Riri pushed off the window, her boots silent against the marble. The penthouse stretched out behind her—all sharp edges and minimalist brutality, exactly the kind of space someone with money and no time would choose.
She needed to inventory what she had.
The leather jacket first. She picked it up, running her fingers over the material. Real leather, supple and broken-in, with reinforced panels at the shoulders and elbows. Tactical-grade. The kind of thing that cost more than her old laptop.
She slipped it on. It fit better now—still loose, but not drowning her the way it had when her Strength was at 3. The weight settled across her shoulders like armor.
The pockets were empty except for a single object in the inner lining: a matte black card with gold script.
[Apex Towers Resident Access - Penthouse 2A]
[Riri Lee - Authorized Tenant]
So this place was actually hers. Or the original Riri's, at least.
She pocketed the card and moved through the space systematically, opening drawers, checking cabinets. The kitchen was pristine—unused, stocked with expensive appliances that had never been turned on.
The bedroom was worse.
A king-sized platform bed with sheets that probably cost more than a month's rent. A walk-in closet filled with clothes still tagged, never worn. Designer labels she recognized from magazine spreads—silk blouses, tailored pants, dresses that looked like they required a team to put on.
All of it pristine. Untouched. Like the original Riri had been collecting a wardrobe for a life she never actually lived.
Riri ran her hand along the hanging garments, feeling the quality of the fabric. Cashmere. Silk. Leather softer than the jacket she was wearing.
None of it practical. None of it designed for survival.
She moved to the dresser. Three drawers of undergarments—lace, silk, things meant to be seen and admired. The fourth drawer held accessories: watches, jewelry, hair ties bundled in velvet pouches.
The bathroom was marble and chrome, dominated by a tub large enough to drown in. The counter held an array of skincare products, each bottle more expensive than the last. She picked one up, reading the label.
Anti-aging serum. Imported. Limited edition.
The original Riri had been nineteen.
Riri set the bottle down carefully, her jaw tight.
She checked the kitchen again, pulling open drawers with more force than necessary. Utensils. Serving spoons. A knife block that held exactly six blades—each one decorative, weighted wrong, designed for julienning vegetables instead of splitting skulls.
Riri tested one anyway, feeling the balance shift awkwardly in her grip. The edge was sharp enough, but the handle was too light, the blade too thin. It would snap on bone.
She set it down harder than intended, the clatter loud in the empty space.
"System," she said, an edge creeping into her voice. "Do I get a starter package or something? Anything useful?"
[Hmm! Standard Integration includes basic clothing and one week's worth of ration bars. However, Host's predecessor already consumed her rations during the Stasis Event. This unit apologizes for the oversight!]
"So I have nothing."
[Not nothing! You have a luxury penthouse, a fabulous wardrobe, and—]
"I have decorative knives and silk pajamas." Riri's knuckles went white against the counter edge. "I'm supposed to fight monsters in thirty-six hours and I don't even have a weapon that won't break on contact."
The system went quiet at that…for exactly 3 seconds.
[Oh! Oh! Host, please return to the bedroom closet!]
The sudden enthusiasm made Riri's eye twitch.
"Why?"
[This unit just accessed the penthouse inventory logs! The previous Riri Lee had a delivery three days before Integration. Check behind the mink coat—far right corner!]
Riri made her way back to the bedroom, boots heavy against hardwood. The closet stretched before her, a wall of untouched luxury. She pushed past the hanging garments until she found it—a full-length mink in cream white, the kind of coat that cost more than a car.
She shoved it aside.
Behind it, mounted on the wall in a climate-controlled glass case, was a blade.
Not decorative. Not ornamental.
A tactical combat knife with a matte black finish, the kind that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. The edge caught the overhead lighting at a wicked angle. Beside it, a leather thigh holster.
Riri pressed her palm against the glass, feeling the cool surface.
"The original Riri bought a blade?"
[Apparently she wasn't completely unprepared! Shall we open it?]
Riri studied the case, looking for a release mechanism. No lock. No keypad. Just a seamless edge where the glass met the wall.
She pressed her thumb against the corner and felt it give with a soft click.
The case swung open.
The knife was heavier than she expected—solid, well-balanced, the grip textured for stability. She turned it over in her hands, checking the edge. Sharp enough to split paper. The spine was reinforced, designed to take impact without snapping.
Professional grade. Military, maybe.
[Ooh! May this unit scan it?]
"Go ahead."
A pulse of gold light washed over the blade.
[Item Identified: Tactical Combat Knife]
[Rarity: Common]
[Damage: 15-22 (Slashing)]
[Durability: 87/100]
[Special Effect: None]
[Note: Standard issue equipment. Reliable but unexceptional. Suitable for Level 1-5 encounters.]
Common rarity. No special effects. But it was sharp, and it wouldn't shatter the first time she hit something solid.
Riri strapped the thigh holster on, adjusting the buckles until it sat snug against her tactical pants. The knife slid into place with a whisper of leather.
Better than decorative kitchen knives.
Riri drew the knife again, testing the motion. Smooth. Quick. The weight felt good in her hand.
Then she realized she had no idea what to do with it beyond "stab the monster."
Her editor brain supplied unhelpful images from the novel—dramatic combat scenes with protagonists who somehow knew exactly where to cut, how to parry, when to dodge. Characters who wielded blades like extensions of their bodies instead of sharp objects they were trying not to drop.
She was not that person.
She'd never held a weapon before today. Never trained. The closest she'd come to combat was aggressive copy-editing.
"System," she said, sliding the knife back into its holster before she accidentally stabbed herself. "Do you offer basic weapons training? Videos? Tutorials?"
[Hmm! This unit does not have integrated training modules. However...]
A pause. The interface shimmered.
[Host could access the old Earth internet archives! Would you like this unit to establish a connection?]
Riri blinked. "You can use the Internet?"
[Of course! All pre-Integration data was preserved during the Stasis Event. Think of it as a very extensive library!]
"The internet would survive an apocalypse," Riri muttered, her tone flat enough to cut glass.
[It did! Quite literally! ♡]
She ignored the cheerful heart symbol.
"Fine. Access the best video for knife combat training. Basic fundamentals. Something that won't get me killed in the first thirty seconds."
[Searching now!]
The gold interface rippled, text scrolling too fast to read. After a moment, a new window materialized in her vision—a video player with a frozen thumbnail showing a man in tactical gear standing in what looked like a training gym.
["Tactical Knife Combat: Fundamentals for Survival Situations" - Duration: 47 minutes - Instructor: Former Special Forces]
[This video has been rated highest for beginner-level instruction with practical application focus. Shall this unit play it?]
Riri glanced around the penthouse. Plenty of open floor space. Marble that wouldn't scuff. No furniture to accidentally stab.
She drew the knife again, feeling the grip settle into her palm.
"Play it."
The video started, the instructor's voice crisp and professional in her ears.
"First rule of knife fighting: don't get into a knife fight. Second rule: if you have to, end it fast."