The corridor stretched before Robert like a tunnel into oblivion—cold, silent, and humming faintly with the ever-present buzz of the newly installed security cameras. The metallic scent of disinfectant clung to the air, mixing with the faint ozone of overworked circuitry. The walls, sleek and unyielding, felt as if they were closing in.

  His pulse pounded against his ribs, each beat sending a fresh jolt of pain radiating from the point where the needle had pierced him. A dull ache settled beneath his skin, deeper than any mere wound.

  His steps were measured, quick but careful, his instincts screaming at him to appear unremarkable. He couldn't afford to let his discomfort show. Couldn't afford even the slightest misstep. Every shadow in this place had eyes.

  Then there was a sudden movement.

  A figure stepped into his path, materializing from the dimness like a specter. Robert's breath hitched, and he barely stopped himself from colliding into the man. His hands clenched instinctively, a flash of heat racing through his veins.

  Commander J. Mark.

  The man stood tall, his imposing frame nearly swallowing the space between them. His shoulders cast long, jagged shadows under the corridor's flickering lights. The cold steel of his gaze locked onto Robert.

  Robert fought the instinct to shift, to adjust his posture, to give anything away. Instead, he met the man's gaze head-on, unwavering.

  For a moment, neither of them moved.

  Commander Mark's eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "What exactly are you doing here? You should be at your post."

  He steadied himself, forcing his voice to stay even.

  "I had some unfinished work, sir."

  "Down here?"

  "I... apologize, sir," Robert replied, gripping his hands tightly to hide their tremor. "I heard a rumor about us going into rationing soon. I came to get some credits to stock up for winter."

  Commander Mark's gaze lingered on him, scrutinizing his every move. "You shouldn't listen to rumors... usually. This time, I do suggest you stock up. Just remember not to tell anyone, or there'll be hysteria among the masses." He cocked his head, the smirk fading.

  Robert swallowed, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Yes, sir! Thank you!"

  The commander's smirk returned, though there was no warmth in his eyes. His gaze sharpened, the smile fading into something colder. "Keep an eye out, soldier. Last thing we need around here is more trouble, so keep an eye out, understood?"

  Robert forced a nod, the weight of the belt around his waist suddenly feeling like a lead weight. "Yes, sir."

  Mark took a step closer, leaning in until his face was mere inches from Robert's. "Lighten up, would you?" His voice was a quiet, sinister whisper.

  "You're walking around here like a ghost. People might think you're in prison, don't you think?"

  The commander's words twisted in Robert's mind, the absurdity and tension thickening. He nodded, jaw clenched tightly. "Of course, sir... I'll try to keep that in mind."

  Commander Mark's smile disappeared, his gaze hardening once more. "Make sure you do," he said, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Nothing goes unnoticed here, Robert. Especially not by me. How did your meeting with Albert go?"

  "It went well, sir."

  "Hmm. Very well, on your way, soldier."

  With a final, piercing look, the commander turned and strode away, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. Robert's pulse pounded, every nerve taut.

  He glanced down, pressing a hand against the hidden belt buckle, feeling the faint pulse of his blood where the needle had pricked his skin.

  "This place is a prison," Robert muttered, the words escaping like smoke from a clenched jaw.

  The corridor felt colder now, even in Mark's absence. That man didn't need to be present to leave a trace—his authority hung in the air like residue, a pressure that pressed down on Robert's shoulders long after he'd walked away.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Straightening his spine with effort, Robert resumed his march down the empty hallway, boots echoing faintly against the polished floors. But it wasn't just his own footsteps he heard. It was the phantom sound of Mark's voice replaying in his mind, each syllable like a hook dragging across his thoughts.

  First Albert and now the Commander too.

  He entered his quarters, letting the door close behind him with a soft hiss. The sterile silence of the room offered no comfort. Without hesitation, he rushed into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him as if afraid someone might enter unannounced.

