"The line dividing good and evil does not pass between states, nor between classes, nor between political parties. That line runs through the heart of every human being."— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
When Sloane closed her eyes, darkness did not come. Instead, there was sunlight.
A pleasant morning… A place that smelled of soil instead of concrete. She was lying among the grass. The sky was blue and cloudless. There was no sound of trains. No screaming. No system. Only the gentle whisper of the wind rustling through the leaves.
For a moment, she was truly there. Then the machine noise entered the dream. A deep, steady hum. Like a heartbeat. At first, she thought it was part of the dream. Then came the smell of cold metal. And pain. Sloane jolted awake.
She was staring at the ceiling. Rusted pipes, dim lamps powered by trembling generators… The generator room. The machines worked heavily, the walls vibrating slightly. She did not know when she had fallen asleep.
"Where am I—"
"You're safe, for now."
The voice came immediately. Deep and calm. Sloane turned her head. Evan was still leaning against the wall. In the same spot. Arms crossed over his chest. Eyes open.
"You fell asleep," he said. "About half an hour."
Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. "You… didn't leave?"
"I didn't."
"Why?"
Evan shrugged. "I didn't want to leave you alone while you were sleeping."
[Perspective triggered]
Inner monologue: Outside is dangerous. People are killing each other. Even if I look big and strong, one bullet is enough to kill me. I'm scared.
Evan's fear opened a cold hollow in Sloane's chest. Knowing that someone else also did not want to die gave her strength. The pain had not faded, but she forced a smile.
"Thank you. Chivalry isn't dead yet, I guess."
Evan laughed at the word chivalry, something that no longer belonged to this world. His tense shoulders dropped.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Sloane nodded. A wafer flew out of the shadows and landed in her lap, spinning in the air. Ah… chocolate. She tore it open and took a big bite. The sweet taste bursting in her mouth released all the exhausting and terrifying emotions she had been holding inside.
First came the sob. Then the tears.
Evan watched her cry. He thought through something to say to calm her, but found nothing. He wanted to say that everything would pass, that it would be fine—but he knew that would be a lie. The world was ruined. All they could do was resist.
For a short time, forgetting everything and being a normal person felt good. Sloane's crying slowly faded. Her sobs turned into uneven breaths, and her breaths into silence. The taste of the wafer still lingered—artificial, overly sweet, yet familiar. Like a relic of the old world. Supermarket shelves, unnecessary snacks bought while waiting at the register…
For a moment, she remembered a life without system and without the smell of blood. Then the generator's hum crushed everything again. Metal. Oil. Dust. The new world.
Sloane pulled her knees to her chest and sat on the floor. Evan was still in the same place, but his shoulders were looser now. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable; it felt like shared exhaustion.
"I used to be…" Sloane said softly. "I was a store manager."
Evan looked at her, surprised.
"What kind of store?"
"A big chain. Food and household goods. Shelf arrangements, staff shifts, discount fights…" She exhaled. "People got angrier while shopping. They'd scream over the smallest things. Change, lines, the last item on the shelf…"
"They still scream now," Evan said. "Only the reasons changed." Sloane nodded.
"Before, if someone pulled a knife on me, that would be madness. Now… It's normal." Silence followed. "You?" she asked. "What were you?"
"Crane operator," Evan said. "At the port. I unloaded containers. Everything was heavy but simple. If you pressed the wrong button, the load fell. Now if you say the wrong word, someone dies."
They fell silent again. Saying the truth felt heavy. "What did you like back then?" she asked.
"Sunday mornings," Evan said suddenly. "Coffee. A quiet day. What about you?"
"I…" Sloane said, as if her favorite things belonged to another lifetime. "I like cats. Ah, and coffee too." She smiled faintly, but her eyes filled. "The system told me I could trust you," she said simply. "And for the first time… it did something right."
Evan lowered his head. "I wondered why you trusted me so fast." Sloane felt guilty for what she was about to say, but she was alive—and that was what mattered. She would not apologize. Evan continued: "The system didn't tell me whether I should trust you. But I think I can. Because you could have run away… and you didn't."
The word hung between them. Run away.
Sloane looked toward the door. "We can't stay here," she said. "No water. No food. We have to go outside."
Evan clenched his fist. "I know. But outside is dangerous. Maybe…" He hesitated. "Maybe if we wait long enough, something will change."
[Quest: Banish Fear]
[Description: Find a way to overcome Evan's fear.]
[Reward: ?] [Penalty: ?]
Upon seeing the window, Sloane fully understood the mechanics of her class. Every encounter was a verbal duel. She had succeeded against Mark and received a reward.
Her encounter with Duren had been a tragic failure—and she had been punished. Worse, a death-bound quest chain had formed because she couldn't get rid of the child. She didn't know whether Duren was alive or dead, but she had managed to escape him. The quest's completion proved it.
Now it was Evan's turn.
She had to find a way to defeat this big man's psychological fear of going outside. She could abandon him and go alone, ignoring the quest—but the penalty for failure was unknown. Just like the reward. The most logical choice was to help Evan.
Having someone she could trust at her side would be good. And she was curious about the reward. This was how the new world worked. Survive and claim your prize.
"Waiting could take forever. We can move together. Outside is scary for me too," Sloane said, adding fragility to her voice. "There must be others like us. I can persuade them. We can form a group. People who help each other."
