The phone vibrated again. Evelyn watched it move against the concrete floor.
Once.
Twice.
Then it stopped.
She didn't pick it up. Her mother might be calling. Or Hannah. Or Daniel. She wasn't sure which possibility frightened her more.
The storage room smelled of cardboard, dust, and something vaguely chemical. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead, illuminating shelves packed with supplies nobody seemed to need. It was an ordinary room. A forgotten corner of an ordinary university building.
Evelyn sat with her back against the door, holding a wad of paper towels against her injured arm. She had no idea how long she'd been there.
Five minutes?
Twenty?
Her phone displayed the time, but she didn't want to look. If she looked, she'd have to acknowledge that the world was continuing. That lectures were ending. That people were going to lunch. That somewhere outside, thousands—perhaps millions—of people were deciding whether killing her was worth a hundred thousand gold.
She pressed harder against her arm. Pain shot through her wrist.
"Ow."
She loosened her grip. The paper towels were turning red again. That was becoming a problem.
She needed proper bandages. A hospital would have them.
The thought almost made her laugh.
A hospital.
Somewhere with reception desks, waiting rooms, and staff who would ask for her name. Somewhere she would have to sit beneath fluorescent lights while strangers walked past.
Somewhere she could be trapped.
No.
Not a hospital.
Not unless she absolutely had to.
She looked down at her bloodstained shirt. The hole in the fabric had dried into an ugly, stiff circle. She touched it with one finger. Then immediately pulled her hand away.
Daniel.
She could still feel his arms around her. That was the worst part.
Not the knife.
Not even the pain.
The hug.
The familiar warmth of someone she'd trusted since childhood. He'd held her close enough that she could smell his laundry detergent.
Then he'd stabbed her.
Evelyn closed her eyes. She tried not to remember what happened next. Naturally, that made it worse.
Her knees drew toward her chest. She heard herself breathing. Too quickly.
She knew what a panic attack was. She'd studied them. She knew the symptoms, the physiological responses, the recommended techniques. Knowing any of that didn't make her feel less like she was dying.
Again.
"No."
Her voice sounded small.
She opened her eyes. The shelves were still there. The light was still buzzing. She was sitting on a cold floor.
She was alive.
She repeated the last part silently.
I'm alive.
It didn't help as much as she'd hoped. Because she knew what being dead felt like now. And the knowledge wasn't going anywhere.
Eventually, she forced herself to stand. Her legs were stiff. Her right arm hurt. She needed to find something to stop the bleeding.
The shelves held cleaning products, bin liners, paper towels, printer paper, and several boxes of miscellaneous office supplies.
She checked the first cabinet.
Locked.
The second contained a collection of broken staplers and old extension cables. She stared at them for a moment. Someone had apparently decided that throwing away a broken stapler was more trouble than keeping it forever.
Normally, she might have found that funny. Today, she just closed the cabinet.
Near the door, partly hidden behind a stack of flattened cardboard, was a small white first-aid box.
Evelyn stopped.
"Oh, thank God."
She pulled it open. Most of the contents were missing.
There were a few adhesive bandages, a roll of gauze, two sterile dressings, and a packet of disposable gloves.
No disinfectant.
No proper wound-cleaning solution.
Still.
Better than nothing.
She washed her hands as well as she could with the bottled water she'd found among the supplies, then carefully removed the blood-soaked paper towels from her forearm.
The cut was longer than she'd realized. It ran diagonally across the inside of her right forearm, from just below her elbow toward her wrist.
Not deep enough to expose muscle. But deep enough to hurt. And deep enough to make her worry.
Daniel had nearly caught her with the knife a second time.
If she'd moved a fraction slower—
Evelyn stopped herself. She couldn't think about that.
She rinsed the wound gently, wincing as the water touched it. Then she applied one of the sterile dressings and wrapped the gauze around her arm.
The result looked terrible. Uneven. Too bulky in one place. Too loose in another.
