When I finally fully open the door, all I see is pitch-black, with the smell of pork and beans flowing out from the room. The walls are the darkest shade of black, and the blinds on the window are nothing but a gray tarp that blocks out almost all sunlight aside from a little bit trickling in on both sides.

Maybe I should check the other bathroom. No . . . there can’t be another bathroom. Housing in Artl is assigned and designed around the SOL.

Honestly, the fact that a house with only one bathroom is not questioned just shows how well the system works. . .

Let’s just get this over with.

Unable to see, I reach out my right hand to feel around for a light switch. Soon I find one, and yet, no lights turn on despite flipping the switch repeatedly. I can only guess that if there is a light bulb in this room, it is burnt out. The lack of electricity has not been an issue on this server. I can turn on my dark vision, but I need to conserve my processing power. Not to mention that the room can’t be too big, so the distance between the door and the window is not that large.

I walk into the room, hoping I don’t trip on anything while I make my way toward the window. Easier said than done, because the moment I step into the room, I fall face-first, tripped up by what felt like a can. Even if I can feel pain, I am cushioned by what feels like piles of books on the floor, which made picking myself up off the ground very difficult to do afterward.

After a minute of trying, I finally manage to stand up and try to make my way to the window. I tiptoe my way through the room to make sure I do not step on anything else and quickly make my way to the window. I pull the blinds open, revealing a room where many comic books and manga volumes litter the floor.

Such a contrast! A clean house and mostly empty garage, yet such a messy and disorganized bedroom.

Aside from the piles of books on the floor, a mattress with no bed frame lies directly below the window, a nightstand is placed next to the bed, and the right side of the room has a sink outside the door. This door, I can assume, is the private bathroom of this room. If Mathis-san had bandages anywhere, it would be in the bathroom.

I cautiously make my way toward the bathroom and look for bandages in the cabinet underneath the sink. Despite the low amount of light, I finally find bandages and quickly begin to patch up my shoulder wound. Luckily, there is a circular mirror just above the sink, which will help me get a better view of my injury.

As I turn around and loosen the left strap of my top to get a better look at my injury, I notice that my shoulder is almost completely fine. No blood, no wound. The closest things to 'bite marks' are three bright-purple dots on my shoulder.

I thought Admins are supposed to be resistant to the corruption. Which is the reason this pain exists in the first place. Our data, unlike the data of SOLs, is not compatible with A-CRASH's corruption, so why is my wound be heal-?

Oh no, I have been corrupted? That can’t be!

Maybe A-Crash has gotten stronger as it spreads its influence throughout the system, or could it be that my relationship with Atsushi has created a weakness for it to exploit? Once again, I have many things to dwell on, yet my time is limited.

I find some antiseptic I found in the medicine cabinet on the left-hand side above the sink and apply it to the wound. Not sure if it will help, but it’s worth a shot. Finally, I wrap the bandages around my shoulder, more as a safety precaution since I don’t know how the other admins would respond. That had to take about an hour of my Port Drive’s charge-up time. I don’t have basic medical training, so 'patching myself up' takes a little longer than usual.

Approximately eleven hours left. What shall I do? I guess all I can do is see what Mathis-san has. First, maybe I should clean up his room, if for no other reason than that it will make getting out much easier.

So without delay, I begin picking up books from the floor, agitating my shoulder as I bend down. I don’t understand why I am feeling pain this sharp for a wound so small; there is no bleeding. Perhaps it’s due to the effects of the corruption. I just have to hope it doesn’t get worse. Thank the designs that only two Admins have been corrupted so far. To my knowledge, only Arturo Santana and I have been corrupted. Though what’s odd is how the corruption affected us differently. It has seemed to spread faster for Arturo than it does for me.

Will my corruption quicken? Will the corruption get so bad that I have to sacrifice myself for the safety of the system?

As the thought enters my mind, I drop the handful of books I am carrying. Why am I bothered by such thoughts?

Damn it, it’s not my place to prioritize my own existence.

I pick back up the books and walk over to the tall black wooden dresser next to the left side of the door. I don’t understand why I am plagued with such thoughts, but I need to focus on the task at hand.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

***

After three hours, Mathis-san’s room is finally clean. All the books have been arranged either on the dresser or placed next to the wall, and all the trash has been disposed of.

How does someone have so many books? I don’t think even the most obsessed otaku in my server has this many comic books in their collection! And why would the designers put these things in here? What purpose is there to have these things on the server?

I can understand why books, magazines, movies, and the like would exist in servers like mine, but here, they are just pointless at best and cruel at worst. I suppose prisons do have libraries.

Exhausted, I make my way out of the room before I see something on the nightstand next to the bed. It is a photo of two teenagers and a little boy in the center. I can tell the man on the right is Mathis Michaels, despite the man in the photo being more muscular than Mathis’s current lanky frame.

