POV: Aria
I went through the window.
No thinking. No doubt. Just grabbed my tablet and jumped as the door burst inward.
Four stories up. In my old life, this would've killed me.
But Spirit Warriors—even weak D-rank ones—had improved bodies. I hit the fire escape hard, rolled, and kept going.
Behind me, Celeste's scream turned into something that definitely wasn't human.
I didn't look back. Couldn't look back.
I ran through the Rust District like my life depended on it. Because it did.
The Old Clock Tower loomed ahead, abandoned and crumbling. I burst through the door and—
Empty. No mystery caller. No answers.
Just me, gasping for air, and the sound of footsteps getting closer outside.
Then I saw it. A note stuck to the wall with a knife.
Changed my mind. You're more interesting living. Survive three days. Build something that shows you're worth saving. Or don't. Either way, it'll be interesting. —M
"Are you kidding me?" I screamed at the empty tower.
The footsteps stopped outside. Waiting.
I looked around anxiously. There—a back exit. Probably led to the junkyard behind the tower.
I ran. —
Three days later, I looked like death.
No sleep. Barely any food. Just me, stolen parts from junkyards, and memories from a lifetime of game creation flooding through my exhausted brain.
My new "apartment" was actually an abandoned storage room Lyric let me use. It smelled like rust and motor oil, but the door locked and Celeste hadn't found me yet.
Small wins.
The game terminal sat in front of me, patched together from scavenged tech. It looked like junk. Wires showing. Screen cracked. The whole thing held together with duct tape and sheer hope.
But it worked.
I'd spent three days building Silent Apartment 404 from scratch. Not the full version from my old life—I didn't have the means for that. But a test. A taste. Just enough to prove the idea.
Just enough to create real fear.
My hands were shaking as I typed the final lines of code. Not from fear this time. From tiredness. From excitement. From the bone-deep certainty that this would either save me or destroy me totally.
There was no third ground anymore.
"Done," I whispered.
The screen flickered. Green text appeared: SILENT APARTMENT 404 - PLAY IF YOU DARE.
Below that: WARNING - PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA GUARANTEED. NO REFUNDS FOR NIGHTMARES.
I'd weighed that warning. Most game makers would make things sound safe. Appealing.
But I knew better. Tell people something is dangerous, and they'll line up to prove they're strong enough to handle it.
Human behavior hadn't changed between worlds.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"It's me," Lyric's voice called. "You alive in there?"
I opened the door. My best friend stood there with two cups of coffee and a concerned look.
Lyric Winters had stuck by me when everyone else disappeared. She ran the Underground Arcade—an illegal business where desperate Spirit Warriors paid for unregulated emotion-harvesting experiences. The Spirit Council kept trying to shut her down. She kept finding ways to stay open.
We'd been friends since we were kids in the Rust District. Both outcasts. Both survivors.
"You look terrible," she said, giving me coffee.
"Thanks. You always know what to say."
"Seriously, Aria. When's the last time you slept?"
"What day is it?"
"That's what I thought." She eyed the airport. "Is this it? Your miracle game that's going to fix everything?"
"It's going to work."
"You said that about the last three stations you built. They all exploded."
"Those were practice. This one's different."
"It better be." Lyric's face turned serious. "The Spirit Council raided three illegal playgrounds last night. They're cracking down hard. I can't afford to draw attention with faulty tools."
"I know."
"And there are whispers about you. People saying your sister is looking for you. That you're dangerous. That the Council put out a quiet warrant for your arrest."
My hands tensed on the coffee cup. "What kind of warrant?"
"The kind that doesn't officially exist. The kind where you just leave and nobody asks questions." She paused. "Aria, what's really going on? This isn't just about losing your license, is it?"
I wanted to tell her everything. About the past-life memories. About Celeste not being Celeste. About the thing wearing my sister's face that had tried to kill me three nights ago.
But the mysterious caller's warning echoed in my head: Trust no one.
Even Lyric?
"I can't explain yet," I said finally. "But I promise this terminal works. Just give me one chance. One player. That's all I need."
Lyric studied my face. Whatever she saw there made her sigh.
"Fine. One chance. But if this brings the Council down on my amusement, you're on your own. I like you, but I'm not going to prison for friendship."
"Fair."
She helped me load the box into her van. We drove through the Rust District in silence, both of us watching for Council guards.
The Underground Arcade was hidden beneath an abandoned building. You had to know the right doors, the right keys, the right people.
Inside, desperate Spirit Warriors crowded around illegal computers. Most of them were low-rank like me—people the system had failed, trying to scrape together enough emotional energy to live.
Some played combat simulators that created weak fear. Others used empathy extractors that pulled sadness from terrible stories.
All of it was useless. Scattered. Like trying to fill a bucket using an eyedropper.
I was about to show them a firehose.
"Corner spot," Lyric said, pointing. "Low business. If it fails, fewer people notice. If it works..." She trailed off.
"It'll work."
I set up the computer. Connected the power. Watched the screen come to life.
SILENT APARTMENT 404 glowed in green letters.
Around the arcade, a few people glanced over. Curious. Skeptical.
"What's that?" someone asked.
"New game," Lyric announced. "Experimental. High risk, high gain. Who's brave enough to try?"
Silence.
Then a guy pushed forward. B-rank mark on his chest. Cocky smile. The kind of Spirit Warrior who thought he'd seen everything.
"I'll play," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Famous last words.
He put his Spirit crystal into the terminal. The game's display recognized it, synchronized.
"Just follow the prompts," I said quietly. "Don't try to fight the experience. Let it happen."
"Please. I've done a hundred of these fear-harvesters. They're all the same boring—"
The screen went black.
Then the game started.
I watched his face. Saw the exact moment the experience took hold. His cocky smile faded. Eyes went wide. Breathing quickened.
Around the playground, people started gathering. Watching. Whispering.
The player's hands gripped the terminal ends. Knuckles white.
Thirty minutes passed. He started shaking.
Sixty minutes. Sweat poured down his face.
Ninety minutes. He was crying.
"Should we stop it?" Lyric whispered.
"No. He can disconnect anytime. The experience is powerful but not harmful."
"Aria, he's crying."
"Good. That means it's working."
At the two-hour mark, the game stopped. The player fell backward, yanking his crystal free.
His Spirit crystal glowed. Not the standard weak pulse. But bright. Throbbing. Absolutely swollen with concentrated fear energy.
The monitoring devices started beeping. Frantically.
Everyone stared at the readings.
"That's... that's impossible," someone breathed.
The player fell. Just sat on the floor, looking at nothing. His lips moved.
I knelt beside him. "What did you see?"
"The walls," he whispered. "They knew my name. They knew everything about me. Every fear. Every lie. Every moment I've tried to forget. It wasn't just scary. It was real. How did you make it so real?"
I stood up. Looked at the crowd. At Lyric's shocked face. At the Spirit crystal still glowing with collected fear.
"That's what real horror feels like," I said quietly.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then everyone started talking at once. Pushing forward. Demanding to play. Offering money. Crystals. Whatever I wanted.
Lyric grabbed my arm. "What did you create?"
"A weapon. A tool. A future." I smiled. "Take your pick."
But my smile died when I saw who just walked through the arcade door.
Dominic Ashford. The War Commander.
And he was staring straight at me.
"Found you," he mouthed silently.
Behind him, Council Guards filed in. A dozen of them. Surrounding the doors.
We were stuck.