At the center of the room stood a woman named Lyric. She wasn't wearing a holographic overlay. She held a cracked, ancient violin, but as she drew the bow, the sound that emerged wasn't classical. It was a heavy, hypnotic flute melody that looped through the subwoofers, underpinned by a bassline so deep it felt like a heartbeat.
The holographic gold shattered like glass. Elias gasped, the cold, unfiltered air hitting his raw skin. He looked around. No one saw a high-tier citizen. They saw a man—flawed, scarred, and sweating.
He didn't care. He grabbed the edge of the silver plating. With a hiss of pressurized air and a sharp sting of sensory overload, he pulled.
He looked at Lyric and smiled, his real lips trembling. The flute melody transitioned into a triumphant, rolling beat. He wasn't chasing the Hive’s dream anymore. He was finally breathing.
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OMRON bears no responsibility for the consequences of the actions either from the fraudsters or the victims.