The apartment was quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you notice every flicker of light, every groan of the old pipes, every hum of the city beyond the walls. I slipped inside, boots careful on the creaking floorboards. Something felt… off.
Click. A faint metallic sound from the corner of the room.
A note. Or maybe it had been there all along, waiting for me to notice. I crouched, tracing the pattern etched into the edge of a discarded ledger on the desk. Subtle, clever impossible unless you were looking for it. My pulse quickened.
"Your survival amuses me. Continue."
The words were simple. Clean. But underneath, every letter carried weight, every space a threat. Someone had been watching me. Everything I'd done, every turn, every misstep, every false step it had been anticipated.
I let out a dry laugh, muttered to the shadows: "Well, that's reassuring. I always wanted to be a puppet in a very expensive game."
A hum from the old air conditioner vibrated through the room, low and constant. It might as well have been the Architect's heartbeat.
I ran my fingers over the message again, trying to see beyond the words. No fingerprints, no signs of hurried delivery. Precise. Intentional. Almost personal. This wasn't a random threat. This was a demonstration a statement that I was already inside the web.
"Every man for himself, except me" I muttered, tasting the bitter irony. "Yeah, well… every man for him seems more accurate."
I glanced around the room. Nothing had changed. Everything looked the same. And yet, nothing was the same. Every shadow, every flicker of light suddenly felt like it had a purpose, like it had been arranged just for me to notice or just for me to think I noticed.
I straightened, letting the tension coil in my chest. They wanted me on edge. They wanted me reactive. Predictable. But I wasn't there yet. Not fully. Not completely.
A faint squeak from the floorboards near the window reminded me: I was never truly alone. Never had been. Every step, every decision, every alliance it had been watched, measured, catalogued. And now, the Architect had made the rules explicit.
I folded the note, slipping it into my jacket. Survival wasn't optional anymore. Awareness was mandatory. And the game? The game had just escalated.
I exhaled slowly, the city's hum a soft backdrop to my thoughts. The next move was mine. But every move would be under the Architect's gaze. And I had no illusions about the stakes anymore.