He was aware that someone was observing him. He was aware that a group of information brokers called The Byrd was following him everywhere.
This train ride would be known to them. They would be aware of his friends. He needed to give the impression that he was not with them.
Then a desperate appear of hope started in his mind. He was carrying a phone. The phone he was given by the system. The one he would forgotten and brushed aside. He shut his eyes. In the hopes that his idea would succeed, he silently prayed into space. Let this be it, please.
With a mental command, he opened his system window, revealing a translucent blue screen that was visible only to him. He called up his inventory.
In his hand, the button phone materialized. He shielded his actions from any onlookers by keeping his hand inside his school bag.
Under his fingertips, he could feel the phone's cheap material. It was an old-fashioned keypad device.
