Kenji P O.V
Sleep found me without a struggle, a deep and dreamless descent into peace I hadn't known since before the world ended. My body, newly whole and free from the constant ache of survival, had simply shut down, giving in to a profound exhaustion. I had forgotten to eat, forgotten to even think about food, the simple luxury of a soft bed and a hot shower enough to overwhelm every other need.
I woke to the soft hum of the hotel's systems, the morning light filtering through the window, a gentle warmth on my face. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand a small, modern device I hadn't noticed before told me I had slept for nearly sixteen hours.
My stomach, long accustomed to a persistent emptiness, now rumbled with a hunger that was not born of desperation but of genuine anticipation. The memory of the fully stocked refrigerator flooded my mind, a mental image so vivid it made my mouth water.
I threw off the covers and strode into the kitchen, the marble floor cool and smooth beneath my feet.
This was real. The fridge was still there, a silent sentinel of plenty. I opened it, the cool air washing over me, and my eyes fell on a carton of fresh eggs. It felt almost sacrilegious to break one. I pulled out a few eggs, some bacon, and a loaf of bread that looked and smelled fresh.
As I cooked, the aroma of sizzling bacon and toasting bread filled the air, a scent I had not experienced in years. The simple act of preparing a meal, of choosing what to eat instead of just eating what I could find, felt more significant than any battle I had ever won.
After devouring the meal, I stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes by hand even though I knew the system could probably do it for me. It was a small act of normalcy, a grounding ritual in a world that had become anything but. The water was hot, the soap smelled of lemon, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt like a human being again.
I headed to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I passed. For three years, I had been a ghost, my face gaunt, my eyes hollow, my body a collection of scars and fading bruises. Now, the man looking back was... different. He was me, but a version I hadn't seen in a long time.
My light, cocoa-ish skin, with the subtle pale undertone of my East Asian heritage, no longer had a sallow, sickly tint. My big, dough-like eyes, once sunken and weary, now held a clear light. My body, though slim, was firm and well-proportioned, with a small waist that was a testament to a healthy metabolism, not starvation. At 5'9", I felt taller, stronger. It was a good body, a body I could be proud of, a body I could live in again.
I spent a few minutes splashing water on my face, the cool sensation a stark contrast to the burning pain I'd grown used to. After I was clean, I moved to the walk-in closet, pulling on a pair of soft jeans and a simple cotton shirt. The clothes were new, clean, and fit perfectly. I had a whole wardrobe to choose from. It was just another surreal detail in this new life, a life where my old clothes, once a point of pride, were just a pile of shredded, bloody rags now.
I looked at my reflection one last time, a ghost of a smile on my face. This was me now. Not just a survivor, but a host, a manager, a partner to a system that had given me a second chance. The past was still a part of me, a scar I carried on my soul, but I was no longer a victim. I was the master of my own fate, and I was ready to face whatever came next.
{A potential guest is outside.} The System's voice, a cold and crystalline sound, cut through my thoughts like a blade.
My heart, which had just found a rhythm of peace, began to pound. A guest. The word felt both foreign and heavy. This was it—the first test of the new reality I had been granted. The past betrayal still haunted me, a cold ember in the back of my mind. Who would this person be? A weary survivor, or a wolf in sheep's clothing? The fragile peace of my new sanctuary was about to be broken.
I quickly tapped the brand on my palm, the transparent interface flickering to life, showing a live feed of the lobby. I saw a young woman standing just outside the grand glass doors, peering in, her expression a mix of awe and caution. I took a deep breath, the taste of bacon still on my tongue, and stepped out of my room, ready to meet the first visitor to the Phoenix Hotel.
As I walked toward the front doors, the woman flinched and took a step back. She was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with a lean, athletic build. Her clothes were a patchwork of different fabrics, worn and stained with the grime of the road.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and a large, jagged scar ran down the side of her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her jacket. She was dirty, exhausted, and held herself with a weary stiffness that spoke of years spent on the run.
I stopped before the doors, and with a silent thought, they slid open. The woman's eyes widened at the sight of me, her hand instinctively going to a rusted knife tucked into her belt. Her eyes, a sharp, piercing green, were wide with a mix of surprise and suspicion. She took a step back, her body coiled like a spring, ready to fight or flee.
"Don't worry," I said, holding my hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Kenji. I run this place—The Phoenix Hotel." I gestured to the pristine lobby behind me. "Welcome."
She lowered her knife a fraction, her eyes still narrowed. "A hotel? In a city full of… that?" She gestured vaguely toward the outside, where the groans of the undead could still be heard, a low, constant murmur.
