_ New Look, Same Me

The cold bathroom tiles feel like they're biting at my skin as I step out, but my mind is miles away. The weight of the moment; the kill, the failure, the system's interference… everything weighs me down.

 I'm like a walking corpse, pulled by forces outside my control. But as I step into the room, something shifts. A sudden flash catches my eye, and I look toward the wardrobe. 

There's a clean mirror on the wall beside it, the only thing that seems untouched by time or decay. I don't know why I haven't noticed it before. Maybe it's just because I'm so used to avoiding the reflection of whatever's left of me. But now, after a good bath, I look. I have to. 

For a moment, I think I see a stranger. But that can't be. It's me. It's my face, my body. Or at least, that's what I want to believe.

I freeze in front of the mirror. My reflection stuns me into silence. I don't recognize myself. 

I look… better. 

The first thing that hits me is my hair. It shines in the low light, dapper and healthy in a way it's never been before. No more frizz, no more dry, brittle strands. My hair falls in waves over my shoulders, with a rich and deep color and not a single hint of the messy, matted mess it used to be. 

I can't stop staring at it, fingers reaching up to touch it, to make sure it's real.

Then there's my skin. Damn. It's flawless—no more scars, no more bruises, no more imperfections. It's like someone took a dull piece of clay and sculpted it into something… perfect.

 Smooth. Glowing. 

Like something from a magazine shoot, like I could be someone else entirely. 

I drop the towel without realizing it, my hands shaking as I look down at my body. I don't know how long I stand there, just staring, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. 

My hourglass figure is so defined it almost doesn't feel real. Curves where I never had them before. My waist is tiny, and my hips are fuller. I trace my fingers over the curve of my ribs, still half in disbelief. 

The reflection is almost seductive, but it's not mine. I feel like I'm staring at someone who isn't me, someone who has it all. 

I bet if this was the me Santiago met, he'd have fallen head over heels for me. This is like me and not me. Like I have an older sister who has everything I lacked and it is her reflection in the mirror. 

I blow out air from my mouth, steadying myself. 

"System, what's going on?" I ask, definitely knowing this is its doing. 

[Your reward has been enhanced with a bonus. Your appearance has been optimized to better suit your mission objectives.]

My mouth pops open. Optimized?

I can't believe it. I lean in closer, inspecting every detail; my face, my eyes, my lips. My expression is full of perplexity and shock, but more than anything, I feel an intense combination of awe and… disorientation.

 I don't know how to feel about this. I don't want to feel good about it, but I can't stop the part of me that appreciates the sharpness in my reflection, the way my jawline is so clean.

 It's… almost perfect. 

But that's not me. It shouldn't be. I've never asked for this. The way I look now, it's like I'm somebody else; someone who can turn heads without even trying. But what's the point of looking this way when everything else is falling apart?

I grab a shirt from the wardrobe, one that looks somewhat clean, though it's a bit too large for my frame. I tug it on without caring much. I should've found something more fitting, something that at least gave me a sense of who I used to be, but all I want is to get out of here. I don't want to think about this anymore.

I take a few more glances at myself in the mirror as I grab a pair of pants. I run my fingers through my hair one last time and turn away, unable to look at myself any longer. 

What the hell is the point of this? Of me?

I can't stand looking at the reflection of someone who doesn't belong in this world, not with the weight of everything else on me. 

I leave the room, moving toward the kitchen, the need to feed driving me now. I promised myself I'd never eat human flesh again. 

The taste of it still remains in my memory, that slick, wrong sensation that made me want to puke every time I thought about it.

 I can't do it again. Not if I can help it.

I search the cabinets, pulling open drawers and finding a few cans of food. It's not much, but it'll have to do. I can't afford to be picky. I grab one, pop the lid, and stare at the contents inside. Some kind of canned meat, I think. 

The smell hits me first. 

It's awful. There's no other way to describe it. It's like wet cardboard mixed with sour and rancid. I force myself to take a bite, even as my stomach churns in protest. 

The taste is worse than I could've imagined. It doesn't sit right on my tongue. It doesn't taste like anything familiar, just a foreign sensation that makes my insides twist. 

I spit it out almost immediately, gagging as it burns the back of my throat. 

"What the hell?" I mutter under my breath. 

I toss the can away, frustrated. 

But I promise myself—no more human flesh. If I have to train myself to eat whatever this crap is, I will. Maybe I'll get used to it. 

Maybe.

I scour the house for more food. I found some dry bread. A few cans of vegetables. It's all the same when I taste; bland, awful food, but it's human food, and that's what matters.

 I'll keep telling myself that until I believe it.

When I'm finished, I grab a bottle of water and drink it down like it's the most precious thing in the world. My body is still screaming for something else, something that doesn't come in a can or a bottle. 

But I can't go back to what I was for that brief moment when human flesh mattered more than living itself. I can't be that person again.

I need to get out of here. I need to move forward. 

The sun has already set when I step outside, the chill of the night air brushing against my skin. The streets are quiet. 

Ever since I woke up, Lucas and his group are the first humans I've seen. And maybe the last I'll see for miles. Also, maybe I need to go find them. 

I tell myself I'm doing this for Lucas. He's still so young, so full of potential. I can't let him go down the same path I did. I owe it to the world to try and make something of myself. 

I have to find Pretty Boy, Captain Authority, and Lucas. I need to save them if they already aren't dead. 

But deep down, I wonder: what the hell am I even doing? Why am I trying so hard to be something I'm not?

I keep walking, the night dangerously chill. The city is a shadow around me, the distant sounds of broken windows and howling winds filling the air. I try to focus on my mission, on Lucas, but I can't help but wonder what else I'm doing this for. 

Maybe it's for me. Maybe I need to do this for myself.

I can't stop, not now.

I need to start making good use of my abilities. I need to help people… to help the earth. 

But that will not sway me from my mission; bring Santiago and his people down.