PREVIEW
... drumbeat against Ace’s skull. Drip... drip... drip. Each drop synced perfectly with the cold blue numbers burning in the corner of his vision: 14:15... 14:14... His salvaged phone, connected to the cheap, flimsy charger he’d bled for, showed a pitiful 14%. A flickering ember of connection.
Wealth Consolidation. The System’s demand felt like a punch. Sell your charger? Sell your room key? For a measly $2 and maybe $10 extra? His empty stomach twisted like a knot. He felt the few coins in ...
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