I don't know how long I sit there, hunched on the rippling floor of the Hall, but it's long enough for my body to stop shaking.
Long enough for the weight of what just happened to sink in.
Debt. Ownership. Recycling.
The City doesn't just kill you. It makes you pay rent with your soul.
---
Scribe drifts closer, tapping its clipboard. "Processing complete. Delivery accepted. Congratulations: You're no longer a guest. You're property."
"Don't sugarcoat it," I mutter.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
I glare at it. "So this 'citizenship' thing—what does it actually mean?"
Scribe draws a glowing symbol in the air — the same one burned into my palm.
"It means the City owns a piece of you," it says. "Your name, your existence, your very being. In return, you get… the privilege of working off your debt instead of being immediately recycled."
"Working off," I repeat.
"Yes. Missions. Deliveries. Favors. Surviving. Every task lowers the weight of what you owe."
"And when I finish paying off the debt?"
Scribe chuckles. "Nobody ever has."
---
Before I can reply, a voice cuts in.
"Well, well. The Glitch survives."
I turn.
Two figures stand at the entrance of the Hall.
The silver-haired Reclaimer from before — sharp suit, shark smile. And beside him, the masked woman from the Unbound — silent, watchful, unsettling.
"Not now," I mutter.
"Oh, now is perfect," the Reclaimer says, strolling closer. "You've proven you're worth something. That means you need protection."
The masked woman tilts her head. "Or freedom."
They don't even look at each other. Like predators circling a wounded animal.
---
Scribe floats between them. "Oh, good. The factions are back. This'll be fun."
"I told you," the Reclaimer says, ignoring it. "Join us, Glitch. We'll make sure your debt gets handled properly. The City won't touch you if you're under our banner."
The masked woman speaks softly. "Or join us. Cut your chains. Be more than a tool for this rotting thing."
I take a step back. "You two never stop, do you?"
The Reclaimer grins. "Not when the prize is this interesting."
---
The chained figure's voice echoes through the Hall:
"Choose, Glitch. Or I will assign you."
The weight of its words presses into me.
Choose a master.
Or be given one.
And for the first time, I realize:
This place doesn't care about me. Not as a person. Not as Kael.
I'm just another asset to be used.