Cain Ashford stood on the porch of his new home and looked at the sky.
The three moons were still there. The ash was still grey. The air was still silent.
He took a slow, deep breath. The air was crisp, clean, and entirely devoid of the smell of stale coffee and industrial-strength floor cleaner. It was the best air he had ever tasted.
"Not bad," Cain whispered. "For a first draft, it's a solid B-plus."
He turned around to look at the house he had just manifested. On the drafting table, he had drawn a simple square with a triangle on top. He wanted a one-bedroom cabin. Something efficient. Something easy to sweep.
What stood before him was a sturdy structure of dark, weathered wood and heavy river stone. It looked cozy. It looked small.
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE ACHIEVED: FIRST WORLD-ANCHOR CONSTRUCTION!]
[TITLE EARNED: UNWITTING ARCHITECT!]
[RANK: LEGENDARY!]
[REWARD: 5,000 CREDITS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR ACCOUNT!]
Cain ignored the blinking green box. He had worked in corporate analysis long enough to recognize the "gamification" trap. Give the employee a digital badge so they don't notice the lack of a holiday bonus. It was a classic retention strategy.
"Save it for the performance review," Cain muttered.
He stepped back into the house.
He had designed the interior to be a single, open-plan room. A bed in the corner, a small table, and a kitchenette. Maximum efficiency for a single occupant who planned on doing as little moving as possible.
He walked toward the kitchen.
He walked for thirty seconds.
He stopped.
He looked back at the front door. It seemed much further away than it should have been. He looked at the bed in the other corner. It was across a vast expanse of polished hardwood that definitely hadn't been in his sketch.
"Wait," Cain said.
He walked back to the front door. It took him exactly ten steps.
He turned around and looked at the interior again. From the doorway, the house looked like a small, cramped cabin. The far wall was barely twenty feet away.
He stepped back inside.
The moment his feet crossed the threshold, the space stretched. The ceiling vaulted upward, supported by massive timber beams that glowed with a faint, internal light. The "small kitchenette" was now a professional-grade culinary workspace with marble countertops that seemed to go on forever.
He looked at the bed. It was no longer a twin-sized mattress with a thin blanket. It was a massive, king-sized platform covered in furs that looked like they had been harvested from creatures that didn't exist yet.
"System," Cain said, his voice echoing in the vast space. "What is this?"
[IT IS YOUR RESIDENCE, LANDLORD!]
"I drew a square," Cain said, gesturing at the impossible geometry. "This is not a square. This is an architectural violation. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen."
[YOU DREW THE 'CONCEPT' OF A HOME, ARCHITECT!]
[SECTOR ZERO RESPONDS TO YOUR INTENT, NOT YOUR POOR ARTISTIC SKILLS!]
[THE SPACE IS FOLDED TO ENSURE MAXIMUM COMFORT!]
"I don't want maximum comfort if I have to walk a mile to get to the fridge," Cain argued. "This is inefficient. I wanted passive living, not a cardio workout."
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ENABLE: SHORT-DISTANCE TELEPORTATION RUGS?]
"Is it free?"
[CONSTRUCTION COST: 200 CREDITS.]
"No. I'll just walk. But I'm logging this as a defect."
Cain sighed and sat down on the bed. The furs were softer than anything he had ever touched. They seemed to hum beneath him, vibrating at a frequency that made his muscles relax instantly.
He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the silence.
Then, he remembered the shadow on the ash.
The "guest."
Cain stood up and walked back to the porch. He moved quickly, the house sensing his intent and shortening the hallway back to the door so that he reached it in three steps.
"At least it's adaptive," he conceded.
The woman was still there.
She had managed to crawl another five feet. She was now at the edge of the porch, her silver hair spilling over the grey stone. One of her hands was clutching the bottom step.
Her fingers were long and slender, ending in nails that looked like they were carved from obsidian. They were trembling.
Cain looked down at her.
Up close, the wounds were terrifying. They weren't just cuts. They were jagged rips in her very form, as if someone had tried to erase her from reality using a dull knife. Where there should have been flesh, there was only a swirling, hungry darkness that seemed to be eating its way inward.
[WARNING: GUEST SOUL INTEGRITY AT 0.04%!]
[EXISTENCE FAILURE IMMINENT!]
"She looks like she's had a worse week than I did," Cain muttered.
He reached down and gripped her under the arms.
He expected her to be heavy. She was an ancient entity, after all. But as he lifted her, she felt lighter than a handful of ash. It was as if she was losing her weight, her substance, and her history all at once.
He carried her into the house.
The house responded immediately. A long, soft sofa materialized near the fireplace. Cain laid her down on it.
"System, do I have a first aid kit?"
[PROCESSING...]
[NO MEDICAL SUPPLIES FOUND IN CURRENT INVENTORY.]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO PURCHASE: PRIMORDIAL REGENERATION BALM (COST: 50,000 CREDITS)?]
"Fifty thousand?" Cain scoffed. "I have five thousand five hundred. Do you have anything in my price range?"
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO PURCHASE: BASIC BANDAGES (COST: 5 CREDITS)?]
"Will they work?"
[THEY ARE MADE OF COTTON.]
Cain looked at the gaping holes in the woman's existence. Bandages weren't going to do it.
He looked at his kitchen. There was a sink with a copper faucet.
"Is the water drinkable?"
[THE WATER IS PURIFIED ESSENCE FROM THE SECTOR CORE.]
"Good enough."
Cain walked to the kitchen and grabbed a clean rag from a drawer. He soaked it under the tap. The water felt cold, but it also felt... heavy. It sparkled with a soft, blue light.
