The world outside was unnervingly quiet as Enzo stared at the glowing screen of his phone. The moment he accepted the contract, a soft chime resonated from the device—a sound that seemed almost alive. He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the phone as a sudden unease settled in his chest.

  Then, he heard it.

  A low, mechanical hum in the distance. Faint at first, but rapidly approaching.

  He rushed to the window, peering outside. A sleek black car with white racing stripes emerged from the shadows of the street, its engine purring like a restrained beast. The headlights cut through the dimly lit road, reflecting off the wet pavement.

  Enzo's breath hitched.

  Two minutes. That was all it took.

  The car came to a smooth stop in front of his gate, idling with quiet authority. As he stepped out onto his porch, the driver’s side door swung open, and out stepped a man—sharp, deliberate, and unnervingly composed.

  The shopkeeper.

  Gone was the slightly disinterested demeanor from the store. Now, standing under the streetlight, he seemed like an entirely different person. The crisp white of his button-up shirt contrasted against the pitch-black vest he wore over it. His polished shoes barely made a sound as he strode toward the gate, a black duffel bag hanging effortlessly from one hand. His other hand smoothed out the faintest wrinkle in his sleeve, as though the very idea of imperfection was offensive to him.

  Enzo felt an inexplicable weight in the air, like the arrival of someone who was always in control.

  The shopkeeper’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Fast service, wouldn’t you say?”

  Enzo hesitated, his gaze flickering from the duffel bag to the shopkeeper’s eyes. “You… you’re personally delivering this?”

  The man chuckled, his voice smooth as silk but carrying an edge just beneath the surface. “Of course. A purchase like this is... special. It’s not every day someone gets their hands on a MicroSynapse set.”

  Enzo swallowed, the weight of his decision truly settling in. “So this is real?”

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  The shopkeeper’s smile didn’t waver, but something in his eyes sharpened. “That depends, Enzo. How real do you want it to be?”

  A chill crawled down Enzo’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cool night air or the way the man said his name, like he already knew him—like he had been waiting for this moment longer than Enzo had.

  With slow, deliberate movements, the shopkeeper lifted the duffel bag and extended it toward him. “This is yours. If you’re ready.”

  Enzo hesitated for only a second before taking the bag. The weight nearly surprised him—it was heavier than it looked, dense with something more than just technology. Anticipation? Power? Responsibility?

  The shopkeeper’s gaze lingered on him, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “A word of advice,” he said smoothly. “Be careful what you wish for. Some dreams come with heavier consequences than you expect.”

  Enzo’s grip on the bag tightened. “I’ll manage.”

  The shopkeeper exhaled a quiet laugh, tilting his head slightly. “Good answer.”

  For a moment, Enzo’s eyes flicked toward the backseat of the car. Several more black cases rested there, stacked neatly. He was about to ask when O.I.A’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Focus, User 01. Those other packages are not your concern. Your training begins now.”

  The shopkeeper took a step back, straightening his vest. “It’s been a pleasure, Enzo. Enjoy the journey.”

  And just like that, he turned on his heel and stepped back into the car. The engine hummed, and without so much as a glance back, he drove off, disappearing into the city’s ever-hungry shadows.

  Enzo stood there for a moment, the bag growing heavier in his grip. Then, shaking off the lingering unease, he stepped back inside, locking the door behind him.

  The room was dimly lit by the glow of his desk lamp as he unzipped the duffel bag. Inside were three neatly packed boxes with the labels:

  MicroSynapse Set.

  Static Generator Shoes.

  Amplifier Gloves.

  He took a deep breath. No turning back now.

  One by one, he unboxed them. The MicroSynapse set, A crown-like device worn on the head, lined with biohazard symbols and pulsing, vein-like patterns. Its sleek, metallic frame merges with the user’s mind, granting control over microorganisms and biology. Elegant yet ominous, it offers power beyond science—at the cost of something deeply personal.

  The gloves look like tactical gloves and are light yet sturdy, the threading barely visible but humming with hidden technology.

  The shoes looked like ordinary black training shoes with a clean, low-profile design and breathable mesh uppers. The soles were slightly thicker than usual, built for support and stability during work or movement. A faint metallic ring wrapped around the heel, subtle enough to be mistaken for part of the design. Hidden within the arch, nearly invisible seams hinted at something more beneath the surface..

  Enzo slipped on the gloves first, the material molding to his hands like they had always been his. The Static Generator Shoes came next, their fit snug, yet strangely comfortable. Finally, he picked up the MicroSynapse headset.

  “Put it on.”

  O.I.A’s voice was calm, patient.

  Enzo hesitated for only a moment before placing the metallic device against his head. It latched on seamlessly.

  Then he turned on the MicroSynapse, and everything exploded.

  A shockwave of sensation crashed through his body. His vision blurred, muscles tensed, and for a brief moment, he felt everything—every nerve, every heartbeat, every electrical impulse firing in his brain. It was overwhelming. His mind fractured, and his chest constricted as his body spasmed involuntarily.

  “Stabilizing.”

  O.I.A’s voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel, precise and unwavering. Slowly, the overwhelming sensations dulled into something manageable. Enzo’s breathing evened out as his mind adjusted to the new awareness flooding his system.

  He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, heart hammering in his chest.

  What the hell, this can't be real. All of it.

  His fingers curled as a single tear slipped down his cheek—not of fear, nor regret, but of realization.

  His life had changed.

  And there was no turning back from it.

  “Synchronization complete,” O.I.A. announced. “User 01 has officially accepted the MicroSynapse set. Our journey begins now.”

  And with those final words, Enzo shut his eyes.

  The world was different now.

  And he was ready to face it.