Linkon City rose like a neon mirage—distant, humming, too bright after the blackout emptiness of the N109 Zone. By the time Elara and I stepped off the transport, the world felt both familiar and wrong, like a game map running slightly altered assets.
It didn't take long for me to catch the punchline: the game had put me in the same apartment building as Elara.
Of course it had.
And Xavier lived there too—the golden-boy love interest. Polite. Predictable. About as exciting as beige paint drying. In the game he'd always been my least favorite—nothing wrong with him, just… no spark. The safe route. The backup plan.
I checked the directory.
Diana Vale — Apartment 1011.
The moment my fingers brushed the panel, the digital lock clicked open.
No scan. No beep. It just… recognized me.
My Evol? Maybe.
Thank God it wasn't a physical key. I wasn't sure my ribs could handle a side quest.
The apartment was surprisingly nice. Clean lines, warm lighting, soft fabrics. Cozy urban minimalism—curated without feeling artificial.
I liked it.
A real bed. A real shower.
The first blast of hot water nearly knocked me out, but it washed rooftop dust, dried blood, and the lingering static of Sylus's presence off my skin. When I stepped out, the mirror hadn't fogged.
Anti-fog tech. Fancy.
A phone lay on the nightstand—sleek, black, humming faintly.
I picked it up.
The screen lit instantly.
No password. No biometrics. But not unsecured.
It simply knew me.
My Evol again?
Maybe.
The files, the notes, the layout—everything aligned effortlessly with my preferences. Someone had coded this world down to the bone.
I set an alarm for morning, collapsed into bed, and let exhaustion swallow me whole.
No dreams.
—
Buzz.
Something rattled impatiently against the nightstand.
I pried my eyes open.
Barely.
My ribs hurt. My head hurt. Everything hurt.
But dread woke first.
A notification glowed across the lock screen:
Unknown Number: Did you decide to survive?
I didn't need a sender ID.
Some things announced themselves.
My pulse kicked—sharp, sudden—not from fear, but inevitability.
Sylus had wanted an answer by morning.
I thought of Elara—her face when she repeated Viktor's words. The way her voice tightened. Not fear of Sylus.
Something worse.
Normally, I trusted my own instincts—make your own read, gather your own data.
But this time?
I had nothing.
I had never truly met Viktor. Only felt that momentary signal—his mind reaching, probing, taunting—before vanishing like switching off a light.
Elara and Sylus had both reacted to him. Not the same way, but with the same warning:
Don't underestimate him.
And they were characters I knew. Personalities intact despite everything. Reactions consistent. Internal logic unchanged.
In a world where my map was gone, they were the only bedrock I had.
Which meant—
I could trust them.
Even Sylus.
At least about this.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
My ribs throbbed with each breath.
Everything in me recoiled at the idea of stepping willingly under Sylus's control.
But survival wasn't metaphorical here.
It was literal.
I typed the only word that made sense.
Diana: yes
Sent.
The screen dimmed.
My fate updated.
The next step wasn't scripted anymore.
It was mine… mostly.
I set the phone down, shut my eyes, and let sleep drag me under again.
—
Sunlight bled through the blinds when I next woke—thin, silver stripes across the bed. My body felt like someone had reassembled it wrong. Every inhale scraped. My ribs burned.
I reached blindly for my phone.
Three messages from Elara.
Elara: Morning!! Are you okay? You didn't look great last night…
Elara: I mean—not "not great"—you looked okay, just hurt. A lot.
Elara: Okay I'm panicking. Please tell me you're awake.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Then I sat up—
And immediately regretted it.
Pain shot through my ribs so hard I saw stars. I hissed between my teeth.
I staggered to the mirror and lifted my shirt.
The bruise had bloomed overnight—an ugly wash of purple, black, and angry red. Worse than last night. Worse than expected.
Definitely not fine.
My phone buzzed again.
Elara: I have a friend at Akso Hospital. He can see you without an appointment.
I sighed.
Terrible idea.
Pain flared white-hot.
Diana: you're bossy in the morning
Instant reply.
Elara: You're hurt. I'm allowed to be bossy.
Fair enough.
Then:
Elara: Zayne is the best doctor there. He's really gentle. You'll like him.
I snorted.
Of course her friend was Zayne.
In the game he was my second-favorite love interest—right behind Sylus.
Tall. Black hair. Hazel-green eyes. Silver wireframe glasses. The calmest voice imaginable.
But romantically?
Pure friend energy. But I understood the appeal.
Still—if I had to be scanned and lectured…
At least the doctor was cute.
