Back in the real world, Leonel had just stepped out of the shower when his phone started buzzing non-stop. He groaned the moment he saw the name flashing on the screen.
Mom.
"Geh . . ." He hesitated but knew better. If he didn't answer, she'd just keep calling until sunrise.
"What took you so long to pick up the goddamn phone?!"
Leonel winced and held the phone a little farther from his ear. His energy was already draining from his mother's high-pitched voice.
"I was taking a bath, Mom."
"Taking a bath? Why didn't you call us the moment you arrived? Don't tell me you already blew your money partying in the city!"
Leonel rubbed his temple. "Mom, I just got here. And I don't even drink, remember? I get rashes after a single shot."
HIs mother ignored him completely and jumped to another topic. "I don't know what's gotten into you—wanting to go to college when you're not even that smart. You're wasting money and time! You could've just worked here at the factory with us. Then we'd have more savings for your sister's education."
Here it comes. The classic comparison.
"Your sister is smarter, more charming, and she'll actually go places! But nooo—my son has to go chase some stupid degree he'll never finish. Mark my words, you'll come home crying in a few months saying 'college is hard!'"
Leonel's face twisted in frustration. "Mom, I'm going to college for you guys. So I can get a better job, a better salary. I'll work part-time to cover my expenses. You don't need to worry."
"How can we not worry when you're an idiot and a klutz?!"
"Mom!" Leonel groaned, slumping against the wall. "You can't just insult your own son like that. Shouldn't parents support their kid's dreams?"
"Support?!" Juliet scoffed. "That's a privilege for the rich! We can't afford dreams, Leonel. We only have bills and deadlines. You think we can waste time and money on something that's not even guaranteed?"
"Ah—Mom, I gotta go!" Leonel said in a rush. "My cat just jumped out the window!"
"What cat?! You're allergic to—"
Tuut!
Leonel ended the call, threw his phone face-down on the bed, and let out a long breath. "Out of sight, out of mind," he muttered, stretching his arms.
He got dressed and stepped out for his first night of work.
Before even entering Zone A, Leonel had already sent out job applications to several convenience stores nearby. Thankfully, one had accepted him—just a short thirty-minute walk from his dorm and school.
It was his first real job in the big city. Spring nights here were warm and heavy, the air thick with humidity. The city's built-in air filters helped, but without them, it would've been unbearable—just like in Zone C, where the pollution clung to your lungs.
He followed the glowing map on his phone, the digital arrows leading him through clean streets and neon-lit walkways. When he finally spotted the store's sign, he stopped in front of its floor-to-ceiling glass facade.
Inside, shelves stood perfectly aligned under the white fluorescent lights. The place was spotless—no cashiers in sight, only self-service machines humming quietly.
Leonel smiled faintly. "So this is the future, huh?"
Just as he reached for the revolving glass door, it swung open from the inside—fast. He jerked backward just in time, avoiding a direct hit to the nose.
A boy around his teens stormed out, clutching a duffel bag. His face was red with frustration, his teeth biting hard into his lip.
Leonel blinked. "Wait a sec . . . isn't that—?"
He recognized him. The kid from the restaurant—the one arguing with Lira over a table!
Before Leonel could call out, a young woman ran after the boy, waving something in her hand.
"Roz! You forgot your hat!"
But Roz didn't turn back. He just kept walking, head down, shoulders slumped, disappearing into the busy street.
The girl slowed to a stop, clutching the hat to her chest. "Roz . . . ," she whispered softly, sadness in her eyes.
Leonel approached her carefully. "Uh, excuse me . . . what happened to that kid?"
The girl looked up and blinked. She wasn't short by any means, but Leonel's towering height made her eyes widen for a second before she recovered.
"Oh, you mean Roz?" she sighed, shaking her head. "He was one of our best staff members—hardworking, polite, always early. But then . . . some jerk posted a video online."
"A video?"
"Yeah." She frowned, frustration dripping from her tone. "It was one of those influencers. She was crying on camera about how she got the wrong table or whatever, and people started taking her side. The video blew up, and then somehow, Roz's picture started circulating online!"
Leonel frowned. "Why him?"
"I don't know!" she said helplessly. "But our store started getting flooded with bad reviews, calls, and hate messages. The manager panicked and—" she sighed again "—fired Roz this afternoon. Just like that."
Her voice cracked a little at the end. "He didn't even fight back. He just packed up and left."
Leonel's chest tightened. He didn't know Roz personally, but something about it felt unfair. The kid was probably just doing his job, yet one viral post was enough to ruin him.
The girl kept talking, but Leonel barely heard her after one word caught his attention.
Influencer.
He immediately pulled out his phone and opened the trending feed. His fingers flew over the search bar.
A few seconds later, his eyes widened.
There it was—#PoorLira—sitting at the top of the local trending list.
The thumbnail showed Lira sitting in that same restaurant, tears welling in her eyes, with a shaky caption below it:
"They kicked me out of my favorite table . . . all because I wasn't rich enough."
Leonel felt his stomach drop. "Oh, crap . . ."
Roz's name was already in the comments—tagged, blamed, and torn apart by thousands of strangers.
He could only stare at his screen, the glow of it reflecting off his uneasy face.
The city never slept, and neither did the internet.
And tonight . . . both had found a new victim.