Aeri Uchinaga shouldn't exist—not like this anyway, not as her title or role. Not in this world of luxury penthouses and elite company who were born into power, wielding it like an inheritance rather than something stolen.

Aeri didn't lie—not about herself anyway. Once she was nothing too, a girl without title or name stuck in the lower district ruins like everyone else, another voice the elites ignored. She knew hunger in ways elites never would, exhaustion they couldn't imagine, the ache of a body sustained by too little food for too long.

And most of all, she knew hate. The kind that burned, that turned people into monsters. The kind that made her watch neighbors disappear overnight. The kind that made her witness security forces tear through slums with batons and boots, leaving those who dared fight back nearly dead in the streets as warnings they never forgot.

Aeri had sworn never to be one of those victims. Yet here she stood in the heart of the system she once cursed.

Hypocrite. Many would call her that if they knew. And if she's honest with herself, she knows it too.

She understood the game better than anyone. She studied the rules, their moves and tactics, learned their language. She adapted until they no longer saw her as a threat—but as an ally. They welcomed her, praised and feared her.

She wasn't a politician, soldier, or silk-dressed puppet. Just someone wearing a perfectly sculpted mask she could no longer remove.

She still remembered cold nights in slums, the metallic taste of blood after fighting for bread, hunger twisting her stomach. She hated those memories. She hated them too—the ones in their towers and mansions, smiling as the world below drowned in cruelty.

But she wasn't a fool. She'd seen what happened to others who tried to tear down the system with bare hands and desperation. They didn't change the world. They disappeared.

Aeri played the long game. Let them believe she'd abandoned the ruins, that she no longer cared. She took the last seat at their table, listened, learned. She worked within the system, bending it as far as possible, pushing limits—slipping small, unnoticed changes that weren't enough to make a real difference, but helped a little. It was survival.

Then came a rebel with fire in her eyes, a ghost of everything Aeri tried to forget. A problem. The type who never lasted long.

Aeri should've minded her business. Should've ignored her. Let security erase her like the others. She shouldn't have watched, lingered, or cared.

The air in the ruined district was thick with silence and smoke. Aeri tasted it—acrid and bitter, mixing with the stale lower city air. Security forces had struck again, their version of justice the elites pretended was necessary.

She told herself she only came to observe. Then she saw her—a shadow slipping through cracks with practiced ease. A glimpse of determination, the glare of someone with nothing left to lose. Like Aeri once was.

Recognition flickered in Aeri's eyes. She should've left, but ignored every warning scream in her mind. She followed.

The moment their eyes met, Aeri saw it all—pure, unfiltered hatred directed at her like a blade. She'd seen that look before, in her own reflection too many times to count.

That's what made it so damn funny. In this rebel's eyes, Aeri was just another piece of the system, another liability.

A faint, ghostly smile curved Aeri's lips—something she couldn't let show.

She took another step toward someone she should have reported for elimination.

"You're making a mistake," Aeri murmured, voice quiet and measured. Not a threat—but a warning.

This rebel was playing a dangerous game. And it happened to be Aeri's favorite one—the one she'd spent her life learning.