I woke up to the sound of someone pounding on my door.

"Open up!"

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re home!”

Instinct kicked in before anything else—I reached under my pillow for the knife. But as my fingers closed on empty space, reality hit me. I’m not in that world anymore.

Ten days ago, I was fighting off zombies in a hellish post-apocalyptic wasteland. I’d just snuck into my mission target when I heard the ominous beeping of a bomb ticking down.

Five… four… three… two… one…

Boom.

The blast hit before I could even think. No cover, no warning, just the sharp, gut-wrenching feeling of weightlessness before everything went dark.

When I woke up, I was lying in some alley, trash strewn all around me, and acid rain pouring from a sickly yellow sky. My stomach... God, the pain. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of me, blood soaking through my shirt.

Is this it?

But survival doesn’t come easy. I dragged myself, inch by inch, over to an old medical vending machine. I spent every credit I had on a healing serum, injected it, and somehow managed to stop the bleeding. Barely.

I limped my way back to this apartment, putting together fragments of memory from the body I was now stuck in.

This world… this place was a wasteland, where eighty percent of the land was poisoned. People lived behind high walls to keep out whatever monstrosities were lurking outside.

At least there are no zombies.

My world had been overrun. Day after day, it was a struggle just to see the next sunrise. Here, at least, they had technology. Healing serums, gene boosters, nutrient injections.

And… a system. That was new.

When I woke up here, it just bound itself to me.

In my old life, I had nothing. When I saw the system panel for the first time, I thought, maybe this is my shot. I stared at the screen, hoping to find something—anything—that would give me an edge.

Name: Nina Chase

Age: 19

Education: Bachelor’s in Engineering

Citizen Status: Fifth-tier

Talent: Unknown

Mutation Direction: Unknown

Mutation Level: Unknown

Body Strength: Unenhanced

Mental Value: 100 (average person is 20)

But the rest? Everything was grayed out, locked. The only thing I had going for me was some higher-than-average mental value. Not exactly the game-changer I was hoping for.

And the mission? "Purify the contaminated land. Rebuild humanity's home."

Excuse me, what?

Might as well have handed me a death sentence right there.

I mean, there’s a saying—don’t aim too high. If you’re facing something impossible, all you want to do is give up. And that’s exactly what I did. For the last ten days, I just laid low, barely moving, surviving off nutrient injections.

But, apparently, the universe wasn’t done with me.

“Nina Chase, open the door!” The voice outside was getting more impatient. “If you don’t open up, I’m breaking it down!”

I sighed. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door.

Standing there was a tiny old woman, barely four feet tall, glaring up at me like she was ten feet tall. Mrs. Wayland, the building supervisor. I’d seen her around. She had dwarfism, but that didn’t make her any less intimidating.

Mrs. Wayland smacked her cane against the floor. “Rent.”

Rent? This dump has rent?

“How much?” I asked, wary.

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She gave me a look like I’d just grown a second head. “You owe twelve months—24,000 credits.”

Twenty-four thousand?! My mind scrambled. I had barely 700 credits to my name. I forced myself to breathe, trying to keep my face neutral. “Come again?”

“24,000,” she repeated, voice sharp and firm.

I let out a long, slow breath. This world is insane. Was that how things worked here? A full year’s rent upfront?

“If you can’t pay, move out,” Mrs. Wayland warned, tapping her cane again like a threat. “Plenty of people would take this place.”

I scrambled for a cover story. My behavior must’ve seemed strange—this body, this person, had lived here for years. Of course, she’d know how much rent she owed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay,” I muttered, trying to sound tired and nonchalant. “Just give me two days.”

Mrs. Wayland narrowed her eyes, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle. “You’ve got until the end of the month. And try not to lose your mind again, okay?”

Lose my mind again? I blinked. What did that mean? Was the original owner of this body known for… mental issues?

Great. Just what I needed.

I nodded, playing along. “Yeah, been getting headaches.”

Apparently, that was believable enough for her. She turned to leave but threw one last parting shot over her shoulder. “And don’t go turning my building into a crime scene.”

I flinched. The night I crawled back here, bleeding and barely conscious, I must have run into her. She probably thinks I tried to off myself.

