Evelyn Holloway had stolen a book from a library.
She was still having trouble accepting that.
The supermarket had been one thing. She'd been hungry, filthy, and in desperate need of clothes that didn't have bullet holes in them. Stealing had seemed like a reasonable alternative to starving in a ditch.
Not a particularly admirable alternative, admittedly. But reasonable.
The library was different.
Libraries were supposed to be places where people shared knowledge. Where books were available to anyone who needed them. Especially now, when so many had closed and the remaining ones depended on people caring enough to keep them open.
And she'd stolen from one.
A book about healing, of all things.
"Wonderful," she muttered. "I'm officially a terrible person."
She adjusted the backpack on her shoulder. It was heavier now. The thick volume of *Restoration and Recovery: A Study of Healing Skills* pressed against her back through the fabric. Somewhere beneath it were her spare clothes, toiletries, and the food she'd managed not to eat yet.
At least the book was useful.
Two percent.
She'd made two percent progress toward learning Heal simply by reading.
That was something.
She'd acquired Skill Comprehension, discovered that her Novice Scholar class might actually be useful, and found the name of a researcher in London who studied unusual System abilities.
For the first time since the World Quest appeared, she'd made progress that didn't involve dying.
It felt almost suspicious.
Evelyn pulled her hood a little farther over her disastrous blonde hair and continued along the pavement.
Briarford was busy enough that she could disappear among the afternoon shoppers, but not so busy that she felt comfortable. She passed a bakery, and the smell of fresh bread made her stomach complain.
She considered going inside.
Then remembered she had no money.
"Right. Forgot about that."
A woman carrying two shopping bags gave her a strange look. Evelyn smiled weakly and kept walking.
She needed somewhere to sleep. Somewhere quiet, preferably with a door that locked.
Unfortunately, her current accommodation budget consisted of absolutely nothing.
She could probably find another shed.
Perhaps she should start rating them.
*Four stars. Excellent ventilation. Slightly damp. No murderers during my stay.*
She almost smiled.
Then she heard someone behind her say, "Wait a minute."
Evelyn kept walking.
It probably wasn't about her. People said things like that all the time.
"Oi. You there. Grey hoodie."
Her stomach tightened.
There were thousands of people wearing grey hoodies.
Probably.
She didn't look back.
"Blonde girl."
Oh.
That narrowed things down.
"Hey!"
Footsteps quickened behind her.
Evelyn turned at the next corner.
A hand caught her shoulder.
She flinched so violently that the man immediately let go.
"Easy," he said. "Just want to ask you something."
Evelyn stared at him.
He was perhaps twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair and a leather jacket reinforced with metal plates. A sword hung at his hip.
An adventurer.
Of course.
Because apparently Briarford couldn't go an entire afternoon without someone trying to collect a hundred thousand gold.
"Sorry," she said. "You've got the wrong person."
"I haven't said who I'm looking for."
"Then I'm sure you'll find them."
She turned away.
He stepped in front of her.
Two more people approached from farther along the pavement. A woman with a short bow across her back, and a tall man carrying a spear.
Evelyn's heart began pounding.
Three.
There were three of them.
The swordsman studied her face.
"Your hair's different."
Evelyn forced a laugh.
"That's generally what happens when you dye it."
"What's your name?"
"Emma."
"Emma what?"
"Collins."
The woman with the bow stopped beside him.
"What's going on?"
"Think I've found someone."
She looked at Evelyn.
Then frowned.
"Her?"
"Look at her face."
The woman examined her more closely.
Evelyn wanted to disappear.
She'd spent hours changing her hair, and it apparently hadn't accomplished much beyond making her look ridiculous.
The spearman approached from behind.
"What's the problem?"
The swordsman pulled out his phone.
Evelyn felt cold.
He tapped the screen, then held it up.
A photograph. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Her photograph.
Not a particularly flattering one. It looked like something taken from an old university social media post.
Dark hair. Smiling. Alive.
Before everything.
The swordsman looked from the photograph to her face.
"Well?"
Evelyn swallowed.
"That's not me."
"Really?"
"Lots of people look alike."
"Same eyes. Same nose."
"Very common nose."
The woman gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
The swordsman didn't.
"Take your hood off."
"No."
His expression hardened.
"Take it off."
Evelyn stepped backward.
The spearman was behind her. The woman stood to her left. The swordsman blocked the pavement ahead.
