She didn't ask how he knew. In Verance, information was cheaper than water.
The rain over Verance City wasn't the cleansing kind. It was the sticky, electric kind—the kind that made neon signs bleed into puddles and turned every back alley into a mirror of regret. Olivia Sparkle knew regret better than most.
"I don't need a lecture on loan sharks. I'm already drowning in them." debt4k olivia sparkle
She stood under the awning of a shuttered synth-repair shop, the collar of her faux-leather jacket turned up, her reflection fractured in a dozen wet windows. Her hair—once a brilliant, defiant pink—now hung in dull rose strands, darkened by months of cheap dye and cheaper decisions.
"Fine," she said. "But I do it my way."
Her stomach clenched. The number hadn't changed. Four thousand creds. Four thousand reasons she couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't look her mother in the eye when she called.
Her wristband buzzed. Not a call. A notification. She didn't ask how he knew
"Spire building. Level 14. Midnight. Don't be late."