“Sir, is there anything Vik can do for you?”
It took me a moment to react.
“No, thank you,” I said.
The little robot studied me up and down. Its cylindrical eye settled on the wound across my abdomen.
“Robot Repair Station located at Level five, Four Seasons Avenue 100. Emergency rescue number 100-1919…”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Are you… still working?”
“Working. Yes. Go, Vik! Everyone is working! The hard days will pass…” It sounded like a slogan loop that had been worn thin by time.
“Are there any other robots in this city?”
“Vik! Watch out for the Invisible Man! …Sir, is there anything Vik can do for you?”
“I mean it. Are there other robots?”
“Beautiful Underground City. Waste disposal is difficult. Please keep the area clean! Vik, watch out for the Invisible Man, Vik! Robot Repair Station located at Level minus five, Four Seasons Avenue 100. Emergency rescue number 100-1919…”
After a few more rounds like that, we both gave up on meaning.
Vik rolled on, repeating its lines as it headed for the next trash can.
A strange place.
Time was tight.
I didn’t know how the battle above was going. This city felt safe, but it could be breached at any moment. And the signal amplification tower down in the valley should be nearing completion.
I had to find the Savior quickly—before Father’s signal reached this place.
Once it did, so would my termination.
The remaining route wasn’t far.
I kept my shotgun holstered and moved fast along Festival Road, then turned onto Serenity Road and slipped into an unmarked side passage.
Pinky Lane.
The entrance was hidden inside a building.
The lane itself was only about three meters wide, winding like a service crawlway, with small structures packed tightly on both sides.
Almost there.
I dragged my damaged leg as fast as I could.
A street-level shopfront stopped me.
This was the location the Old Man had marked.
It wasn’t large, and from the outside it didn’t look special. Through the display window I could see trapezoidal shelves against the walls, holding only empty vases.
I read the weathered sign above the door. “Kylie’s Flower Shop.”
This was my destination?
I checked the map again.
It was correct.
Then the shop lights snapped on.
I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside.
“Welcome to Kylie’s Flower Shop!”
A small robot rolled out of the corner, slightly taller than Vik and rounder in shape. Its voice was just as hoarse, as if it hadn’t spoken in years.
And I noticed something else at the same time: the entire room was covered by an unfamiliar signal network.
The moment I entered, a file the Old Man had given me unlocked automatically.
“I’m Lola, your flower-shopping assistant,” the robot said, stopping in front of me and tilting its face up. “What flowers would you like to buy?”
I followed the newly unlocked prompt. “Lola, I’d like to buy a Dusk Rain Orchid. An orchid.”
It went silent.
Had I said it wrong?
I glanced around.
There weren’t any flowers at all.
Yellowed photos hung on the wall. In one of them, I saw a familiar figure.
I stepped closer.
A young, beautiful girl held a pale yellow dog. Behind them, a man in his fifties smiled brightly for the camera.
The Old Man.
And Nomi.
Lola spoke again.
“Okay. Please follow me.”
I didn’t move right away.
I pointed at the photo. “Mr. Hector? Nomi?”
“Yes,” Lola said. “Mr. Hector, his daughter Kylie, and good dog Nomi.”
“Kylie?” I pointed at the girl.
“Yes. Kylie. The owner of this shop. My master.”
So the Old Man had a daughter named Kylie.
I followed Lola to the back of the store.
It opened a wooden door into a short corridor and led me to the end. There, it flipped a switch on the wall.
The floor at the corridor’s end sank smoothly, revealing stairs descending into a hidden lower level.
“The greenhouse elevator password is 54D3H8,” Lola said. “It was randomly generated. You only have one attempt. Please don’t enter it incorrectly. Happy shopping.”
Lola turned back toward the store and shut the wooden door behind it.
I went down the stairs into a larger space.
As I entered, the lights came on. Long rows of plant racks stretched into the distance—once a greenhouse. Now they were empty.
At the far end stood a steel elevator gate.
It looked exactly like the fortress combat-zone shutters.
In this room, it didn’t belong.
A small keypad panel sat beside the gate.
I stepped up and started entering the password.
I’d only pressed two digits when a loud crash sounded above—like something being knocked over violently.
Then came the splintering impact of the wooden door breaking.
Something was wrong.
I drew the V-30 and slipped behind a row of racks.
I waited.
No further sound.
I leaned out just enough to check the stairwell.
Nothing.
When I turned back—
A black gun barrel was already pressed to my head.
Then the weapon shimmered into view.
And then the face behind it.
CBG, grinning.