“Well, it was someone who reported that a girl was being kept hostage in my apartment. Probably someone saw you entering my house,” Marcus said.
He leaned in closer, checking her over for injuries from the failed jump.
She looked fine, to be honest.
Marie felt even more depressed hearing this.
She already believed she was a burden — now she’d even caused this much trouble for a stranger.
Taking a deep breath, she finally gathered the courage to speak.
“Hey, mister… I mean, Marcus. Why don’t I just go to the cops and tell them it’s not like they think it is?”
Marcus sighed.
“It doesn’t work that way. First off, you should already be on a missing person’s report. And second, it’s going to look — from your face — like I forced you to say something like this.”
The words landed, and Marie’s depression gave way to confusion.
Why would they think that from seeing her face?
Was there something on her face?
“What do you mean, from my face?” Marie asked, her brow furrowing.
“Is there something wrong with it?”
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost like he regretted bringing it up.
“No, nothing’s wrong with it. I mean…” He paused, searching for the right way to put it.
“You look scared. Right now. All the time, actually, since you showed up at my door. Anyone who looks at you is gonna see that and think the worst — that somebody’s hurting you. And then they see me standing next to you, and they’re gonna assume it’s me.”
Marie’s hand drifted up, touching her own cheek like she could somehow feel what he was describing.
“I don’t look…” she started, then stopped.
She wasn’t sure that was even true.
Marcus wasn’t listening anymore.
His attention had already drifted inward, toward the faint blue glow only he could see.
Two options sat in the shop.
[Ghost Line — Burner Phone & Forged ID Set]
[Skin Ward — Insulated Gloves & Undersleeve Set]
The gloves could wait.
Right now, the phone and the fake IDs mattered more — hotel check-ins, maybe a car down the line, maybe a place to actually live.
Without paper trails, none of that was possible.
Buy Ghost Line.
[- 20 Merit Points]
[Current Balance: 80 Merit Points]
One day.
He had time.
The gloves could come later.
The IDs sat heavy in his pocket.
Marcus glanced up at her.
“Let’s go find a place to stay.” He waved a hand, signaling for her to follow.
“You can walk now, right?” He paused for a second, watching her.
Marie hesitated, glancing down at her legs.
She pushed herself up off the ground, her knees trembling for a second before she finally found her balance.
Taking a slow, experimental step to make sure she wasn’t going to collapse, she gave him a stiff nod.
Once she was sure her legs were going to work, she fell into step behind him.
A few blocks away, Marcus ducked into a small roadside clothing store wedged between a laundromat and a phone repair shop.
“Grab whatever fits,” he said, already pulling a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans off a rack for himself.
“We can’t keep wearing the same thing.”
Marie hesitated, then picked through the women’s section, settling on a plain shirt, jeans, and a jacket.
Marcus paid in cash at the counter, and they were back out on the street a few minutes later, bags in hand.
The walk to the hotel took maybe ten minutes, cutting through side streets Marcus seemed to know from memory.
The place had a faded sign and a lobby that hadn’t been renovated since the ’90s—exactly the kind that didn’t ask questions.
Cash covered the check-in under the fake IDs.
The woman at the front desk barely looked up from her crossword.
Once inside the room, Marcus dropped the bags of new clothes onto the bed and headed straight for the bathroom.
The door clicked shut.
Marie stayed by the bed for a moment, unsure what to do with herself.
Water started running on the other side of the wall.
She finally sat down on the edge of the mattress, still in her damp clothes.
The room was quiet except for the muffled sound of the shower.
She stared at the carpet, her mind still catching up with everything that had happened in the last hour—the roof, the fall, his hand grabbing her wrist.
She hadn’t had a single second to actually process any of it until now.
A few minutes passed.
She looked up when the bathroom door opened.
Marcus stepped out, a towel slung over one shoulder.
His hair was damp and pushed back, and he was already wearing one of the plain shirts they’d just bought.
He wasn’t paying attention to her, just running a hand through his hair, focused on drying it.
Marie’s eyes tracked him from the floor up, and she swallowed hard.
She was a teenager, and her hormones were bound to kick in eventually, but there was no denying it—whoever this Marcus guy was, he was incredibly handsome.
How old is he, anyway? she thought.
The dark, depressing thoughts from just moments ago were entirely pushed out by a sudden spike of teenage hormones.
Realizing she had been staring for way too long, she quickly averted her eyes and glued her gaze to the floor.
“You can go in now and take a shower or whatever,” he said, flopping flat onto his back on the mattress.
Marie just nodded, grabbed her bag of clothes, and hurried into the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind her.
Out in the room, Marcus stared at the closed door for a second, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth.
Well… am I too handsome, or what?
The shower kicked back on behind the bathroom door.
Marcus lay there a moment longer, staring at the ceiling, before he pulled the System menu back up.
[System Shop]
[Current Balance: 80 Merit Points]
[Skin Ward — Insulated Gloves & Undersleeve Set — 30 Merit Points]
He’d meant to grab this earlier, before the whole “wrap it up in leather work gloves” workaround.
Real solution beat a bodega fix any day.
Buy Skin Ward.
[- 30 Merit Points]
[Current Balance: 50 Merit Points]
A second later, a folded bundle materialized on the mattress beside him — thin black gloves, soft to the touch, paired with a long-sleeve undershirt that looked more like compression wear than anything medical.
He picked up the gloves, turning them over.
Barely any weight to them.
Nothing like the bulky leather pair from the bodega.