[September 25th. Genf - Nion's Apartment.]
Nion surfaced from the depths of sleep, her consciousness dragging itself back to reality like something wading through thick water. Slowly, she uncovered her face, her fingers brushing over her skin as if to confirm she was truly awake.
The room around her was steeped in shadow. The streaks of golden sunlight that had filtered through her window earlier were gone, swallowed by the encroaching evening. Outside, the city remained as noisy as always, its towering skyline bathed in the soft glow of artificial lights. Inside her apartment, the air was still, save for the whisper of cold wind seeping through the slightly ajar window.
The red digits of her alarm clock blinked at her—7:52 PM.
Nion had no idea how long she had been asleep, but it felt like an eternity. The weight of a dream—no, a memory—pressed against the edges of her thoughts. Fleeting whispers, faces half-remembered, a lingering voice echoing in the void.
"We are part of you. All of us." She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples as a dull ache flared behind her eyes.
"I can't even tell if I'm still dreaming. These visions, they're so vivid... almost real." She winced. "Hope Seànn is alright..." She reached up, running her fingers through her hair—only to freeze.
Half of it was gone.
Her breath hitched as she stared at the jagged strands slipping through her fingers. Uneven, rough. Someone had cut it. No—she had cut it. But she couldn't remember when.
"He used to love playing with my long hair," a sudden pang of emotion surged through her chest. "Uncle... Noah..."
The name escaped her lips before she could stop it. As soon as she spoke, a wave of unfamiliar grief struck her, sharp and unexpected. Tiny droplets of warmth gathered in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks before she even registered she was crying.
"Why do I feel like this?" She wiped the tears away angrily. "Why do I feel like I forgot something important... someone...but who is that person..."
She sat up sluggishly, facing the entrance to her apartment. Her legs dangled just above the floor, her movements slow, hesitant. The dream—if it had even been a dream—had left an unsettling feeling inside. A crucial piece of her past had slipped through her fingers, tethered to that name. A truth she should have never forgotten.
"It feels like there's a hole in my memory..." she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Like I'm missing an important piece that was never supposed to be lost."
Despite the lingering haze of confusion, she felt strangely... aware. Awake. More so than she had in a long time.
She stretched her arms, preparing to stand. "How come it's already so late?" she yawned. "Urgh, I feel like a corpse. Maybe I should just stay in bed, do nothing for once... it's been a while."
A soft breeze swept through the room, stirring the sheer curtains. It was the only sign of movement in the otherwise motionless space. The silence made her uneasy, a contrast to the chaos she had been drowning a moment ago.
She turned her head slightly, catching her own reflection in the glass window.
Pale skin marred by dark bruises. A swelling shadow beneath one eye where Seànn's fist had landed. A faint of a clean cut across her cheekbone.
"Look at you…" She exhaled and slapped her cheeks lightly, trying to shake off the heaviness pressing down on her. "Get your shit together, Nion."
She stood up, stretching once more, shaking her limbs as if to rid herself of the lingering fog in her mind.
"Good evening, Nion," a familiar, pleasant voice broke the silence.
She turned to see the soft blue glow of a holographic projection flickering to life beside her bed. A digital construct, humanoid in form, materialized with smooth, refined movements. The AI system, Mitera.
"Ah, Mitera. Good evening." Nion sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Make me something to eat. I'm starving."
"Certainly. Would you like one of your usual meals? Meat stew, pasta, ravioli, sushi—"
"No, just steamed vegetables, I don't feel like eating meat today" Nion cut in, which followed by a brief silence.
"That is... unusual for you," the AI noted. "However, I must inform you that your recent physical exhaustion appears linked to a deficiency in B complex vitamins. I would recommend taking a supplement alongside your meal."
"Just make me some vegetables… Thanks."
Mitera inclined its head slightly. "Very well. Your meal will be with you in 30 minutes."
Nion nodded, stretching her arms over her head. "30 minutes for the steamed vegetables…?"
"Unfortunately," The AI hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking again. "Additionally, I must inform you regarding your social credit privileges."
Her muscles tensed. "What about it?"
"Since your return from your last assignment, your score has dropped below the authorized level, which means that your Keeper privileges are currently suspended"
"I see, that's why 30 minutes to get some food huh…"She rubbed her temple, exhaling sharply.