Evan did not answer. He withdrew deeper into his corner.
"I trust you, Evan. I know, it's stupid to say that to someone I just met."
She waited for a reaction—anything at all. At least then she could use Narrative Sense to verify his words.
He stayed silent. "Have you ever killed someone?" Evan asked suddenly.
Sloane froze. "N-No."
Evan stepped out of the shadows for the first time. In the weak light, Sloane saw his torn clothes and the small wounds on his face. He looked even larger and stronger than she had thought. The system had told her she could trust him, but his appearance made her hesitate.
"I have," he said. "I had to."
He shut his eyes in pain. Confessing hurt him visibly.
Sloane knew he was telling the truth through her passive sense. Her Narrative Sense didn't so much as twitch; the truth remained undisturbed. "Just because I haven't killed doesn't mean I wouldn't," she said. "If it was the only way to live… I would." Evan looked up at her seriously. Sloane continued to put pressure on him. "I think you've done it too. You had to kill because it was the only way to survive, right?"
[Affinity with Evan increased]
[Perspective triggered]
Inner monologue: I can't forget the way he struggled while I squeezed his throat, tearing at my clothes. The sounds he made while choking won't leave my ears.
"I never wanted to kill anyone," Evan said. "I still don't."
"Me neither," Sloane said, stepping closer. "We won't kill anyone. We'll hide, run, or face them and talk things through like human beings."
[Perspective triggered]
Inner monologue: He had a gun. He wanted to kill me just because he could. How could he forget years of friendship so easily?
Sloane chose a different approach. "I'm going to look for food. You can stay here. Will you open the door for me when I come back?" She opened the other door. Cold air rushed in.
Evan reached out in panic. "Don't go," he said. "What if you don't come back?"
"It's no different from waiting here to die. At least outside, I have a chance." She stepped out.
Evan ran after her. He stopped at the threshold, scanning the corridor. Torn between being alone and losing the only person he trusted. Sloane waited silently.
Evan took a step back. He decided that starving to death was better than dying painfully from wounds.
Sloane understood he wouldn't come. She turned and walked away without a word. In the wide corridor lit by flickering lamps, she searched for the service path. She had survived alone so far. Having Evan would be good—but she didn't hope too much. She walked for a few minutes, distracted.
Why hasn't the quest failed? she wondered. There was no system notification. She heard someone running behind her. She hid behind the nearest barrels. A figure ran past, heedless of the echo of footsteps. She was safe again.
She stayed behind the barrels a few seconds longer. She stepped out. When the footsteps faded, her muscles loosened, but her heart still pounded. "Fucking great," she muttered. "First mission: walk without dying." The corridor opened into a service tunnel. The ceiling was lower, cables hanging down. Old signs lined the walls: Maintenance, Freight Elevator, Exit. The word Exit was half burned—only "EX" remained. She slowed.
Every corner held another possibility: a human, a monster, or emptiness. She reached an old storage area. Shelves had fallen, and empty boxes littered the floor. She spotted a broken vending machine and bent to look inside. Most of it was empty, but one drink was stuck in the corner.
She smiled. "Lucky lucky!"
As she reached for it, she heard metal scrape behind her. Sloane froze. She straightened slowly. Her heart hammered in her ears. She didn't turn around. She waited for the sound again.
Nothing.
"Who's there?" she asked. Her voice was steadier than she felt. No answer. Shit…
She took a few steps forward. Between the shelves, her shadow stretched. She thought someone was hiding. Her breathing was uneven.
"I don't want to fight. I'm just looking for food." She didn't believe her own words. A figure appeared at the end of the aisle. Tall. Broad shoulders. It didn't venture fully into the light, but it was clearly imposing. Sloane backed away. She raised the drink like a weapon.
"I'm armed! I don't want to hurt you! Stay back!" The figure took another step. "Don't come closer!" They were only a few steps apart. Two strangers facing each other. Then something stirred inside her. A familiar weight. A familiar posture. The man stepped forward. "Evan?" she said without thinking.
He stepped into the light. Sweat covered his face. His breathing was ragged. His chest rose and fell rapidly. "I thought… I lost you," he said between breaths, then coughed.
"So you were the one running."
Evan lowered his head. "I wasn't going to come. I mean… I tried not to. But when you left… I realized staying behind was a death sentence."
Sloane was silent. Then she laughed softly. A tired laugh. "You were afraid. That's normal. I'm afraid too."
"Yes," Evan said. "But I was more afraid of being alone." The words lingered.
[Quest Completed: Banish Fear]
[Reward calculating…]
"While I was running," Evan said, "I thought about the crane. When the load swings, you're afraid. But if you let go… everything falls. So you have to keep holding."
Sloane stared blankly. She wasn't sure the metaphor meant he had truly beaten his fear. They returned to the vending machine together. Sloane drank some and handed the rest to Evan. He finished it in one go.
She checked the machine one last time. "Shall we go?" she said.
Evan paused. His shoulders were still tense, but he wasn't retreating anymore. He nodded. They walked together. The generator room was left behind.
[Reward granted]
[New Active Skill: Fiction Draft]
[Fiction Draft: For 5 seconds, makes the user's fiction appear real, deceiving perception.]
[Target: Any]
[System Notification]
[You have entered the stalker's radar]
[New quest generating…]
[Quest: Escape the Stalker II]
[Understanding of Stalker classes decreased]