It was around 11 a.m. the next day when we finally arrived. And by arrived, I mean collapsed into yet another layer of this weird criminal fever dream I'd stumbled into.
After a devastatingly long 18-hour plane ride, complete with multiple sketchy stops to refuel in places that barely qualified as airfields, we landed. Not at an airport, no—that would be too normal. We landed in some kind of abandoned shed, tucked into the middle of nowhere. And honestly, at this point? I wasn't even surprised.
The bald guy—who I later learned was called Bold_Eagle (not his real name, obviously)—was the one who shook me awake. I was slumped over like a lifeless sack of potatoes in the plane's cramped corner. He helped me out of the plane without saying much, and together we stepped into what might've been the most suspicious structure I've ever set foot in. Inside were dusty crates and four large black duffel bags, lined up like they'd been waiting just for us. I assumed each of us had one.
The leader, the dude with a buzzcut—still nameless at this point but exuding the kind of confident scowl that screamed alpha—picked up one of the bags and led the way out of the shed. Parked outside was a sleek, luxury SUV, pitch black and polished to mirror-finish perfection. It looked wildly out of place next to the rusty shed and the surrounding wilderness. Still, I was too exhausted to question anything anymore.
He took the driver's seat without a word. Man-Bun (still chewing gum and scrolling through his phone like we hadn't just spent the night in the sky) took the front passenger seat again. After shoving our duffel bags into the boot, me and Bold_Eagle settled into the back. At least this car had air conditioning. And space. Glorious, beautiful space.
We began driving out of the dense forest. The dirt road beneath us was bumpy and narrow, and there wasn't a single other car in sight. Hours passed. Literally, hours. I dozed in and out of sleep, staring at endless stretches of desert that replaced the forest. Just sand and heat and sun. I wondered who had the patience to build a road like this in the middle of an actual wasteland.
Eventually—after a solid seven hours of driving—we pulled up to what looked like a checkpoint toll gate. By now, it was 5:36 p.m., and my back was killing me.
A woman sat inside the tall booth. She looked like she'd just woken up from a ten-year nap. She stretched lazily and stuck her hand out of the window. Our glorious leader handed her four IDs. She squinted at them, probably questioning her life choices, before stamping them and giving them back. Man-Bun stored them in the glove compartment like this was a totally normal Tuesday.
"Reason for coming to Vaskor Province?" she asked, chewing gum with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on sedatives.
The leader flashed the brightest smile I'd seen from him so far. "Our sister—the one in the back seat—is getting married. In Velmira City."
Wait, what?!
The woman squinted harder, as if her eyeballs might detect a lie. "Getting married in Velmira? That's dumb," she mumbled, clearly unimpressed.
She brought out a speed point device and shoved it toward us. "Toll gate fee is 6,000 veosk."
I almost choked. Six thousand veosk? That's like 50,000 Sivil! Who in their right mind pays that for a toll gate?
Without flinching, the leader pulled out a brown envelope of cash from under his seat and passed it over. She grumbled, took the bag, and began slowly feeding the notes into her ancient cash counter. It took a full four minutes.
Finally, she handed us a receipt and pressed a button to lift the gate.
As we drove past, a sign greeted us: "Welcome to Vaskor Province."
And that's when everything changed.
The farther we drove, the more alive the road became. The desert faded into a soft oasis. Palm trees stood proud along both sides, their leaves casting shadows across the pavement in the golden sunset light. A river ran alongside us—crystal blue and glowing with the reflection of the sky—making the whole road look enchanted.
Towering skyscrapers began to loom in the distance, their lights glittering like stars. I pressed my face against the window, completely stunned. Velmorra wasn't what I imagined. It wasn't some crumbling, post-law apocalypse wasteland. It was beautiful. A blend of tropical paradise and ultra-modern metropolis.
"Isn't this place supposed to be lawless?" I blurted. "Why does it look like a vacation ad?"
Bold_Eagle, who'd been silent for a while, replied quietly, "The country's not lawless. It just doesn't follow normal law. The government doesn't make the rules here. Other people do. And this is just one of the nine provinces, the whole country looks like this"
That didn't make any sense, but I just nodded and mumbled a half-hearted "Mmm," pretending I understood.
Around 9 p.m., we pulled into a petrol station. I practically leapt out of the SUV, my bladder begging for mercy. I hadn't used a proper bathroom in almost a day.
To my absolute shock, the bathroom was... fancy. Like, chandeliers-and-fresh-flowers fancy. The air smelled like daisies. The floor sparkled. There were face washes, full-body mirrors, and even a small sauna tucked in the corner. For a gas station, this place was more luxurious than my old apartment.
After washing up, I returned to the car feeling reborn. We drove a little further into the heart of the city and finally pulled up at what looked like a high-end hotel. Though in Velmorra, it was hard to tell. Everything looked high-end. Even the traffic lights had a kind of rich glow.
There were supercars everywhere—sleek models I'd only ever seen in magazines. I couldn't stop staring.
The hotel itself wasn't the tallest in the area, but it had this massive floor-to-ceiling fish tank at the reception. I ended up pressing my face against the glass like a kid at an aquarium, watching tropical fish dart around in glowing blues and purples while the leader checked us in.
He handed us separate room keys, making sure we'd be spaced far apart. Probably so no one could trace us to each other. Fine by me. I didn't exactly feel cozy sharing space with three potentially dangerous men.
He handed me a plastic bag with a black tracksuit and ski mask inside—our uniform for tomorrow, apparently—and gave me a nod before disappearing down another hallway.
I rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, found my room, and stepped inside.
It wasn't the highest room in the building, but it was gorgeous. My window faced the hotel's pool, which sparkled under the night lights. The room smelled like lavender. There was a bath. A real bath.
I stripped off my clothes and sank into the warm water, dropping in one of the complimentary bath bombs for good measure. The water fizzed around me, turning shades of pink and gold. I soaked for almost two hours, just letting my brain melt. I'd been through a lot.
When I finally dragged myself out, I pulled on the soft hotel pajamas and collapsed onto the memory foam bed. The room was soundproof. The sheets were warm. The air smelled like vanilla and peace.
This was the calm before the storm. And if I was being honest... I really didn't want to leave this bed ever again.