I opened my eyes to morning light filtering through the curtains, soft and golden, painting long, slanted beams across the room. The air carried the faint, lingering scent of perfume and last night’s warmth.

I stretched, muscles pulling pleasantly, and realized the sheets had slipped completely off the mattress. I was still undressed, skin bare against the cool fabric.

[LEWD LEVELING SYSTEM]

[Day one of the countdown to the awakening.]

[Move faster than you have been. Every day from here is a run against time.]

The system welcomed me into the new day with a clock now attached, ticking silently in the back of my mind.

I sat up and reached for my pants on the floor. Sherry was moving in the other room, the soft pad of bare feet, the faint clink of dishes. She appeared in the doorway as I pulled my pants on, wearing a short, light dress that swayed around her thighs with each step. She balanced a tray in both hands, and the smile on her face had nothing held back in it — open, bright, completely unguarded.

"You’re awake," she said, stepping inside and setting the tray on the edge of the bed. The dress hugged her body gently, the morning light catching on the fabric and the smooth skin of her legs.

"Yeah." I noticed she had cut her hair even shorter overnight, the brunette strands now framing her face in a sharper, cleaner line. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Sherry." I sat back against the headboard. "You trimmed it shorter."

"Yeah." A quick grin, almost playful. "And I trimmed everywhere else too."

"Looks good." I uncovered the tray. Fried eggs and sausages, still warm, steam curling upward. "Why do you keep it short?"

"Long story," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed with her chin resting in her hands, watching me.

"Then I won’t press." I picked up a napkin, still getting used to the small ritual, something the plain had never taught me. "Thanks."

She watched me eat, her eyes soft and steady, that unrestrained smile never fading. The morning light spilled across her shoulders and the curve of her neck, turning her skin golden.

The system had flagged the pregnancy risk last night. Something to find out about later, if it came to anything. For now there was breakfast, a girl who had been waiting a long time for a morning like this, and a thirty-day clock that had just started running.

One day on, I thought. Twenty-nine left.

And somewhere in the back of all of it, my father’s voice from the dream echoed again. He’s going to be a father now.

"How is it?" she asked as I ate, her chin still resting in her hands.

"How’s what?"

"My cooking."

"I’ve never eaten anything this good," I said, eyes meeting hers before dropping back to the sausage. The flavors were rich, perfectly seasoned, the kind of meal that made the plain feel even farther away. "Goth taught you well."

She smiled, the expression soft and pleased, lighting up her whole face in the morning light.

"And how was last night?" she asked, voice quieter now.

"What about last night?" I said, moving off the bed and offering her a piece of sausage from my fingers. She leaned forward and took it between her teeth, her lips brushing my skin for a brief second.

"Last night was," I said, searching for the right word as I watched her chew, "a turning point. For me. You?"

"My best night ever," she said, her face confirming it without hesitation. "Every second of it."

I finished the eggs. "Thank you, Sherry. We should get ready for the day."

"Yeah." She paused, fingers tracing the edge of the tray. "Thought you might shower here."

"I’ll get ready from my room. Need to change anyway."

"Yeah." She gathered the trays, the plates clinking softly. "Let me get ready too then."

"You have a mission today?" I asked.

"No. But we still report."

We came out of the bedroom together. My boots were by the door where I’d left them. I kissed her forehead, lingering for a second against her warm skin, then headed out. She was still smiling as I closed the door behind me.

I went down the stairs, each step echoing softly in the quiet morning building. Carrise’s apartment door was closed, solid and unreadable, the dark wood catching the faint hallway light in a dull sheen. For a moment it reminded me of the mission waiting inside — another closed door, another hidden thread. I slipped down to my own floor.

Inside my apartment, the pants I’d worn yesterday were still crumpled on the couch, fabric twisted and stained with dust and dried sweat from the fight. I picked them up, the weight in the pocket immediately reminding me of the note I’d found under the door. It was still there, untouched, a small folded rectangle pressing against my fingers.

*If I don’t read it now I’ll forget it entirely.*

I pulled it out and opened it. The handwriting was clear and steady, ink sharp against the paper.

I know you don’t know me, Nadez. But trust me. Don’t stop Owen. He isn’t working against you. He’s for us. We’ll meet soon.

The note had been pushed under my door yesterday, meant for everything that happened, and I had missed it. Owen was already dead.

[Significant progress toward the awakening.]

The notification sat in my sight, cold and unfeeling, the letters sharp against the back of my mind.

Owen was for us, I read again. Who even sent this?

Somebody had tried to protect Owen through me, and had failed, because Mary had ended him before the note ever reached my eyes.

And the system was telling me the awakening was making good progress.

What did Owen’s death actually do, I thought.

I folded the note carefully and put it back in my pocket. Another thread. Another thing I couldn’t resolve yet.

Thirty days.