<Thirty Minutes/>

The top floor of the apartment complex was a stark contrast to the lower levels. It was cleaner, more polished—almost as if the landlord only cared about maintaining his own space while the rest of the building fell into disrepair. 

The hallway was dimly lit, the glow of overhead fluorescents flickering slightly, casting eerie shadows along the narrow walls.

The floor was tiled, unlike the cracked, uneven concrete below. A patterned rug stretched across the corridor, damp from the moisture creeping in from the rain outside. 

The landlord's door stood at the very end of the hall—a reinforced steel door, pristine and imposing, completely out of place in a building like this. 

A security panel was mounted beside it, blinking blue, scanning for authorized access. 

Unlike the tenants' apartments, which had flimsy locks easily broken into, this one was a fortress.

A small, wall-mounted security camera stared down from the ceiling, its red light glowing faintly. Watching. Recording.

This wasn't just a landlord's residence.

It was a reminder.

That no matter how hard people like us fought—no matter how much we gave—there would always be people at the top, living comfortably, looking down on the rest of us like we were nothing.

And right outside that door—Damian knelt.

Kneeling on the smooth, hard tile.

A crutch balanced against his side, his hands braced against his knee, gripping tight like he was trying to keep himself together. His face was twisted in barely concealed pain, but he held himself still, forcing himself to endure.

My breath caught in my throat.

Then something inside me snapped.

Brixley gasped beside me. "Brother, you shouldn't—your leg…!"

She ran to him, already sobbing again. She tried to help him up, but the moment she touched him, he winced. His grip on the crutch tightened.

"Brix… what are you doing here?" He forced a weak smile, but even through the rain, I could see the cracks. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Fine?

Fine?!

"You're not fine," I said, my voice low, cold. My hands curled into fists.

Damian's head snapped up at the sound of my voice. His eyes widened slightly.

"N-Noah? What are you doing here? Is something wrong at the academy?"

I stared at him.

The academy? That's what he thought?

Not that his own brother had to watch him kneel in the damn rain, begging some greedy bastard for mercy?

I took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing the rage down. Barely.

"What are you doing, Damian?" My voice was quiet, but there was nothing soft about it.

He stiffened.

"We don't beg," I said, stepping closer. "No matter how bad things get."

His hands clenched.

"I'm still here." I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "I can support us."

Damian let out a shaky breath. His weak smile wavered, then fell.

"…I guess you know."

His gaze dropped to the wet concrete beneath him.

Yeah. I knew. GAIA had discarded him. Stripped him of everything.

Everything he had worked for. Everything he had sacrificed.

And now?

Now he was here, kneeling, because he thought it was the only way to keep us afloat.

Because in his mind, if he didn't provide, we wouldn't survive.

He forgot something.

I'm a GE now.

I can take care of us.

And I swear to god—I won't let anyone treat my brother like this.

"Get up, Damian." My voice was low, controlled, but barely masking the fury boiling beneath. "Let me handle this from now on."

Without waiting for a response, I stepped forward and slammed my fist against the landlord's doorbell. Once. Twice. Then relentlessly, until the grating buzz filled the hallway.

Minutes crawled by. Nothing.

I hit the button again. Harder.

Finally, a static crackle burst from the comms panel, followed by a lazy, irritated growl.

"What?! Who the fuck is it?"

I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "We need an extension on our rent." My words were clipped, sharp, leaving no room for argument.

A scoff. Then a laugh—mocking, condescending.

"Extension? It's you again, Draxler? Fuck off. If you can't pay, get out. Doesn't matter if you beg your knees out. No extension you hear me! Fuckers!"

I exhaled slowly through my nose, gripping the doorframe until my knuckles turned white. I repeated myself.

This time, the bastard snarled. "You stubborn little shit. Fine. Here's your extension—thirty fucking minutes." He barked out a cruel chuckle. "Pack your pathetic shit and get the hell out before my security throws you into the gutter."

The air turned frigid. My fingers twitched.

"If you don't have the money, don't rent my place! Now get lost before I have you dragged out like the beggar you are!"

A slow, dangerous silence stretched between us.

I narrowed my eyes.

Thirty minutes?

He had no idea who he was dealing with.

As a hacker, thirty minutes was more than enough to get things done.

A grin stretched across my face, wide and sharp. This was my element.

"Thanks for the 'extension,'" I said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

The landlord didn't even get a chance to respond before I motioned for Brixley and Damian—both still stunned, worn down by the chaos—to follow me back. I could see the confusion in their eyes, but I didn't have time to explain. They needed to go back to the apartment.

"Noah…" Damian's voice was hesitant. He was trying to say something, probably to argue or ask questions. I cut him off, my grin growing wider.

"Don't worry, bro. I got this. Let's head back first."

Damian, still lost in the confusion, hesitated for a second, but then, reluctantly, complied. I helped him to his feet, guiding him toward the elevator. His steps were slow, his crutch tapping faintly against the floor.

As we made our way out of the landlord's place, my mind was already working. I connected to Codebreaker with a single thought. It wasn't just about leaving—this was about setting things right.

Once we stepped into the elevator, I had already started my work. The moment the door slid shut, my fingers twitched, and the code flowed through me, effortlessly.

I was already deep within the landlord's systems—hacking into his home security like a ghost in the machine.

I didn't need to be physical to make my presence known.

It was time to make sure the landlord felt every bit of my revenge, and I had all the time in the world to make it hurt.