The darkness in the sewer looked like wet asphalt that never dried.
Lu Jin sat propped against a cold, rusted pipe in the maintenance room. The weak glow from his phone was the only light, a tiny rectangle of life in a space that smelled like rot and old metal.
[Battery Warning: 3%]
The red battery icon pulsed in the corner like a bloodshot eye staring him down.
Lu Jin ignored it.
His thumb pressed against the cracked glass. The main fracture cut straight across the face of the man in the photo—white coat, blurred features—splitting it neatly in half.
The pixels were trash, snow drifting across the image, but Lu Jin knew those eyes.
Gentle. Focused. And behind the lenses, that stubborn, almost sick level of idealism.
Five years ago, the Federation had sent a neat little package to their cramped apartment: an official notice stamped Lab Accident, No Remains Recovered, one black-and-white memorial photo, and a compensation payout calculated to clear the mortgage to the last cent.
Now the same face stared back at him from Ark's top-secret S-09 "Executioner" prototype log.
Title: Chief Neural Engineer.
"Old man…" Lu Jin let out two dry, broken laughs. The movement jarred his chest; the taste of rust climbed his tongue. "So you didn't die in a lab blast. You went to build brains for monsters instead?"
His thumb wouldn't hold steady as he tried to tap the attached file.
[Attachment: Audio – lu.log_001]
The screen flickered.
[Access Denied][Insufficient Permission: File is protected by physical-level encryption. Decryption Cost: 50 Holy Resonance Energy.]
The phone buzzed in his palm.
[Battery Warning: 2%][System Notice: Host terminal is about to power down. Once disconnected, Deep Space Echo will enter sleep mode. Observation target Li Xing will lose protection.]
A muscle in Lu Jin's eyelid jumped.
Hostage. No point sugarcoating it.
If the phone died here in this hole, he didn't just lose his one tool. He cut the line to a girl who'd just put her entire faith in him.
"Name your price," Lu Jin rasped at the screen. "I know you've got a trick."
The display flared, harsh blue light washing the grime and floating dust into view.
[Holy Resonance Energy · Emergency Credit Protocol]
[Detected: You are in extreme distress. (Holy Resonance: 2 points. Battery: 1%.) You cannot afford any services.][In the spirit of humanitarian concern, this system is proud to offer our "Future Overdraft" feature!]
[You may borrow Holy Resonance Energy from your future gains to pay for urgent services now.]
[Available Credit Services:][1. Emergency Life-Support Charge: Consume 100 Holy Resonance to convert song-energy to power, replenishing 30% battery.][2. Classified File Decryption: Consume 50 Holy Resonance.]
[Warning (Fine Print): Borrowed Holy Resonance will be recorded as Energy Debt. You must guide Li Xing to generate enough positive emotions to repay within 72 hours. If you default, the system will deduct equivalent time directly from your remaining life as penalty.]
Lu Jin read the contract once, then again, and felt his stomach drop.
There it was. The real face behind the friendly UI.
It didn't create value. It didn't "save" anyone. It just did high-interest loans with a pretty skin. It took Li Xing's future joy, hope, gratitude—things she hadn't even gotten the chance to feel yet—wrapped them up as collateral, and sold them to him now at a markup.
"Take it all," he said. No hesitation. His voice scraped.
[Confirming Credit Use…]
[Holy Resonance Balance: –148]
[72-hour Repayment Timer Started. Good luck, valued customer.]
A chill pricked between his brows. On the screen, the golden droplet icon that used to show his Holy Resonance emptied in an instant, flipped, then reappeared as an angry red negative number.
At the same time, something unseen flowed down the line, the system yanking power from nowhere and ramming it into the phone.
A soft electric buzz crawled up his fingers.
[Charge Complete. Current Battery: 34%]
Lu Jin didn't bother savoring the hit. Poison was still poison, even if it came with a rush. He stabbed the decrypt button.
[Decoding Audio… Filtering Noise…]
The speaker spat out a high, ugly hiss, like a swarm of flies trapped in a tin can.
After a few seconds, a man's voice pushed through the interference.
His father's voice.
But not the voice Lu Jin remembered from late nights over instant noodles and broken appliances. This one shook with panic, despair, and a heavy, sour layer of self-disgust.
"…cough… this is the 109th live parallel-link test."
"Jacob's lost it… that lunatic… he's not building a mech. He's trying to build a god…"
"S-09's core code will not run on silicon. It needs a carrier. It needs a human brain as wetware."
Something crashed in the background. Glass. Metal. Farther away, muffled crying.
"We cut the girl's brain out… put it in that tank… God, she was twelve… A-07 test subject, Lillian…"
Lu Jin's fingers dug into his palm until nails met flesh.
Lillian.
The name sprayed on the subway wall in that other world. The one they'd written like a prayer and a curse.
"…if you're hearing this, whoever you are… do not power S-09. Don't ever let it fully wake up."
His father's voice sped up, as if someone was hammering on a door just off-mic.
"It isn't a machine. It's alive. It eats the user's mind. Once you fully activate it, it will—"
The rest drowned under a violent surge of interference, a jagged shriek of electricity that cut the recording clean off.
Then a different voice slipped in. Flat, synthetic.
"Engineer Lu, it's time for your medication."
The file ended.
Silence flooded the maintenance room.
Lu Jin felt cold crawl from his feet to the back of his skull.
Wetware. Live brain. Eating minds.
He snapped his gaze back to the stream from the wasteland.
[A-11 Wasteland Zone · Resource Point No. 7]
On the screen, Li Xing was happily setting a pristine box of chocolate rations on Executioner's shoulder plate, arranging it carefully like she was decorating an altar.
She didn't know a damn thing about S-09's real nature. To her, it was simple: if she offered good things, the Listener would be pleased.
She stepped back, hands on her hips, then waved at the mech with a grin that could have lit an entire bunker.
"Come on, Big Guy. Let's go home."
Executioner's chassis stayed slouched in that obedient posture, its treads grinding softly as it turned and rolled after her.
[Detected: Observation target Li Xing has assigned S-09 the roles "Divine Envoy / Family Member" and initiated ongoing daily offering behavior.][Emotion Assessment: Attachment – A- · Sense of Safety – B+ · Shared Future Vision – B][Holy Resonance EXP Settlement: +20]
[Target: Li Xing][Holy Resonance Realm: Mortal Echo · Glimmer Stage][Level: LV2][Growth: 404 / 500 → 424 / 500][Progress: Glimmer LV2 (424 / 500)]
[Note: Current growth nearing cap. Upcoming major events are more likely to trigger realm fluctuation. Host is advised to brace mentally.]
But.
The moment Li Xing turned her back, something in the feed twitched.
Lu Jin saw it.
Deep inside the glass tank atop S-09's frame, the once-sluggish brain mass thumped hard. Not a mechanical tremor. A pulse.
The dead eye under the tank flicked.
For a breath, a thin ring of red bled through the tired yellow glow.
Not a status light.
A stare.
Hungry. Locked onto the slight figure walking ahead of it.
Watching her back.
No—watching the organ inside her skull.
It was the kind of look a starving animal gave fresh meat on the other side of a cage. It pressed at the limits of whatever command chain held it in check, metaphorical chain rasping. Something in its code clearly craved permission.
Lu Jin swallowed against a dry throat.
His thumb tightened around the phone.
He'd taken out a loan he had no way to repay just to buy this truth.
He hadn't just found Li Xing a bodyguard.
He'd also, whether he meant to or not, picked out a future… dessert.