Diana: okay. I'll go. tell him to expect me
Elara: Already did! Text me when you're done okay?
Diana: yes mom
Elara: taking that as affection btw
I rolled my eyes but smiled, grabbed my jacket, and headed out.
NPC-of-the-day: Dr. Zayne.
—
Akso Hospital rose sleek and white against the late-morning haze—glass panels catching the light.
Inside, the lobby glowed with floating displays and the faint scent of antiseptic and citrus.
Zayne stood at the front desk.
Tall. Dark hair. Silver wireframe glasses low on his nose as he spoke quietly with the receptionist.
I understood why players fell for him.
And why I didn't.
I lifted a hand. "Hi. I'm Elara's friend. You must be the person she pestered into seeing me."
Both he and the receptionist looked up.
His eyes settled on me with clinical calm—taking in my posture, breathing pattern, pain level before I finished speaking.
"Diana Vale?"
"That's me."
He extended a hand. "It's good to meet you."
His handshake was careful not to jostle.
"Follow me," he said, and guided me into the hospital.
His office matched him—soft lighting, tidy stacks of documents, two thriving plants, a faint scent of coffee. A quiet, collected space.
"Sit here, please" he said, pulling on gloves.
I sat down and lifted my shirt enough to show the bruising and shallow cuts.
A tightening around his eyes. Subtle. Controlled.
"What caused this?"
"Building explosion. I was under a chandelier and was thrown against a pillar."
"On duty?"
"Yeah."
A pause.
"Was Elara there?"
I hesitated.
He caught it instantly.
His brows dipped—slight, but sharp. A protective reaction he quickly folded into professionalism.
"Yes," I said quietly.
"I see." He inhaled once, then tapped his tablet. Professional again. "We'll start with chest X-rays, then a CT scan to check for internal bleeding."
He didn't ask if I could walk.
He just slowed his pace to match mine.
—
The X-rays were quick. The CT buzzed through my bones.
When I stepped back into the hall, Zayne was already waiting—tablet in hand, glasses pushed up, expression unreadable but focused.
He motioned to a chair. "Have a seat."
I did.
He lowered the tablet.
"You have two cracked ribs."
Expected.
"And a small amount of internal bleeding," he added. "Not severe, but it requires monitoring. You continued physical strain after the injury."
"I didn't really have a choice," I muttered.
His brows tightened just barely—a flicker of disapproval, not at me, but at the circumstances I'd been forced through. Then it vanished behind his usual composure.
"I'm prescribing anti-inflammatories and a mild painkiller," he said. "You'll need rest. No combat or strenuous movement for a week."
I stared. "You remember my job, right?"
"I do." His tone was strict. "This is still the medical recommendation."
A beat.
"Right," I muttered.
He stood. "Let's get your prescriptions."
I rose slowly. He didn't offer an arm—he simply remained within reach, steady but non-intrusive.
Classic Zayne.
—
Back in the changing room, I slipped into my own clothes, wincing with every motion.
I reached for my phone.
It lit instantly.
Two messages from the contact I'd saved as Devil.
Devil: Are you conscious yet?
Devil: I'll send instructions later. Do not leave the city.
My stomach tightened.
A third arrived:
Devil: and stop aggravating your injuries.
I stared.
A dozen replies flashed through my mind:
I'm literally in a hospital.
How do you even know that??
You're insufferable. I quit.
Instead I typed:
Diana: not your concern
His reply was instant.
Devil: Incorrect.
The screen dimmed like it dismissed me.
I shoved the phone into my pocket, took a careful—painfull breath, and stepped out.
Zayne was waiting.
"Ready?" he asked, voice even.
I nodded.
He walked at my pace without comment.
At the pharmacy, he waited. When they handed me the meds, he set a bottle of water on the counter without a word.
"You should take the dose now," he said.
I swallowed the pills. He watched only long enough to confirm it, then turned toward the lobby.
"Any increase in pain, shortness of breath, or blood in your cough—call me." He handed me a small card. "Immediately."
"Got it."
Zayne's gaze flicked to mine—brief, assessing, sincere in a quiet way.
"Take care of yourself, Diana."
"I will. Thank you."
He nodded once, turned as a nurse called him, and walked away.
I stepped through the sliding doors.
My phone buzzed instantly.
Elara: I told you to tell me when you were done.
A beat.
Elara: why did you rat me out to Zayne?? I'm never hearing the end of it.
I smirked.
Diana: sorry. it slipped. I'll buy you dinner as thanks + sorry :)
Send.
The city hummed—bright, alive, deceptively normal.
And somewhere in it—
the Devil was waiting.