By the time the bell rang, I had already forgotten my mother's voice.
I knew that because I could remember the fact of her existence—mother, female, deceased—but not the sound she used when she said my name. No warmth. No anger. Just an empty label, like a file stripped of its contents.
That was bad.
The bell echoed through the underground hall, deep and metallic, vibrating through the stone floor and into my bones. Around me, people stirred. Some stood up immediately. Others hesitated, their faces pale, eyes unfocused, fingers twitching like they were trying to hold on to something slipping away.
I stayed seated.
Not because I was brave.
Because I was afraid of what I'd lose if I stood up.
Above us, the ceiling flickered. Lines of dim white light traced symbols I didn't recognize, yet somehow understood. They rearranged themselves slowly, deliberately, like a thing that wanted to be seen.
[Cycle Registration Complete.]
The words weren't spoken aloud. They simply appeared in my mind, heavy and intrusive, pushing aside my thoughts as if they had every right to be there.
[Welcome to the Seventh City.]
A quiet murmur rippled through the hall. Someone swore. Someone else laughed—a sharp, hysterical sound that cut off too quickly.
I swallowed.
So it was true.
Every seven days, the city reset. Buildings restored themselves. Streets repaired. Supplies returned. The dead stayed dead.
And we paid the difference.
[Survival requires contribution.]
A pressure settled behind my eyes. I clenched my jaw, already familiar with the sensation. It felt like a hand reaching into my head, fingers brushing against memories, testing which ones were ripe enough to take.
Not again.
Please, not again.
[Select a Memory to Offer.]
My vision blurred. Images surfaced involuntarily.
A rainy afternoon.
The smell of old books.
A joke I once told that made someone laugh.
I pushed them down in panic.
"No," I whispered. My voice sounded thin in the vast hall. "There has to be another way."
There never was.
Around me, people were making their choices—some crying openly, some staring blankly ahead, some moving with the stiff efficiency of those who had done this too many times.
I had nothing valuable left.
That was the cruel joke.
The strong lost memories of childhood, love, triumph.
The weak like me lost scraps. Leftovers. Things no one would miss.
Except me.
My chest tightened as a small, fragile memory floated to the surface.
A melody.
Soft. Uneven. Played badly on a cheap keyboard.
I remembered sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, listening. I remembered feeling safe.
But I couldn't remember who was playing it.
The system paused.
[Memory Identified: "Comfort."]
My hands trembled.
If I gave this up…
I wouldn't know what comfort felt like anymore.
"I accept," I said hoarsely.
The hand closed.
Something tore.
It didn't hurt like pain. It hurt like absence. Like realizing a word you used to know no longer existed.
The pressure vanished.
I gasped, sucking in air like I'd been underwater.
[Contribution Accepted.]
[Evaluating Compatibility…]
The lights above us shifted, dimming further. The murmurs died out. Everyone knew what came next.
Assignment.
[Name:]
I hesitated. Names mattered here. They were anchors. People with strong identities lasted longer.
"…Ilan," I said.
The word felt thinner than it used to.
[Status: Registered Resident.]
[Affinity Detected.]
My heartbeat quickened.
No one said it aloud, but we all knew: affinity determined everything. Work. Authority. Survival odds.
The symbols twisted.
Paused.
Then rearranged themselves.
[Role Assigned: Archivist (Lesser).]
A few people nearby glanced at me. Some with pity. One with open disdain.
Archivist.
Useless in a fight. Barely tolerated. The ones who catalogued what the city forgot—old layouts, lost names, unstable zones.
The ones who died first when things went wrong.
I exhaled shakily.
Figures.
[Ability Unlocked.]
For a moment, hope sparked despite myself.
The symbols burned brighter.
[—REMEMBER—]
The word carved itself into my mind, sharp and absolute.
[Ability Description: You may retain one memory that should have been consumed.]
My breath caught.
One memory?
That was… that was—
[Warning: Retained memories accumulate debt.]
The hope shattered instantly.
[Debt Effect: Increased Targeting Probability.]
Cold spread through my stomach.
I understood.
The more I remembered, the more the city would notice me.
The more attention I drew.
Monsters. Failures. Things that slipped through resets.
Things that hunted anomalies.
My legs felt weak.
Around us, doors began to open along the hall's perimeter—massive stone slabs grinding aside to reveal stairwells leading up into the city.
[Cycle Begins.]
People moved.
I stayed still, staring at the final line glowing faintly before fading away.
[Remembering has a cost.]
As the hall emptied, I finally stood up, every movement heavy.
I reached into my mind carefully, afraid of what I'd find missing.
My mother's voice was still gone.
But the melody—
I could still hear it.
Faint. Fragile. Mine.
I clenched my fists.
If remembering made me a target…
Then I'd learn how to survive being hunted.
Even if the city itself wanted me empty.