She adjusted it until it seemed reasonably secure.
"There."
She looked at her handiwork.
"Wonderful."
Her voice sounded strange in the empty room. Almost normal.
She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted to hear something normal. Even if it was herself.
The System notification remained at the edge of her vision. A small blue symbol. Waiting.
Evelyn had been deliberately ignoring it.
She'd spent most of her life treating System windows as conveniences.
Status.
Skills.
Quests.
Everyone used them. They were as ordinary as phones.
Some people checked their attributes every morning. Others obsessed over their levels, carefully planning which skills to improve and which classes to pursue.
Evelyn had never been one of them.
Her class was Novice Scholar. She'd received it after completing the standard aptitude evaluation in secondary school.
It wasn't prestigious. It wasn't particularly exciting. But it suited her.
She liked studying. She liked understanding things. She'd never wanted to fight monsters.
Now the System had announced that the entire world should kill her.
And she had no idea why.
Evelyn swallowed.
"Status."
A translucent window appeared. She flinched. Then felt ridiculous for flinching.
The window hadn't hurt her.
Not directly.
She stared at the familiar information.
StatusNameEvelyn HollowayAge21ClassNovice Scholar
Below it were her attributes.
Strength.
Agility.
Endurance.
Intelligence.
Wisdom.
Vitality.
Nothing remarkable.
Her Intelligence and Wisdom were slightly higher than average for someone her age. Her physical attributes were not. She'd always been more comfortable with books than exercise. Especially since her knee injury.
Then she noticed the notification waiting beneath her status.
She opened it.
System Notification[Fatal Damage Sustained.][Death Confirmed.][Unique Skill Activated: UNDYING][Resurrection Successful.][Adaptive Response Complete.][Vitality +1][Piercing Resistance Lv. 1 Acquired.]
Evelyn stared. The words didn't change. She read them again. Then a third time.
Death Confirmed.
Her stomach tightened.
She'd known. Of course she'd known. She remembered the knife. The blood. The darkness.
But seeing it written there—
It made everything horribly official.
She hadn't fainted. She hadn't imagined it. She had died.
The System said so.
She pressed a hand against her mouth. For several seconds, she couldn't breathe properly.
Then she looked at the next line.
Resurrection Successful.
Successful.
As though someone had completed a routine procedure. As though she'd submitted an assignment and received a passing grade.
Evelyn laughed. The sound surprised her. She laughed again. Then her laughter turned into something else.
She sank onto a cardboard box and covered her face.
She'd died. She'd actually died.
And the System had given her one point of Vitality.
One.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand an explanation. She wanted to ask why.
Why her?
Why Daniel?
Why any of this?
But there was nobody to answer. The System window hovered in front of her. Silent. Indifferent.
Eventually, she wiped her eyes. Her hands were still trembling.
She focused on the unfamiliar skill.
Undying.
A description appeared.
UNDYINGUnique SkillUpon death, the user will be resurrected.Resurrection restores the body to a viable state.Repeated fatal experiences may trigger adaptive responses.
Evelyn read the description slowly.
Upon death, the user will be resurrected.
She tried to understand what that meant. Not theoretically. Not as a game mechanic.
As something that applied to her.
If someone stabbed her again—
Would she return?
If she fell from a building?
If someone burned her alive?
Her imagination supplied the possibilities before she could stop it. She dismissed the window.
Her breathing had become uneven again.
"No."
She pressed her palms against her knees.
"No, no, no."
She didn't want to test it. She didn't want to know. She never wanted to die again.
Not once.
Not ever.
The thought of returning to that darkness made her feel sick. She'd been alone there. Completely alone.
She remembered calling for her mother. She remembered how her voice had seemed to disappear into the emptiness.
There had been no answer. No light. No ground. Nothing to hold onto.
And she had no idea how long she'd been there.
Seconds?
Minutes?
Longer?
She didn't know. She didn't want to find out.
