Chapter 1 – The Crack in My Life
The phone clock read 7:03 a.m. when the traffic light at the intersection changed from green to red without warning. No pedestrians, no cars, no reason at all—but the light blinked twice and forced me to stop.
The car behind me honked, and then another joined, until the sound of horns collided like an angry orchestra. I gripped the steering wheel harder, my knuckles whitening. It felt as though all of them weren't honking at the light… but at me.
I pressed my lips together, waiting for the green, and whispered to myself:
"One more day. Just hold on for one more day."
The light turned green again. I drove on, pretending my heartbeat wasn't still stuttering in my chest.
That morning I had another job interview. The fourth in two weeks.
Each had ended the same way: polite smiles, rehearsed questions, a handshake that was never really meant for me. And then the rejection—quick, clinical, as if the decision had been made before I even entered the room.
When I caught my reflection in the building's glass doors, I understood why.
The woman staring back looked far older than twenty-two. Dark hair hastily tied, lips cracked, under-eye shadows that no makeup could truly erase. But it wasn't just that. There was something hollow in her gaze, like a painting that had lost its colors. A piece missing.
I smoothed my blouse and forced a smile that tasted like ash.
"Good morning," I greeted the recruiter when my name was called.
He scanned my résumé for five seconds, then looked me up and down.
"I'm sorry, Miss Méndez. You don't fit the profile."
I blinked. "But—"
"Next."
That was it. I hadn't answered a single question.
I walked out of the building shaking, the rejection heavier than the others before it. The city around me moved as if nothing had happened: people rushing to work, cars filling the streets, neon signs flashing their endless colors. Yet I felt separated from it all—like I was pressing my palms against an invisible glass wall, watching life happen to everyone but me.
I leaned against the brick wall of a small café. My throat ached, and my chest felt like it was collapsing inward. I tried to recall the last time I'd had a good day. My mother's birthday, maybe.
Yes. A cake with the number fifty-two, her laughter when the candle refused to blow out.
But when I blinked, the memory faltered. The cake blurred. The laugh dissolved. And suddenly—her face was gone.
Ice stabbed my veins.
How could I forget something so simple? Something so essential? I knew I loved her, that she had been there. But the memory itself was like a page torn out of a book, only the ragged edges left behind.
A black hole gnawed in my stomach.
"They're stealing from me," I whispered. "They're tearing pieces away and I don't even notice until it's too late."
That was when I saw it.
Not on the street. Not on the glass itself.
In the reflection of the café window, hovering beside my face, words appeared—burning letters that pulsed with faint, digital light.
[Destiny Market System – User Detected: Luna Méndez]
My lungs forgot how to breathe.
I staggered back, yet the letters moved with me, as if welded to my silhouette.
"What the hell…" I murmured.
No one else reacted. A couple laughed over their coffee inside. A delivery man pushed past me, earbuds blasting. Not one of them saw the glowing text floating inches from my reflection.
Another line appeared:
Fate Score: -100
Status: Active Debt
I swallowed, the sound loud in my ears.
"F-Fate score? Debt?"
I reached toward the glass. My fingers found only cold air. And then—searing heat erupted on my forehead, as if a brand had been pressed into my skin.
I cried out and clutched my face. No wound. No mark I could see. Just the relentless burning.
The reflection blinked. A third message branded itself across the glass:
"Your destiny is no longer yours."
I staggered into the street, breath ragged, chest heaving.
"No, no, no…"
The crowd kept moving. A woman scrolled on her phone. A cyclist sped by. To them, nothing was wrong. To me, the world had just cracked open.
A high-pitched hum filled my ears. Not outside—inside. The sound burrowed into my skull, splitting thought from thought.
And then, a voice. Mechanical, cold, without emotion:
"Welcome, user. A pending debt has been detected."
I pressed my hands over my ears. It didn't matter. The voice wasn't in the air. It was written directly into my mind.
"To preserve your existence, you must complete an initial transaction within twenty-four hours."
My pulse pounded. "What… what does that mean?"
"Warning: Failure to complete the transaction will result in confiscation of destiny."
The hum spiked into a sharp tone, and the words in the reflection disappeared.
The world around me returned to normal.
But nothing was normal anymore.
I forced myself to look into the glass again.
The woman staring back was me. Or what was left of me.
The burn on my forehead pulsed like a second heartbeat. Not visible, but undeniable.
And I realized with crushing certainty: the cracks in my life weren't bad luck, weren't coincidences, weren't my failures.
They were payments. Prices already taken.
And someone had signed the contract without asking me.