Before she left, she added, “And deal with those bills at the door.”

Bills?

I leaned out and saw a fat stack of overdue notices plastered to the door—water, electricity, maintenance, taxes. I tore them down, flipping through them.

Great. I owed another 8,000 credits on top of the rent.

Perfect start, Nina. Just perfect.

I slumped back inside, collapsing into the old, oversized chair in front of my computer. The thing was a relic—ancient by today’s standards. Everyone here had moved on to far more advanced tech, but this old beast? This I knew how to work.

A few clicks later, I pulled up a job search website. Alright, let’s find something… anything…

Thousands of listings popped up, but most of them? I couldn’t even understand. The jobs here were so advanced, the descriptions might as well have been written in another language.

Focus, Nina. You just need a job. Any job.

One listing caught my eye. Mercenaries wanted. I felt a twitch in my fingers. I could do that. I was that.

But the requirement? Third-tier citizenship. And I was stuck in fifth-tier.

I cursed under my breath. This place really knows how to kick you when you’re down.

I set some filters, plugging in my info—fifth-tier citizen, engineering degree—and hit search. The massive list of jobs shrank to a single page. I stared at the screen in disbelief.

Are you kidding me?

Ten listings. That’s all. Most of them were for caretakers, janitors, or mechanics. Nothing I was excited about.

But one job stood out. Three hours of work for 5,000 credits, plus commissions? That seemed… decent.

I clicked on it. Cleaner.

The job description was vague—“garbage removal”—but apparently, you could make a lot of money doing it. Twenty-five thousand credits? For cleaning up trash?

What kind of garbage pays that much? Are they cleaning up bodies?

Still, it was worth a shot. If I didn’t do something, I’d be out on the street. With a shrug, I hit the apply button.

Instantly, the screen exploded with fireworks.

Congratulations! You’ve been hired.

Wait… what? I blinked at the screen. No interview, no questions? Just like that?

My inbox pinged. I had an offer letter waiting.

Okay… this is happening.

By 6:30 that evening, I found myself standing in front of the District 103 Cleaning Center. The building was massive, towering into the sky, and I had no idea what I was getting into. The job listing had been vague, and now I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved or terrified.

No security checks at the entrance—just a robot that directed me to the 49th floor. I stepped into the elevator, watching the numbers climb.

This better not be a scam…

When the doors slid open, I was greeted by chaos. It looked more like a stock exchange than a cleaning center. Workers were running around with stacks of paper, shouting into headsets, some arguing loudly.

One woman, dressed in a sharp suit, caught sight of me and hurried over. She had her hair in a tight bun and looked way too professional for a place like this.

“Sorry about the noise,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I’m Emily Vaughn, the assistant here.”

I nodded. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

She gave me a quick once-over, then checked her tablet. “You’re Nina Chase, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Don’t worry,” Emily said, flashing a quick smile. “Today’s work isn’t that hard. Just follow the instructions, and you’ll be fine.”

She led me down a hallway, talking a mile a minute. “The trial period is just one day. Pass it, and you’ll be a full employee tomorrow.”

I tried to keep up with her words, but the whole place had me on edge. Something feels off. Why are they so desperate for people?

Emily led me into a small meeting room and finally stopped long enough to catch her breath. “Alright, let’s go over your pay structure. Base salary is 5,000 credits for three hours of work. Each additional hour adds 1,000 credits, and there’s commission based on performance. Different tasks get different bonuses, but you can easily make over 10,000 a day.”

What? The numbers spun in my head. Is this place rolling in cash or what? There’s no way a cleaning job pays that well unless it’s… dangerous.

I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, sounds great and all, but… what exactly am I cleaning?”

Emily paused for the first time, her smile fading. Her whole demeanor shifted, and she gave me a long, serious look. Oh no. This is where the catch comes in, isn’t it?

Finally, she lowered her voice and leaned in a bit. “Miss Chase,” she said, almost too quietly, “do you… fear monsters?”

My heart skipped a beat. Monsters?

A small, ironic laugh bubbled up in my throat. “Monsters? Not really… I’ve seen worse.”

Oh, if only you knew.