People were beginning to notice. A couple stopped near a shop window. Someone farther down the street raised a phone.
Evelyn's breathing quickened.
"Please," she said. "Just leave me alone."
The swordsman reached for her arm.
She pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
"Then stop making this difficult."
"I haven't done anything!"
"You know what the World Quest says."
"Yes, I know what it says!"
Her voice cracked.
Several pedestrians turned.
The swordsman glanced around.
"Keep your voice down."
"Then let me go!"
He reached again.
Evelyn twisted away, but her backpack caught against the edge of a metal railing.
She stumbled.
The swordsman grabbed the strap.
"Got you."
Something inside her snapped.
Not anger.
Not courage.
Panic.
Pure, exhausted panic.
She'd been captured before. Chained to a bed. Poisoned. Electrocuted. Burned.
She remembered Catherine Reed smiling at her. Daniel telling her he was helping. The pistol. The knife.
The way people always seemed to think they had a perfectly reasonable explanation for hurting her.
"No!"
Evelyn yanked the backpack free.
The swordsman tightened his grip.
She twisted.
The strap slipped from his fingers.
And Evelyn swung the bag at him with everything she had.
It was not a graceful movement.
It was not a trained attack.
She didn't aim for a weak point or activate a Skill.
She simply hit him.
The backpack struck his shoulder and the side of his head with a heavy, awkward thump.
He swore.
Staggered sideways.
His heel caught the edge of a low stone step leading up to a shop entrance.
For one absurd moment, his arms windmilled.
Then he fell.
Backward.
His head struck the sharp edge of the step.
The sound was horrible.
A hard, hollow crack.
And then he was still.
***
Evelyn stared.
The man lay half on the pavement, half against the step. His sword had come loose and clattered beside him. One arm was twisted beneath his body.
He wasn't moving.
The woman with the bow rushed past Evelyn.
"Ryan?"
She dropped to her knees beside him.
"Ryan, get up."
The spearman followed.
"Ryan?"
Evelyn stood motionless.
Her hands were still gripping the backpack strap.
She could hear traffic.
Someone laughing farther down the street. Get faster updates on g.com.
The soft mechanical hum of a shop door opening and closing.
Everything sounded strangely distant.
The woman touched the back of Ryan's head.
Her hand came away red.
Evelyn stared at it.
The blood.
The pavement.
The unmoving body.
Her mind refused to connect them.
The spearman knelt and checked Ryan's neck.
Once.
Then again.
His expression changed.
The woman looked at him.
"Tom?"
He didn't answer.
"Tom!"
A blue window appeared in Evelyn's vision.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
**Enemy Defeated**
Experience awarded.
[LEVEL UP]
**Novice Scholar — Lv. 1 → Lv. 2**
[LEVEL UP]
**Novice Scholar — Lv. 2 → Lv. 3**
[CLASS EVOLUTION AVAILABLE]
The words floated in front of her.
Evelyn read them.
Then read them again.
Enemy defeated.
Experience awarded.
Ryan wasn't moving.
The woman was crying.
The spearman was staring at his friend.
Evelyn couldn't think.
Her thoughts had become a meaningless jumble of disconnected images.
The backpack.
The step.
The sound.
The blood.
She'd swung a bag.
He'd fallen.
And now the System was giving her experience.
Her fingers loosened around the strap.
For a moment, she thought she might faint.
Then Tom looked up.
His eyes found hers.
And something inside Evelyn switched back on.
Danger.
She was still standing here.
They were still here.
And one of them had a spear.
She turned.
And ran.
"HEY!"
Footsteps scraped against the pavement.
"STOP!"
Evelyn sprinted down the street.
She barely registered the people jumping out of her way.
Her backpack slammed against her spine with every step.
She couldn't get enough air.
She didn't know where she was going.
Only that she had to get away.
Behind her, Tom shouted something.
She didn't understand the words.
She turned toward a narrow passage between two buildings.
A few more steps.
Just a few—
Something whistled through the air.
There was a tremendous impact between her shoulder blades.
Evelyn jerked forward.
For an instant, she felt nothing but the force of the blow.
Then she looked down.
A metal spearhead protruded from her chest.
Blood spread across the front of her grey hoodie.
Her feet tangled beneath her.
She stumbled into the passage, struck the wall with one shoulder, and collapsed to her knees.
The spear shaft trembled behind her.
She tried to breathe.
Nothing happened.
Then the pain arrived.
And Evelyn screamed.