The muffled voices of anxious residents filtered through the walls. The hallway buzzed with unrest as people debated their next move. Riley knew he had to wait for the right moment when the crowd would finally disperse. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he waited, tapping his fingers against his knee. The minutes stretched into an eternity.

  Finally, the noise faded as doors closed and tenants retreated into uneasy silence. Riley seized the opportunity, putting on his jacket and slipping the Watcher's Cover into his pocket. The dim hallway greeted him with an oppressive stillness, the faint hum of the tower's systems broken only by the occasional groan of its aging infrastructure.

  He moved cautiously, each step measured as he approached Mr. Dalton's office. The sticky note Marcus had left was still plastered to the window, its sloppy scrawl reading "GridIron." Riley's stomach churned at the reminder of Catch22's looming threat.

  Pushing the door open, he was met with a stale, heavy air as if the room itself grieved its former occupant.

  The office was modest, cluttered with papers, knickknacks, and the remnants of a life dedicated to the community. At the center of the office, the soft glow of an old lamp bathed a large desk. On the wall hung a collage of photographs and snapshots of Floor 13's residents in moments of joy and normalcy.

  Riley stepped deeper into the room, his gaze lingering on the personal touches—a small shelf lined with books and a few framed family photos. One image drew his attention: Mr. Dalton with a woman and a young girl, their smiles warm and genuine.

  His focus shifted to the worn InfiNet pod in the corner. A pang of familiarity hit as he recalled his adventure the night before.

  Taking a steadying breath, Riley pulled The Watcher's Cover from his pocket. He was about to slip it over his eyes when a faint creak echoed from the hallway. His body tensed, his heart hammering as he froze in place. If someone saw him in the office, what would they think?

  For several agonizing moments, he stood motionless, ears straining for any further sound. When nothing followed, he exhaled slowly, the tension easing.

  "Just the old building settling," he told himself.

  Riley slipped The Watcher's Cover over his eyes, plunging his world into darkness. For a moment, nothing happened, and his heart sank. Then, as his vision adjusted, a figure materialized near the desk, its form hazy and flickering like a fragile hologram. Riley's breath caught. He was expecting more whisps, not a full figure. It was Mr. Dalton. His outline wavered, and his expression was a mix of confusion and sorrow.

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  "M-Mr. Dalton?" Riley whispered. His voice cracked under the weight of disbelief.

  The spectral figure turned slowly, his gaze settling on Riley. "Riley? What... what happened?" His voice was distant, an echo from a place far removed from the living.

  Riley swallowed hard. "You… you died, Mr. Dalton," he said softly, the words heavy with finality.

  The ghost's eyes widened as realization dawned, and he sank into the chair behind the desk. His hands gripped the chair's arms as if trying to anchor himself. "I…I didn't know… I thought I was still—" He cut himself off, a look of despair washing over him. "Oh, God. What's going to happen to the floor now?"

  Riley's gaze flicked to the collage of photos on the wall. His voice steadied as he said, "Mr. Dalton, I need your help. The guild Catch22 is demanding 30,000 Luxa a month for protection. If we can't pay, they want us to be scouts. We'll be defenseless either way. What should I do?"

  Dalton's spectral form seemed to ripple, his gaze shifting between Riley and the photos. "I'm not sure there's much you can do, Riley. You've only just set foot in the InfiNet. It's a dangerous place."

  Riley paused, taking in Mr Dalton's paternal gaze. "It was you, wasn't it? When I fainted after the tutorial, you shut down the pod and brought me back."

  The ghost nodded slowly. "Yes, it was me. I didn't want you to get hurt." You're too young for this."

  Riley clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him. "Please, Mr. Dalton. There has to be something I can do. I can't let Catch22 take over. There must be a way to protect the floor."

  Mr. Dalton's flickering image grew dimmer, his form barely holding together. "There is... something," he said at last. "Earlier today, I discovered a hidden InfiNet gateway. They're rare and dangerous, but those who resolve the worlds concealed within them are rewarded. Most people avoid them. Even I did."

  Riley's eyes widened. "A gateway? Where is it?"

  Dalton hesitated, his features etched with concern. "Riley, you're just a kid. You have nothing to your name, and no one is there for you. This isn't a game."

  "I know," Riley replied, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. "I know it's dangerous, but I don't have a choice. I have to try."

  Dalton's expression softened, a shadow of a smile crossing his face. "You remind me of my daughter," he said, his voice heavy with memory. "She was brave, too. But the InfiNet took her. She ventured into a deep zone and never came back."

  A lump formed in Riley's throat, but he forced himself to speak. "Please, Mr. Dalton. I need to know where it is."

  The ghost stood, his form shimmering as if caught between this world and the next. "Alright," he said quietly. "The gateway is in the Digital Twin of the InfiNet. We call it The First Layer. You'll find it in the old subway station beneath the city. Memorize this address."

  Riley committed the information to memory, relieved.

  Mr. Dalton reached for a spectral jacket draped over the back of his chair, his form growing more transparent with each passing second. "It's time for me to step out, Riley. Help the others protect the floor, and if you can, get out of the Towers."

  Dalton's spirit faded into the ether, stepping out of his office for the last time. Riley stood rooted in place, a storm of emotions swirling within him. "The subway station," he muttered.