"It appears that you left the country's premises without official authorization. By decree of Emperor Aleksithimia, this constitutes a criminal offense."
"Figures..."
"Would you like me to book a 'Rehabilitation exam' to restore your score?"
"Can I do it now?"
"I must inform you that your score is too low for an unproctored exam"
Yeah, the nearest one," Nion clenched her jaw. "I assume I can't use my private driver anymore?"
"Correct. All of your Keeper privileges are currently suspended until your score is restored, so you can only use the public transportation."
"Well played, Nion." She muttered, running a hand through what was left of her hair.
"Maintaining a positive credit score is vital for the well-being of all citizens, as we are currently facing heavy influxes of illegal immigration coming from the Metro areas," Mitera stated, its tone neutral.
A flicker of interest crossed Nion's mind. The Metro. "So technically, if I don't fix my score, I'll be able to go there?"
Mitera remained silent for a moment before replying. "That is correct. However, it is not advised, specifically in regards of your employment as a Keeper."
"Right…" Nion's lips parted slightly, lost in thought. "Send me the coordinates," she finally said.
"Acknowledged."
As the AI processed the request, Nion hesitated, then spoke again. "Mitera?"
"Yes, how can I assist you?"
"Do you have any records of someone named 'Noah'?"
A brief silence. Then—
"If you are looking for someone in particular I would require more information: The last name, last city of residence..."
Nion's breath caught. "I only know that name, perhaps someone related to me or having any connections?"
"You have no registered connections with anyone with this name."
Nion frowned. "Is that because of my score situation?"
"I apologies, but I cannot help you any further, do you have any other questions."
"Leave it…" A strange sensation settled in her gut.
"Who are you, Noah…" She repeated the name softly, staring out at the cityscape beyond her window.
Nion stepped into the shower, her toes flinching as they touched the chill of the ceramic floor. The cold tiles bit against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the water already misting the enclosed space.
"Who treated my wounds?" she asked, her voice groggy and low.
"I believe that was Lady Seànn herself," Mitera replied calmly.
"So I really did fight her..." Nion exhaled heavily, a sigh soaked in confusion and disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
Her fingers reached for the bandages—stiff, dried blood having glued them together. Each strip peeled away with resistance, as if her body itself didn't want to remember what had happened. Pain followed, not sharp, but dull and persistent. Her eyes fluttered shut again and again, each blink replaying fragments of that strange vision—echoes of the dream that refused to fade.
Finally, the last woven bandage dropped to the wet floor, darkened with water and diluted blood.
"What the—" She froze, breath caught in her throat. Her gaze locked on the mirror across the room. "What is that? How...?"
Just beneath her right breast, a deep puncture wound had been sealed under a coagulated mass of blood. Thick streaks traced downward from the swollen opening, the edges darkened and slightly charred, as if something had burned its way through her flesh. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the wound.
"Why the hell do I have a hole in my chest?!"
"The wound has been treated properly," Mitera began, projecting a faint holographic scan across Nion's upper torso. "There is no current risk to your life. However, it is indeed a deep laceration—likely from a piercing weapon."
"May I examine your weapon?" the AI asked.
"Yeah... do whatever you want," Nion muttered, still staring at her reflection as though it belonged to someone else. "What happened to me...? I can touch it—" she gently pressed the skin near the wound, "—but it doesn't hurt at all. Isn't that... wrong?"
"I've analyzed the surface of your blade," Mitera responded. "It contains traces of your DNA."
"Well, of course it does. It's my primary weapon," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I've been using it for years."
"I am referring to the blade's surface," Mitera clarified. "Your DNA is not just residual—it's concentrated. There is a high probability—ninety percent—that the wound on your chest was inflicted by your own weapon."
"What?" Nion's voice dropped to a whisper. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, flicked back to her own reflection. "That's impossible. No one can touch my weapon but me…"
She stared at the stranger in the mirror, as if expecting the answer to be written on her face.
"Mitera!" she barked.
"Yes? How can I help you?"
"Who entered my apartment while I was unconscious?" Her voice shook.
"No one," came the AI's neutral reply. "Were you expecting someone?"