A few minutes passed before she noticed her knee. It happened almost accidentally.
She stood to put the first-aid box away, shifted her weight, and realized something was missing.
Pain.
Her right knee didn't hurt.
Evelyn looked down. She bent it experimentally. Then straightened it.
Nothing.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Four years.
Four years since she'd torn the ligament during a football match. Four years of physiotherapy, exercises, appointments, and being told that magical healing would probably fix the remaining damage.
If she could afford it.
She couldn't.
Her parents had offered to help, but the cost was ridiculous for something that wasn't considered medically urgent.
So she'd learned to live with it. Stopped playing football. Stopped running for buses. Stopped taking stairs two at a time.
And now—
She bent her knee again.
Perfectly.
Her mouth fell open. For one brief moment, something like happiness rose inside her.
Then she remembered why.
She'd died.
Her knee was healed because she'd died.
Evelyn sat down. She stared at her leg.
"That's not fair."
It was a stupid thing to say. She knew that. The world had just announced a reward for her murder, and she was complaining about her knee.
But she couldn't help it.
Four years of pain.
Gone.
Just like that.
And the price had been the worst experience of her life.
She rubbed her face. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So she did neither.
She just sat there until the feeling passed.
Footsteps sounded outside.
Evelyn froze.
Two voices.
Male.
Close.
"...saw her near the courtyard."
"Are you sure?"
"Blood all over her shirt. Brown hair. About the right age."
Her heart began hammering. The voices moved closer.
"Could've been someone else."
"How many girls named Evelyn Holloway do you think are running around covered in blood right now?"
A short laugh.
"Fair point."
Evelyn stood slowly. Her eyes darted around the room.
Nowhere to hide.
The shelves were too narrow. The cabinets too small. There was a stack of cardboard boxes near the back wall, but she'd never fit behind them.
The footsteps stopped outside. A shadow crossed the gap beneath the door.
"Check that one."
The handle moved. Evelyn clamped a hand over her mouth.
The door rattled. Then stopped.
"Locked."
It wasn't locked. She knew it wasn't locked.
The handle moved again. Harder. Something scraped against the frame.
Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut.
Please.
A voice called from farther down the corridor.
"Hey! You two!"
The handle stopped.
"What?"
"What are you doing back here?"
"Looking for someone."
"Students aren't allowed in the service area."
"Yeah, well—"
"I don't care. Out."
A muttered curse. Footsteps. Then the sound of the double doors opening and closing.
Evelyn remained motionless. She didn't know how long she waited.
Eventually, the corridor fell silent. Her knees felt weak.
She looked at the door. The handle had been loose when she'd entered.
Maybe it had jammed. Maybe the men hadn't tried very hard.
She didn't know. She didn't care.
They'd been looking for a girl in bloody clothes.
And she was still wearing bloody clothes.
Evelyn looked down.
"Idiot."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
She was practically advertising herself. She couldn't go outside like this.
She began searching the room again. This time, she wasn't looking for medical supplies.
She needed clothes.
Anything.
The first box contained broken keyboards. The second held folders from a university event several years earlier. The third was filled with plastic cups and unopened packets of paper napkins.
She almost gave up.
Then she noticed a large cardboard box beneath an old folding table. Someone had written SPORTS DAY — LOST PROPERTY across the side.
Evelyn dragged it out. The cardboard scraped against the floor.
Inside were several faded T-shirts, a pair of trainers, two hoodies, a baseball cap, and a tangled collection of clothing that looked as though nobody had wanted to claim it.
She stared. Then she laughed quietly.
"Of course."
She pulled out a dark grey hoodie.
Too large.
Good.
A pair of black jogging trousers came next. They looked as though they might fit, although the elastic waistband had seen better days.
There was also a faded blue baseball cap with the university's old athletics logo.
Evelyn laid everything on the floor. Then she reached for the hem of her shirt.
Her fingers stopped.
The fabric was stiff with drying blood. She looked at the hole near her stomach.