For some reason I stand still, looking at this photo for an inordinate amount of time. The happiness, the hopeful optimism in the face of a cursed fate.

All that’s left are stray books and DVDs. How could this be enough? I just can’t understand.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, put down the photo, and pick up one of the comic books I’ve arranged on the floor. I have eight hours left till I can activate a server shift, and I can’t interfere with the jurisdiction of Admins of other servers unless I am given permission. So all I can do is sit down and read.

***

Seven hours in and I am still not bored. Mathis-san has such a diverse taste in manga and movies. From action to sci-fi to romance, he’s got it all. As I sit in this lonely house, in this world that is on the brink of total destruction, I can see why Mathis cherishes these things. They are an escape from an inescapable world, a future where there is hope. Though I have been immersed in fantasies for multiple hours on end, I need to check on the time remaining on my Port Drive. I pull out my pendant and ask it how much time is left until it can execute a server shift.

“Forty-five minutes remaining till next server shift,” the Port Drive updates me.

Well, I don’t have enough time to finish a movie, and I was never a fan of film and television anyway. What can I say, I do not see the fun in watching people pretend, I do that enough every day.

“Okay, keep me updated every five minutes,” I order the pendant, only for it to respond:

“Roger.”

Just after I am updated, I hear a crash outside. I rush out of the room and into the living room. I open the blinds of the window behind the couch and see three Rotters stumbling around the backyard, the purple mist surrounding them, slowly healing the broken arms and legs that have been presumably injured breaking through the wall.

At the same time, I hear the sound of gunshots echoing from the distance. Oh no, the Rotters have broken into the residential areas. This server is barely holding on, and yet I can’t do anything. What do I do? I no longer have the gun with me. I am utterly defenseless.

“Twenty-five minutes until server shift.”

I need to remain calm. It won’t be long until I can server-shift. Not to mention, the house is surprisingly well fortified. The bookshelf behind the sliding door makes for a good barricade.

With nothing to defend myself, limited time, and no ability to rest and recharge my processing power, I head back into Mathis’s bedroom, lock the door, have a seat on the floor, and resume the manga I’m reading.

“Twenty minutes until server shift.”

I resume my reading of a high school romantic comedy manga called Real Heart High.

Does Mathis really read this stuff?

I can’t imagine a grown man in his thirties would be interested in a romantic comedy for young girls.

Is this what the designers think a Japanese high school is like?

I know the cover says it’s written and drawn by Kouze Inoue, but I highly doubt someone like that actually exists on this server. Granted, this series seems very similar to what my server is like, teenagers having no worries beyond their love lives and teachers with barely any personality outside their jobs, besides the occasional “fun” one . . .

I then hear the sound of another crash and wood breaking apart.

“Fifteen minutes until server shift.”

I need to focus on the book. I can’t get distracted by the chaos. As I continue to read, I hear the sound of plates shattering and plastic spilling onto the ground, most likely the DVD cases. They don’t seem to have noticed my presence. I have to use this brief advantage while I still can.

I reach out my hand and use as little processing power as I can to fortify the door. Even with that minuscule amount of processing power, my shoulder begins to experience stinging pain. That should only hold off the Rotter for a little while longer.

I have long since finished the current volume I was holding on to. I cannot seem to find the next volume in the series, though for the life of me, I don’t think I can tell you what the contents are. Try as I may, I can’t seem to calm my nerves with all the . . . commotion going on outside. I just have to wait the timer out and hope for the best. For now, I crawl over to the organized pile of books and grab myself another.

“Ten minutes until server shift.”

From the pile, I pick out something a little different from my usual tastes, an American-style superhero comic.

Hey, if Mathis-san can read high school romantic comedies, what’s the harm in expanding your horizons?

I open the book, and I am shocked by the amount of color on each page. I then hear repeated pounding at the door. I have less than ten minutes left; the door has to hold until then. I need to focus on my reading. Maybe I can’t turn off my hearing, but my window of time isn’t very large at the moment. It’s not worth the pain and processing power. I just have to focus as hard as I can. I grip the comic as tight as I possible, hoping I don’t rip the cover.

“Five minutes until server shift.”

The door is holding up well. But I also start hearing banging on the window. I’m surrounded. Honestly, in the current situation I am in, I can understand why you would want to immerse yourself in something like a comic book, especially if this is what you have to deal with every day.

Now the drum-like pounding on the door has stopped, but I see a yellow, jagged fingernail sticking out of the door.

No! They are going to break through! What do I do? Do I just self-destruct like Arturo, or do I wait out the five minutes?

Either way, there are only two options: escape or death. I just need to relax and enjoy my book.

Whatever happens, I leave it up to fate.

As soon as that hopeless thought enters my mind, the door is finally torn open. Splinters of wood fly toward me, trailed by Rotters.

Whatever happens, happens.

“Initiating server shift.”