pavement.
But then—it happened.
A voice, dark and sharp, called out from the shadows. It cut through the air like broken glass.
"Hey, Shanazer."
She froze. Her heart slammed.
"I'm here for my money. Been too long, hasn't it?" the man said, stepping out from the alley.
He wore a crooked smile. But his eyes were cruel. Cold.
"My patience?" He tapped his chest slowly. "Gone."
He stepped closer. Olivia instinctively shielded Shanazer.
"If you don't pay me back," the man continued, "you're gonna work for me. Forever. And if I'm feeling nasty…" His smile twisted into something crueler. "...I'll take your tongue. Or your legs."
Shanazer stared. Her mouth went dry. Olivia's hand slowly reached behind her back. For what—Shanazer didn't know.
But she felt something shift. In her bones. In her blood.
And the system? It was silent.
"Adaman, I just need a little more time," Shanazer said, her voice steady but urgent. "We're headed to Syntethicus. Once I get paid, I'll return every coin—with interest." Her words tumbled out like desperate promises chasing an unforgiving wind.
"Please," Olivia stepped in, her hand brushing lightly against Shanazer's elbow, a silent show of solidarity. "She's telling the truth—just give her the time."
For a moment, silence hovered like a blade mid-drop.
Adaman's face darkened, jaw tightening, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fist. "And who gave you the right to interfere, huh?" he growled, turning his glare on Olivia. "You sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong?"
His voice cut through the tense air like barbed wire.
"It's just the useless Olivia from Grandemadena's family," sneered Edwardo, stepping closer. His voice was gravel, roughened by years of smoke and cruelty. A V-shaped scar slashed down his left cheek like a branding iron from hell itself. His leer made Olivia instinctively step back.
Adaman's eyes lit up with cruel amusement. "Is that so?" he muttered with mock surprise. "You, a loser, challenging my business? Shut your rotting mouth before I shove you into a wheelchair."
The words slapped Olivia in the chest. Her knees buckled. Her breath caught. She felt as if the air had been snatched from her lungs. Her heart pounded in her ears, loud and deafening. What did I get myself into? What kind of monster is this man?
Adaman tilted his head slightly, voice dipping into something darker. "Actually, I've had a better idea," he purred, licking his lips with grotesque delight. "I'll have both of you in my bed tonight." His voice dripped with lust and poison. "Get them."
The command dropped like a gavel. Two of his goons moved forward, their boots crunching against gravel, hands twitching with anticipation.
Shanazer's mind spun. Do I run? Fight? Plead? But something inside her stilled the storm. No. I won't tremble. Not in front of them. Her spine straightened. Her eyes hardened. Let them try—let the system see what danger we're in. If it's ever going to help, now is the time.
From above, whispers fluttered through the building like dry leaves in a breeze.
"Poor girl... does she even have family?" Mrs. Javelin muttered, peering through her fourth-floor window. Her voice trembled with sadness and fear. "Taking money from the devil himself... she won't escape now."
Down below, among the wary onlookers, Margret leaned toward Mr. Samuel Gadagat.
"We shouldn't just stand here. Someone has to step in."
"And get shot for it?" he whispered sharply, eyes flickering with helplessness. "These are the kinds of thugs the military should erase from existence." Still, neither moved.
As the henchmen reached out for Shanazer and Olivia, the world seemed to hold its breath. That's when a voice, rich and thundering with authority, pierced the thick air like a lightning strike.
"Stop."
The command wasn't loud—but it didn't need to be. It was final. Irrefutable.
The two men froze mid-step, their limbs stiffening like they'd turned to stone.
Heads turned.
And through the parting crowd, a lone figure emerged, his presence like a storm wrapped in calm. He walked past Adaman's crew without hesitation, his eyes locked forward with surgical precision. As he stepped between the women and their captors, the tension in the air shifted—like the tide pulling back before a tsunami.