Daniel's knife had gone through there.
She remembered looking down at the handle. Remembered trying to understand what had happened.
Her breathing quickened.
She couldn't take it off.
For several seconds, she simply stood there, gripping the fabric. Then she shut her eyes.
"It's just a shirt."
Her voice trembled.
"Just a shirt."
She pulled it over her head. The movement tugged at her injured arm. Pain shot through her forearm.
She gasped.
The shirt fell to the floor.
Evelyn stared at her stomach.
Smooth skin.
No wound.
Not even a scar.
She touched the place where the knife had entered.
Nothing.
She pressed harder.
Still nothing.
Her body insisted she'd never been injured.
Her memory disagreed.
She snatched up the hoodie and pulled it on. It smelled faintly of dust and old detergent. The sleeves covered most of her hands.
She changed into the jogging trousers, then stuffed her bloody clothes into an empty rubbish bag.
For a moment, she considered taking them.
Then she imagined someone finding her with a bag full of bloodstained clothing.
No.
She tied the bag shut and pushed it beneath a pile of old packaging. It wasn't a particularly clever hiding place. But it was better than carrying them around.
She picked up the baseball cap. Her hair was still messy from running. She gathered it into a loose knot and tucked as much of it beneath the cap as she could.
The narrow window above the boxes reflected a dim, distorted version of her face.
Evelyn stepped closer.
A young woman in an oversized grey hoodie stared back. The trousers were slightly too short. The cap looked ridiculous. Her face was pale, and there were still traces of dried blood near her jaw.
She wiped them away with a damp paper towel. Then she looked again.
Better.
Not good.
But better.
She no longer looked like someone who'd just been stabbed. She looked like a tired university student wearing clothes that didn't quite fit.
That was something.
Her phone vibrated. Evelyn nearly dropped the cap.
A message from Hannah.
Evie, please tell me you're okay.
Another appeared.
People are looking for you.
Then:
Some guy was asking everyone in our lecture if they'd seen you.
Evelyn's stomach tightened.
Daniel?
She typed with one hand.
Who?
The reply came almost immediately.
Don't know. Didn't recognize him.
A pause.
He had a sword.
Evelyn stared at the screen.
A sword.
Of course.
Adventurers carried weapons. Some of them carried swords to university when they weren't even attending classes.
She wanted to ask Hannah a dozen questions.
What did he look like?
Was he alone?
Did he know her name?
Had he hurt anyone?
Instead, she typed:
Please don't tell anyone where I am.
Hannah replied:
I won't.
Then:
But Evie, what is going on? Why would the System do this?
Evelyn looked at the World Quest notification still waiting at the edge of her vision. She hadn't opened it since the lecture.
She didn't want to.
But she needed to know.
She focused on it. The familiar blue window expanded.
World Quest[WORLD QUEST]KILL EVELYN HOLLOWAYObjectivePermanently eliminate Evelyn Holloway.Reward:- 100,000 Gold- Legendary Equipment Set- Additional Reward???StatusACTIVE
There was no explanation. No reason. No accusation.
Just her name.
And a reward.
She looked for a portrait. There wasn't one.
She looked for a location marker.
Nothing.
That was something. At least the System wasn't showing everyone exactly where she was.
But her name was enough.
People knew where she studied. Where she lived. Who her family was.
She thought about the men who'd been searching the corridor. They'd known she was wearing bloody clothes. They'd known she had brown hair.
But had they known her face?
Maybe not.
The young man in the courtyard hadn't recognized her. Neither had the maintenance worker, as far as Evelyn could tell.
Most people had probably never heard of Evelyn Holloway before today. She wasn't famous. She didn't have thousands of followers.
She was just a student.
A student whose name had suddenly appeared in front of every person on Earth.
Evelyn glanced at her reflection again. The hoodie. The cap. The different trousers.
It might work.
Not against someone who knew her. Not against Daniel. And probably not against anyone who'd taken the time to find her photographs online.
