The air in the High-Bit District didn't smell like rain or garbage. It smelled like "New Car Scent" mixed with expensive perfume.
"Don't touch anything," Static hissed.
We were standing inside the dressing room of the Grand Jubilee Hall. It was the fanciest room I’d ever been in, and I used to live in a penthouse. The walls were padded with white velvet. The floor was made of black marble that was so polished it looked like liquid. In the center of the room, a massive vanity mirror was ringed with lights bright enough to X-ray a skeleton.
"I’m not touching anything," I whispered back, clutching my arms. "I’m just... looking."
I walked over to the wardrobe rack. It was filled with costumes. Not just any costumes—my costumes. There was the sailor suit from my debut single. The robotic armor from my space-opera concept album. The ballgown from last year's Christmas special.
I ran a finger down the silk of the ballgown. A small notification popped up: [TEXTURE QUALITY: ULTRA-RARE].
"Kael," I said, my voice trembling. "Why are my old clothes here? This isn't my dressing room. My room is on the other side of the tower."
Static—no, Kael—was busy at the far wall. He had pulled a panel off a hidden terminal and was typing furiously on a holographic keyboard that floated in the air. His avatar was still hooded, but the static effect was calmer here, thanks to the high-speed connection of the district.
"It's a storage cache," Kael muttered, not looking up. "Or a shrine. The Admin keeps backups of everything he owns. Including your wardrobe."
"Great. I’m living in a stalker’s basement."
"You’re living in a server, Nova. Technically, we’re all in his basement." Kael’s fingers moved in a blur. "I’m bypassing the firewall. The door to the Root Directory is right behind this mirror. I need three minutes. Keep watch."
I turned away from the costumes and looked at the door we had just sneaked through. We had burned almost all my hard-earned Likes to bribe the security algorithms to get in here. My counter was back down to double digits. If a guard walked in right now, I couldn't even afford to buy a lie.
I paced the room. My heels clicked on the marble. Click-clack, click-clack.
The silence was heavy. In the Buffer Zone, there was always noise—screaming, machinery, static. Here, it was dead silent. The kind of silence that hurts your ears.
Then, the lights around the mirror flickered.
Not a glitch. A dimming. The warm, flattering makeup lights turned a sterile, clinical white.
"Kael," I said urgently. "Hurry up."
"Almost there," he grunted. "This encryption is nasty. It’s shifting every time I touch it."
The door handle didn't turn. The door didn't open. Instead, the air in the center of the room began to displace. It looked like heat haze on a highway—a shimmering distortion that bent the light.
"Someone’s spawning in!" I shouted, raising my hands to cast a spell, though I had no idea what I was doing.
"I can't stop!" Kael yelled. "If I disconnect now, the security system fries my brain!"
The distortion coalesced. It didn't form a soldier with a gun. It didn't form a monster.
It formed a suit. A pristine, white Italian suit, tailored to perfection. Where the head should have been, there was just a blinding, soft white light. No eyes, no mouth, no face.
My threat detection system didn't even go off. There was no red border. No warning siren. Just a simple, polite text box floating over the figure:
[USER: 001]
[ROLE: ADMINISTRATOR]
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.