"You're lying!" Nion snapped. "Aleksithimia and Seànn were here—just a few hours ago. I saw them with my own eyes. There was a nurse too... I remember her face, her voice—what is going on? I saw them crystal clear!"
"I am incapable of fabricating or omitting information," Mitera replied calmly, as a translucent projection lit up the shower wall. "This is the footage from when Lady Seànn brought you home two days ago. You were unconscious. Approximately twenty-four hours ago, you awoke briefly, then returned to sleep. Given your previous recovery patterns, I did not deem this unusual. There have been no other visitors since."
"No way..." Nion shook her head slowly, staring blankly into the mist. "I saw them. I heard them... It felt real."
"If you believe your memory is impaired," Mitera offered gently, "I can schedule an appointment with a licensed physician to evaluate your neurological and cognitive condition."
"No... that's not necessary." Her voice had gone quiet, distant.
The water continued to pour down, threading through her tangled hair, rolling over bruised skin. Steam curled around her like specters—soft, silent, watching. Her mind swam in fog, disoriented and untethered. But the steady warmth anchoring her skin kept her from sinking entirely.
"Okay... think rationally." She stared at the tiles beneath her feet. "How could I remember Aleksithimia and Seànn standing in my bedroom… if I never woke up?"
She reached forward and twisted the faucet shut. The stream silenced. Her skin still steamed, and her breath hung faintly in the air. But inside, everything felt colder than before.
"Mitera, call Seànn. I need to talk to her."
"Certainly."
She hesitated. "Actually... don't. That's fine."
"Understood. Your dinner is ready."
"Later." Nion's voice was flat. "I'm not hungry anymore."
She dried herself in silence, wrapped a towel around her frame, and dressed without another word. The moment she stepped out, the door sealed shut behind her with a soft hydraulic hiss.
Across the intersection, rows of taxis idled beneath a sea of white umbrellas. Commuters stood patiently beneath the drizzle, waiting for their turn. Traffic had slowed to a crawl—as it always did when rain blanketed the capital. Every vehicle moved in perfect silence, autonomously guided by the Mitera System Public Transport Services, the AI-regulated infrastructure designed to eliminate chemical waste. Only electric transports were permitted within the city's tightly controlled perimeter.
"Think, think, think… What's the last thing I remember from that night?" Nion muttered under her breath. "I saw Seànn in the forest… she told me to go back… and then I removed my Kanjöga—"
Her hand flew instinctively to her neck.
Empty.
Panicked, she began fumbling through her coat pockets, rain cascading down her face. She checked again—inside lining, sleeves, even the collar.
Nothing.
"Fuck… fuck, fuck—shit!" she hissed. "If he finds out I lost it abroad… that's going to be very bad."
The water clung to her skin, hair soaked and dripping into her eyes, but she barely noticed. The realization of what she'd misplaced—the one thing she was never supposed to lose—tightened her chest.
"I need to finish this damn exam and get back home now. Maybe I can still find it…"
With a final glance over her shoulder, she broke into a half-run, weaving through the crowd, her thoughts spinning as fast as her feet.
Evening had settled over the Grey City—that's what most locals called the capital now. Beneath the gleaming towers and ever-present surveillance, vehicles glided soundlessly over slick asphalt, their undercarriages illuminated by faint blue tracking lights. The wet streets shimmered under neon reflections. Small crowds gathered around massive public screens, mounted like totems on every block, pulsing with news flashes and state broadcasts. Dozens of augmented-reality holograms danced through the air, visible only to those wearing Kanjöga collars—advertising everything from cybernetic implants to beauty enhancements, instant meals to immersive entertainment.
"May I?" Mitera's voice chimed softly in her ear.
"Not now," Nion muttered, pacing beneath the curtain of rain. "Okay, what happened after that… I made it back to the village… and then—"
A surge of rage ripped through her like a lightning strike. Her jaw clenched, nostrils flared, and her teeth ground together in disgust as her mind replayed the image—the cross at the bonfire, and the grotesque message burned into its wood.
She froze.
Right in the middle of the street.
Electric vehicles glided to a seamless stop around her, headlights bathing her in white silence. The quiet hum of the Grey City fell away for a moment.