But a stranger walking past her on the street?
Maybe.
For the first time since she'd entered the room, she felt the smallest hint of relief.
Then she thought of something else.
Her name.
If someone asked—
She couldn't say Evelyn.
Not anymore.
At least not to someone she didn't trust.
She looked at the reflection.
"What's your name?"
The question sounded absurd in the empty room.
She tried to imagine someone asking it. A shop assistant. A bus driver. Someone who'd found her wandering around looking lost.
"Evelyn."
She immediately shook her head.
No.
Not Evelyn.
Something else. Something ordinary. A name nobody would remember.
"Emma," she whispered.
She waited. It sounded strange.
She tried again.
"My name is Emma."
The girl in the reflection didn't look convinced. Evelyn wasn't convinced either.
But perhaps that didn't matter.
She wasn't trying to become someone else. She just needed people to stop looking for Evelyn Holloway long enough for her to get away.
Her phone vibrated again. This time, the name on the screen made her stomach turn.
Daniel Mercer
She stared. The message preview appeared.
Evie, please read this.
She didn't want to. Her thumb moved anyway.
The conversation opened. There were six unread messages.
I'm sorry about your arm.
I panicked.
You have to understand I didn't know you'd come back.
But now we know.
Please don't make this harder than it needs to be.
The last message had arrived less than a minute ago.
I can fix this.
Evelyn stared at the words. Her breathing became shallow.
He was sorry about her arm.
Not about killing her.
Not about watching her bleed out on the floor.
Her arm.
She scrolled upward.
Earlier messages.
Normal messages.
A joke about Professor Whitmore. A photograph of a ridiculous-looking dog. Daniel asking whether she wanted to get lunch.
Her own reply.
Maybe after class.
She remembered sending it. She remembered thinking about whether she had enough money for lunch. She remembered smiling at the dog.
Her hands began shaking so badly that she almost dropped the phone.
Daniel had been her friend for years. He'd helped her study for exams. He'd sat beside her in hospital after her knee injury. He'd brought her that stupid stuffed penguin.
He'd hugged her.
Then he'd pushed a knife into her stomach.
Evelyn pressed the phone against her chest.
"No," she whispered.
The word sounded strange in the little room.
"No."
She opened the conversation again. Her thumb hovered over the block button.
Then stopped.
If she blocked him, she wouldn't know what he was planning.
If he sent another message—
If he said where he was—
She might have some warning.
Evelyn lowered the phone. She couldn't decide.
That frightened her almost as much as the messages.
She'd always been good at thinking things through. At considering possibilities. At finding explanations for why people behaved the way they did.
She was studying psychology, for God's sake.
But none of that helped her understand how someone she'd trusted could murder her and still believe he was being kind.
Her phone vibrated once more.
Another message from Daniel.
Where are you?
Evelyn turned off the screen.
She looked toward the door. The corridor was quiet.
Outside, somewhere beyond the building, students were still going about their day. Some were probably sitting in lectures. Some were eating lunch. Some were making plans for the weekend.
And some were looking for her.
She glanced at the oversized sleeves covering her bandaged arm. At the baseball cap. At the reflection in the narrow window.
Emma.
It was a stupid plan.
A different name and a change of clothes.
That was all she had.
She knew it wouldn't fool someone who was seriously looking for her. Anyone with access to university records or her social media profiles could probably find a photograph within minutes.
But perhaps she didn't need to fool everyone.
Perhaps she only needed to pass unnoticed by the next person she met.
And the next.
And the next.
Until she could figure out what to do.
Evelyn picked up her phone and slipped it into her pocket. Then she reached for the door.
Her hand stopped on the handle.
She remembered the footsteps. The voices. The people who'd been searching for her.
She listened.
Nothing.
She opened the door a few centimeters. The corridor was empty.
Evelyn stepped outside.
For the first time in her life, she was afraid of the entire world.
And somewhere out there, the world was looking for her.