Riley stayed hidden behind the crowd, his heart pounding as Marcus's malevolent grin stretched wider. His instincts screamed to keep out of sight. Marcus never brought anything but trouble, and drawing his attention could only make things worse.

  With a casual dominance, Marcus strolled forward, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry. "Tough break, huh? Losing your floor manager like that. Now your defenses are shot." He scanned the crowd, his smirk sharpening. "Not that I'm surprised. We've tracked the defenses of every floor. 13 was bound to fold eventually."

  A ripple of unease swept through the residents. Though no one spoke it aloud, the truth was clear: Mr. Dalton's death had guild fingerprints all over it. However, justice was a privilege reserved for the lucky. For everyone else, there was only one rule: "All is fair in the InfiNet."

  Marcus let the tension hang before continuing in his mocking tone. "But don't lose sleep over it. Catch22 offers protection services. For a reasonable fee, of course."

  The crowd erupted in anger. "This is extortion!" one resident shouted, their voice shaking with fury.

  "You can't do this!" another cried, fists clenched.

  Marcus chuckled, unbothered by their protests. "You don't have to hire us. But that means your floor stays wide open for... opportunists." His eyes glinted with thinly veiled malice. "I'm sure you'll manage."

  The threat landed like a hammer. The residents' outrage shifted to fear, their voices faltering. Marcus seized the moment. "There is another option," he said, almost lazily. "If you can't scrape together the Luxa, you can work for Catch22. We're always looking for scouts."

  The response was immediate and visceral. "We're not your slaves!" a woman yelled, her voice rising above the growing din.

  Marcus smirked, fishing a sticky note and pen from his pocket. Scribbling something down, he strolled to the Floor Manager's Office and slapped the note onto the glass. "Here's my username," he said with a wink. "Think it over."

  A voice broke through the chaotic murmurs. "How much is this 'protection' going to cost us?"

  Marcus turned slowly, his grin widening as though savoring the moment. "Thirty thousand Luxa a month."

  The collective gasp that followed seemed almost satisfying to him.

  "That's insane!"

  "We can't pay that!"

  "Not my problem," Marcus said, shrugging with an exaggerated indifference. "You've got a week to decide. Either pay up or join the scouts. Your call."

  With that, Marcus spun on his heel, sauntering down the hall like he owned the place. The tension in his wake hung like a storm waiting to break.

  As soon as he disappeared from view, the crowd exploded into frantic debate. Anger, fear, and hopelessness clashed in a cacophony of voices.

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  Riley pressed deeper into the shadows, his thoughts racing as he absorbed the scene. The weight of Marcus's ultimatum was crushing—thirty thousand Luxa or servitude. Neither option offered hope.

  Amid the chaos, a flicker of movement caught Riley's eye. He turned to see a girl with reddish-brown hair watching him from the crowd's edge. She couldn't have been much older than him. Their eyes locked briefly, but before he could react, she slipped away, vanishing into her room.

  Riley blinked, the strange encounter lingering as he retreated to his own apartment. The door's familiar creak cut through the silence as it clicked shut behind him. He leaned against it, letting the weight of Marcus's ultimatum sink in. Thirty thousand Luxa for a month's protection, or become a scout for Catch22. The decision felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

  Riley pushed off the door, moving across his room. He pulled out the Watcher's Cover, placing it on the desk. After draping his jacket over the chair, he moved to the window. It was the one place where his thoughts seemed to untangle. Beyond the glass, the city sprawled in a web of waning light against the encroaching night.

  The price Marcus demanded was outrageous but not entirely out of reach. If everyone on Floor 13 pooled their resources, they might scrape it together. But that kind of sacrifice came at a steep cost. It meant barely surviving while always one payment away from disaster. It wasn't a life; it was a slow suffocation.

  The alternative? Riley grimaced. Scouts weren't just sent on recon missions. He heard enough horror stories at Helix to know the truth. Scouts were pawns, thrown into fights against floors beyond Catch22's control. If they lost, their Luxa was stripped, and if they died without enough Luxa to cover the "death penalty," they'd die in real life, too. That was the reason why the InfiNet was so dangerous. You could die in real life if you died in the InfiNet.The guild treated those deaths as payment for protection, but all it did was leave more floors abandoned and broken. It was a twisted process that few in the towers could escape.

  He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his breath fogging the surface. Could he go back to the housing office and ask for reassignment? Doubt gnawed at him. Even if it were possible, where would they send him? Floor 13 was the only green-status floor in Tower 7c. The odds of landing somewhere better were slim to none.

  No, running wasn't the answer.

  With a heavy sigh, Riley turned to his monitor. The screen still displayed the earnings from the tutorial mission. It was enough that he could contribute his share, but what about the others? Could they afford to do the same? And what happened when the Luxa dried up?

  His options were to find a second job or turn to the InfiNet, but Riley wasn't sure if he could take on a second job, what with the physical demands of being a Mod Jockey. Not to mention, despite the results from his tutorial mission, money didn't exactly rain in the InfiNet. He could try questing like the games in the LiteNet, but after his encounter with S.A.M., Riley wasn't sure if the AI Netizens of the InfiNet would be cooperative. They seemed just as unpredictable as any human.

  He did know of a few other occupations. The InfiNet had its share of typical gaming jobs like coaching, crafting, or carrying. It also had other indirect lines of work like trading or content creation. However, every path required resources and relationships that Riley didn't have. The walls of his room suddenly felt closer now.

  He clenched his fists, forcing the panic to recede. He needed a way out. A plan.

  Riley's thoughts circled back to Mr. Dalton, the only person who'd seemed capable of standing against the chaos the guilds brought. Although their time together had been brief, Mr. Dalton's calm resolve had left a lasting impression. Without him, Floor 13 felt like a ship adrift.

  The idea struck Riley like a lightning bolt. The Watcher's Cover. If it had revealed Thom's ghost, maybe it could connect him to Mr. Dalton. The thought brought a surge of resolution. He glanced at the blindfold resting on his desk, remembering the strange lights he witnessed in HyperCon.

  But doubts clawed at the edges of his mind. What if it didn't work? What if he found nothing? Or worse, what if he received another cryptic message like he had with Thom? Riley shook his head, pushing the uncertainty aside. He couldn't afford to hesitate.