He walked back to the woman.
She was gasping now. Her purple eyes were open, but they weren't seeing the room. They were staring into a void that Cain couldn't imagine.
"Hey," Cain said, his voice calm. "You're off the clock. Just relax."
He began to wipe the ash from her forehead.
The moment the wet rag touched her skin, the System went into a frenzy.
[WARNING! ARCHITECT INTERFERENCE DETECTED!]
[USER IS APPLYING: RAW CONCEPTUAL PURITY TO A VOID-CORRUPTED ENTITY!]
[SOUL REWRITING IN PROGRESS...]
Cain ignored the boxes. He was focused on the task. Back at the firm, he had been required to take a three-hour "Workplace Safety and Basic Life Support" seminar every year. He hated those seminars. They were a waste of time.
But he remembered the instructor's voice.
"Clean the wound. Apply pressure. Keep the patient warm."
Cain wiped the glowing water across the jagged gashes in the woman's side.
As he moved the rag, the swirling darkness didn't just wash away. It dissolved. The water from the sink seemed to act like a universal solvent, breaking down the void and replacing it with something solid. Something real.
The wounds didn't scab over. They vanished.
The silver hair lost its matting and began to shine like polished mercury. The starlight blood retreated back into her veins.
[SOUL INTEGRITY RESTORED TO 100%!]
[GUEST STATUS: STABLE.]
[USER HAS ACHIEVED: MIRACLE OF THE FIRST RESIDENT!]
[REWARD: 10,000 CREDITS!]
Cain threw the dirty rag into a bucket.
"There," he said, wiping his hands on his tunic. "Basic first aid. Not that hard."
The woman's breathing slowed. It became rhythmic. Deep.
She blinked. The glazed look in her eyes cleared. She looked up at the vaulted ceiling, then at the fireplace, and finally at Cain.
She didn't speak. She just stared at him.
She looked like she was trying to calculate a number that didn't exist.
Cain sat down in a wooden chair next to the sofa. He leaned back and crossed his legs.
"You feeling better?" he asked.
The woman sat up slowly. Her movements were fluid, like water. She looked down at her side, where the holes in her reality had been. She touched the smooth, unscarred skin.
"You..." she started. Her voice was like the sound of a bell ringing in a deep cavern. "You reached into the Void."
"I used a wet rag," Cain corrected. "It was getting ash everywhere."
The woman looked at the bucket, then back at Cain. Her expression was one of absolute, unshielded shock.
"I was consumed," she whispered. "I was erased. The entropy of the outer reaches had claimed me. No god, no creator, no primordial force could have pulled me back."
Cain waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, well, I've worked for some real monsters. A little entropy isn't that scary compared to a manager who wants a weekend report on Friday at 5:00 PM."
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
"I'm Cain," he said. "I'm the landlord here."
"Landlord?"
"I own the place," Cain said, gesturing to the house. "Or at least, I rent it out. You're my first guest. Normally, I'd charge a deposit, but you looked like you were having a rough day, so I'll waive the fee for the first night."
The woman stood up. She was taller than he expected. She moved with an authority that suggested she had once ruled something vast and terrible.
She looked around the room. She saw the kitchen with the glowing water. She saw the bed with the humming furs. She saw the drafting table by the window.
She turned back to Cain.
Then, she did something that made him very uncomfortable.
She knelt.
She didn't just bow. She dropped to her knees, her forehead touching the plush rug.
"Master of the Sector," she said. "I am Velara. I have wandered the darkness for an eternity, seeking a light that did not burn. I have found it here."
"Whoa, whoa," Cain said, standing up. "Get up. None of that. We don't do the 'Master' thing here. It's weird."
Velara looked up, her purple eyes shimmering with a mix of awe and confusion. "You saved my existence. You rewrote my soul with a gesture. You have granted me sanctuary in the heart of the Origin."
"I gave you a couch and a glass of water," Cain said. "It's basic hospitality. Look, if you want to stay, that's fine. I have plenty of space. But I'm going to be honest with you."
Cain leaned in, his expression becoming very serious.
"I am a very lazy man, Velara. I don't want to cook. I don't want to clean. I don't want to manage the 'passive income' the System keeps shouting about."
Velara tilted her head. "You wish for... service?"
"I wish for an employee," Cain said. "Someone to handle the day-to-day operations so I can take a nap that lasts longer than twenty minutes. You need a place to stay. I need a head maid. It's a fair trade."
[PROPOSAL DETECTED: EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT!]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ESTABLISH: FAIR WAGE POLICY?]
"Yes," Cain said to the box. "Five hundred credits a month, plus room and board. Full dental. And she gets every other Sunday off."
Velara stared at him. To an ancient void entity, the concept of "dental" was entirely alien. But she understood the core of the offer.
She was being offered a home. She was being offered a name. She was being offered a life that wasn't a constant struggle against the dark.
"I accept," she said softly.
"Great," Cain said, heading back toward the big, soft bed. "The cleaning supplies are in the kitchen. Don't wake me up unless the planet is actually exploding. And even then, check if it can wait until morning."
He collapsed onto the furs.
Within seconds, the Landlord of Existence was fast asleep.
Velara stood in the middle of the impossible house. She looked at the kitchen, then at the man snoring on the platform.
She picked up the bucket and the rag.
"He is completely unaware," she whispered to the fire. "He has the power of the Creator in his hands, and he uses it to avoid doing chores."
She smiled. It was the first time she had smiled in a hundred thousand years.
"It is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen."
She began to clean.