"I have my ways," I said, a line I had practiced in my head. "But there are rules. You've been here for a few minutes. You have twenty-seven minutes left to register, or you'll be... gently but firmly ejected."
Her eyebrows shot up, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. "Ejected? What does that even mean?"
"It means you'll find yourself back outside the safety barrier of this hotel, with all your belongings," I explained, the System's voice echoing in my mind as I spoke. "But before you do anything, you need to understand the rules." I gestured to a large, polished board that hung just behind the front desk, its elegant script a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
"The rules are clear," I continued, my voice firm. "Don't make unnecessary noise. No fighting. You must pay to stay. Be nice to the staff. And, most importantly, do not try to harm the owner." I let the last rule hang in the air for a moment, my eyes meeting hers, a silent warning passing between us.
"The first rule is simple: you have to pay to stay. The only currency accepted here are Crystal Cores."
She scoffed, a short, humorless sound. "Crystal Cores? You're telling me you've got a luxury hotel running on glowing rocks?"
"Well they're pretty much universal currency now" I replied, a small, tired smile forming on my face. "Believe me. This place runs on them, and so do I." I paused for a moment, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Now, you have a choice. You can walk away and go back to what's out there. Or you can come in, follow the rules, and find a safe place to rest your head."
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting from me to the pristine lobby, a silent struggle playing out on her face. Her exhaustion seemed to win out over her suspicion. "What do I do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Go to the registration terminal," I said, gesturing to the sleek black machine. "Place your hand on the pad. To register and If you have enough Crystal Cores, you'll be able to stay."
She walked past me, her body tense, but her eyes held a spark of hope I hadn't seen in years. She approached the terminal and placed her palm on the pad. A soft chime sounded, and a faint golden brand shimmered on her skin for a few seconds before fading. Her eyes widened, a look of awe replacing her suspicion.
"What was that?" she whispered.
I ignored her and tapped the brand on my own palm, and my transparent screen flickered to life. The feed showed the woman's name, Chaewon Kim, her current status as a guest, and for special ability, None.
I glanced up at her as she stood at the desk, looking at the terminal. Her face was a mask of confusion, a look that would soon turn to shock.
"The brand has a few quirks," I said, leaning on the desk. "First, our currency. Crystal Cores have levels. The system grades them from 1 to 10. A Level 1 Crystal Core is worth 100 points. A Level 2 is worth 1,000 points. A Level 3, 10,000 points. It keeps going up from there. These points pay for everything: your room, your food, your laundry, and anything else you need."
She listened intently, her brow furrowed. Nodding, I continued, "The daily cost of a basic room, which includes your utilities and laundry services, is 20 points for a single room and 50 points for a double room. We currently have 15 rooms available. A meal from the vending machine is 15 points. So, a Level 1 Crystal Core can get you a few days' stay without food."
The look on her face was one of acknowledgment. "What if I don't have enough or run out of points?"
"You'll be ejected," I said, my voice gentle but firm. "The rules are the rules." My voice hardened slightly in the latter half, but softened somewhat as my eyes fell on her worn-out backpack. "I'm not a charity. I'm a business owner, and this is a transaction. You're getting safety, and in return, you're promising to pay me. Now, let's get those cores loaded."
Chaewon placed the three Level 1 Crystal Cores on her brand at my instructions, and they vanished in a flash of golden light. Her brand shimmered again, and a screen hologram from her brand appeared, showing her name, status, and a balance of 300 points. She stared at the It, her mouth agape.
"That's how it works," I said, gesturing to the screen. "Your brand is your key, your wallet, and your communication device. You'll use it to pay for things, to open your room, and to check your balance. You can also use it to communicate with me and other guests and to see announcements from the hotel. Now."
I said, my eyes falling on her curious face, "let's get you set up with your room."
I tapped the brand on my own palm, and the screen flickered to life. I selected a room and the screen displayed a floor plan with a small, clean room highlighted. "This is one of the rooms you can choose from. We have single rooms for 20 points a night and double rooms for 50.
Each room has its own bathroom with its own cleaning water, a kettle to boil hot water, a wall port for putting your laundry in, and a small trash can that empties automatically," I said, she pointed to a room and it highlighted.
"Okay, this one. This one is A-1 on the second floor. Just tap your brand on the door, select the number of nights, and it will tell you the total you'll pay for it and then it will open. Welcome to the Phoenix Hotel, Miss Kim."