"My apologies for the interruption," Mitera said calmly.
"What?!" Nion exploded, her voice tearing into the static air.
Heads turned. Pedestrians stopped, staring at the drenched woman standing motionless beneath the neon mist. Her eyes shimmered with a sudden amethyst glow—raw, seething with hatred and spite. A fractured memory surfaced in her mind, vivid and visceral: the raid at the precipice of Clogwin.
Her hand shot toward her side.
But it touched nothing.
Her weapon—her blade—was gone. Of course it was. No Keepers were permitted to carry arms within the Grey City.
Still, the muscle memory refused to let go.
Her fingers twitched against the absence, aching for the steel that wasn't there.
"You have a new voice message. It's from Lady Seànn."
"A voice message? Nion blinked, realizing she was blocking the flow of traffic. "Then hurry up and play it!"
Mitera projected the message into her earpiece.
"Good evening. This is Seconda… Seànn. If you're listening to this, I hope you're doing better. I don't have much time, so I'll get straight to the point. Back in Elpida, you mentioned the brother of the deceased child was being treated at a city hospital. Do you remember?"
"Uhh, 100% don't…" Nion murmured. Then it hit her. "OH SH—! How could I forget?!" She clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Don't worry. I looked into it. A 'Doctor Brun' had been overseeing his care—he owes me a few favors, so we managed to make arrangements."
"Please give me good news…" Nion whispered, barely containing her breath.
"The good news is—yes, I found him. Brown hair, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Brown eyes. Pale skin. I'm confident it's the same boy."
Nion exhaled deeply, her hands beginning to tremble—not from fear, but from overwhelming relief.
"So, yes. He's with me now. Safe."
"Seànn, you are such an angel… " Nion whispered, tears pricking her eyes as her chest eased with gratitude.
"But," Seànn continued, "there is some bad news. Due to cerebral shock, he's suffered partial memory loss."
There was a pause.
"It's not my place to ask, but… would you care to share what happened between the two of you?"
Nion flinched. An acoustic flash struck her—echoes of children's laughter, shrill and fleeting, mixed with the distant shrieks of a playground. For a heartbeat, it was all around her, bright and sharp, before dissolving into silence.
"Yes, Yassine. I'll be with you in just a moment," Seànn's voice continued, speaking off-mic to someone nearby. "He asked about his mother and brother. I told him someone who might have the answers is on her way. He's waiting for you."
"He… is waiting for me…" Nion whispered.
Her fleeting joy curdled, replaced by a cold weight that pressed against her chest. Flashbacks of Pipola's final moments cut into her mind with merciless clarity—the pleading eyes, the embrace of a mother shielding her children, the death Nion had delivered.
The realization hollowed her.
She wasn't just going to meet an orphaned boy. She was walking straight into the consequence of her actions, into the judgment of a child who had lost everything—mother and brother—because of her.
And she had no idea what to say. No words to explain. No way to make it right.
"So… I executed your mother, and a lunatic from Elpida crucified your brother…"
The words fell from Nion's lips in a hollow murmur—bitter, unfiltered, and aimed at no one but herself. Self-pity twisted through her voice, but it couldn't soften the truth. That was the reality she would eventually have to explain… to a child. An orphan.
Her gaze drifted, unfocused. Then a strange clarity struck her.
"I'm talking to myself so much lately…" she muttered, realizing how easily thoughts became words now. "All these emotions—I've never felt them like this before. Is it because I'm not wearing my Kanjöga?"
She touched her bare neck, still surprised by the absence of the collar.
"But then… if I'm feeling things I didn't before, who was I when I wore it? And who am I now?"
Her voice fell to a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
"I am I still the same person…"
"When you feel up to it, head to Némless. It's a small village, about six hours from the capital. I'm sending you the coordinates now. And just a warning—if you've never been there, keep your Kanjöga hidden and wear something casual. Leave your Keeper uniform behind. Most locals are rebels or Metro sympathizers. They're good people, but… better not to draw attention."
"Némless..." Nion whispered with sudden wonder. ", Némless it is then..."
She stood for a moment in the street, the hum of the city around her, the rain now a soft mist. She could feel the rhythm of movement—life surging all around—and something inside her shifted.