The artificial lights embedded in the ceiling are gone, leaving the M-sector data hub running on minimal power, filled with the hum and whir of data drives—a graveyard of sound. A small, self-powered cleaner, fueled by dust and debris, guards the server racks like a silent administrator.

  Supported by Eve, Danang pushes open the heavy iron door, scanning the blinking green and red lights of data terminals. To any ruin digger who understands information’s value, these machines are a treasure trove. Ignoring them, Danang approaches a terminal twice the size of the others, extending his mechanical arm’s hack cable.

  The job is M-sector exploration—extract data, plant a backdoor for easier analysis. Repeated trips through this perilous sector chip away at life and survival odds.

  So, he must link Rilse’s PC to the hub’s mainframe. Plugging the hack cable into the socket, Danang runs the hacking program and waits.

  “Blacksteel Zero connected to primary terminal. Administrator: anonymous. Network link established. Backdoor program and Enoch line-sharing initiated. Please wait,” Nephtys’s voice echoes in his mind.

  Exhaling heavily, Danang slumps to the floor.

  One job done. Now, return to the undercity, collect payment from Rilse, and live unchanged days until the next task. Focusing on the machine’s hum, he glances at Eve perched on a rack, her presence captivating.

  Her mystical aura glows faintly in the dark. A melancholic, sorrowful profile, fragile and fleeting. Hugging one knee, wrapped in silver wings, she twirls her silver hair, sighing deeply.

  Suspension bridge effect—the illusion of emotion born from shared danger and survival. His captivation, his urge to speak to her, is a trick of the mind. Shaking his head, closing his eyes, Danang hears a beautiful, mournful song amid the mechanical drone.

  A soft, sad melody, lyrics unintelligible but familiar. “Nice song,” he says unconsciously.

  “…You were listening?” Eve asks.

  “…Not eavesdropping,” he replies.

  “Whatever,” she says.

  “…Eve,” he starts.

  “What?” she replies.

  “You…”

  What do you know? What do you want? Why help me? Danang clamps his mouth shut, grinding his teeth.

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  This is weakness—foolishly thinking he could easily grasp her thoughts. He, who shuns trust and doubts himself, expecting her to open up? Cold sweat beads, and, unusually rattled, he grips his rifle.

  Eve wouldn’t die from a bullet to the head. No, she holds his heart in her hands. Knowing weakness leads to control, Danang smirks bitterly, laughing at his own absurdity.

  She said to trust her, and he did. He claimed to trust her, yet he can’t fully. Raised in the undercity’s malice and sin, trust and faith are flimsy, rotten boards—step on them, and they’ll collapse into ruin.

  Eve might exploit his weakness, dependency. She could dig into his vulnerabilities, claiming psychological dominance. That terrifies him, chaining his body and soul. If she’d crush him, keeping him down, his only choice is to resist with everything he has.

  “Eve, those words—” he starts.

  “…Why, I wonder,” she interrupts.

  “…”

  “Maybe I failed long ago. I couldn’t fulfill my mission, lost everything, and now I’m just struggling, pathetically. Danang… can you reclaim a failure? Can you grasp what’s gone again? I… don’t know,” she says.

  Her gaze pierces Danang as he reaches for Heres. Tears stream down her tired face, flicked away by her wings.

  Struggling to undo one failure, sinking irretrievably—that’s the undercity’s way, instinctive even to kids. Losing his arm, replaced with a mechanical one, saved by an old man—Danang’s luckier than most.

  Without confidence, he can’t answer her uncertain question. Not understanding her failure or tears, he scratches his head, looking down.

  He’s not strong—just suppressing emotions to seem so, conforming to the undercity’s ways. That’s submission to domination and bondage, betraying his sole desire: to live. He’s a slave to survival, living yet dead, tamed by the predatory order.

  In the undercity—no, in the tower—freedom doesn’t exist. Unable to trust or be trusted, he’s less than human, a beast. Called trash or scum, he can’t argue—a coward, neither fully weak nor strong. He kills to avoid death, steals to keep what’s his, bares fangs to survive.

  “…Long ago,” he says.

  “…”

  “The old man said he saw blue skies and green trees. The tower’s outside is a wasteland now, but back then, there were skies and forests, right?” he asks.

  “…Yeah, centuries ago,” Eve replies.

  “It was real?” he presses.

  “I said so,” she says.

  A short beep from his mechanical arm. “Task complete. Return,” Nephtys says. Danang nods, rising slowly.

  “Eve, what’s your mission or plan?” he asks.

  “Interested?” she teases.

  “…I want to live. But just living’s not enough. I want to see the real blue sky, green trees—not like the old man’s stories. You offered to help me. I’ll help you. So… will you search for the sky with me? Even if you think you failed, it might not be too late. It’s not over yet,” he says.

  “…”

  Her eyes widen, meeting his dark gaze, and she chuckles softly.

  Offering help without knowing her plan or mission, Danang might seem naive. Always guarded by doubt, he’s now, for the first time, reaching out to meet her intentions.

  “…It’s a tough road,” she says.

  “I know,” he replies.

  “I don’t have clear answers,” she says.

  “You, me, Rilse—we’ll find them,” he says.

  “I haven’t told you anything,” she says.

  “If you trust me, I’ll trust you. It’s hard to say, but… believe in yourself. I’ll try to trust you and Rilse. It’s the most efficient, rational choice,” he says.

  His heart must be trembling. A youth who never knew trust, never felt it, summons courage. Wiping her tears, Eve leaps from the rack to the floor.

  “…Danang,” she says.

  “What?” he replies.

  “Your legs are shaking,” she teases.

  “No way,” he says.

  “Kidding, kidding. Here’s to us,” she says.

  Gripping his hand, she smiles with quiet relief.