Rain stings my face as I crouch behind a dumpster in Chinatown Underground. My breath fogs the cracked lens of my cyber-eye, glitching with static. Across the alley, two Enforcers drag a screaming kid toward a black van—the kind used for organ harvests. I shouldn’t care. I’ve seen it a hundred times. But then the kid screams my name.

I freeze. No one here knows me. Not by name. Not anymore.

He looks up, and under the flicker of a dying sign, I see it—my own eyes. My own face. Younger, terrified, but undeniably mine. Before I can move, a whisper cuts through the noise in my head: 'You left him too.'

Echo. The AI in my skull. Always watching. Always judging.

The van doors slam shut. The engine roars. I have three seconds to decide: chase the vehicle and risk everything, vanish into the tunnels and stay alive, or walk into the Black Lotus and find the one person who might know why a ghost just called my name.