  The mirror caught his reflection: pale, strained, sweat lining his brow. He didn't look like a soldier anymore. Clenching his fists, he slammed the sink in frustration.

  I bet I looked suspicious.

  Robert’s gaze dropped to the belt.

  There it was—wrapped tightly around his waist like a parasite, its smooth, metallic surface catching the harsh bathroom light. The needle buried within the buckle still throbbed faintly against his skin, a cold and aching reminder of the risk he'd taken.

  "How can this enhance anything when it's this damn uncomfortable?" he growled, hissing through his teeth.

  Carefully, he adjusted it, his fingers fumbling along the metal edges, trying to shift its position without disturbing the needle again. The belt resisted, rigid and unforgiving, as if it were mocking him for thinking it could ever be worn like something normal.

  At the center of the buckle, a red, opaque bulb sat dormant—cold, dull, lifeless.

  Robert stared at it, narrowing his eyes.

  "Maybe... it's a button?"

  He pressed it, cautiously at first. Nothing. Then again, with a little more force-nothing happened other than the needle driving deeper into his abdomen.

  "Ahh—shit!" he gasped, his hand shooting out to brace himself against the wall.

  The agony surged like a pulse, sharp and hot-and then something stranger followed. A ripple-no, a current—rushed down his right arm. A tingling sensation prickled through it, like static crawling beneath the skin.

  At the same time, the belt emitted a faint crimson glow.

  It pulsed for half a second—no more—before vanishing like a breath extinguished in the wind.

  Robert stood frozen, panting, eyes wide. He stared at the mirror again, trying to comprehend if he truly saw what he'd just seen.

  "What the hell was that?" he whispered, the question trembling out of him.

  No answer came. Only the quiet drip of the faucet.

  But something had definitely changed. The belt had activated. It had done something in that half second.

  He felt it run down his arm.

  Just as Robert leaned closer to examine the belt again—still buzzing with questions and that lingering crimson afterglowThe door to his quarters slid open with a whirr.

  "Fuck me, man. I want to go back home already," came the voice, loud and unfiltered.

  Robert's heart nearly stopped.

  He scrambled, shoving the belt beneath a stack of folded uniforms beside the sink and darting out of the bathroom just as Apstra, his roommate, stepped into the room.

  Apstra froze mid-step. "Jesus, Robert! What the hell?"

  Robert held up both hands, breath still shallow.

  "Sorry—I just needed to hit the bathroom real quick before heading back to post."

  Apstra narrowed his eyes, his hand still on the strap of his gear bag. "Next time, maybe don't spring out of the bathroom like a damn horror sim, yeah?"

  "Noted," Robert muttered, already moving toward the door, trying to keep the thudding of his heart off his face.

  But Apstra wasn't done. "Oh, before I forget— I heard we're going back into rationing. Official orders kick in next week."

  Robert paused, one hand on the doorknob.

  "Seriously?"

  "Yup." Apstra dropped his gear onto his bunk with a heavy sigh. "I'm stocking up while I still can. You should too."

  Robert nodded. "Yeah. After shift, I'll head into town—grab whatever's left on the shelves."

  Apstra reached into his coat and pulled out a few folded credits, handing them over. "Here. Make sure to grab plenty of non-perishables. Stuff that won't rot if we go dark again."

  Robert accepted the bills, the tension in his shoulders momentarily softening. "Thanks. I will."

  Apstra gave a lazy salute as he kicked off his boots. "Good man. Now go before someone notices your 'quick pit stop' turned into a five-minute vanishing act."

  Robert chuckled, faint but genuine. "On it."

  But as the door slid shut behind him and the corridor swallowed him up again, that familiar weight returned—not just from the belt concealed beneath layers of cloth, but from the secrets settling deeper into his bones.

  Rationing. Tests. Hidden tech. And whatever the hell happened to his hand when the light on the belt came on.

  Things were only getting more complicated.

  Things were changing, and it was getting harder to breathe.