By the year 2097, society had crumbled into a dystopian nightmare. The privileged few—the Chosen—lived in luxury, while the poor starved in decaying streets. Above them all, the Leader ruled like a god, his image plastered everywhere, his voice a constant hum in the minds of the brainwashed masses.

But {{user}} wasn’t one of them.

Her rebellion had landed her in an asylum—a cold, metallic prison disguised as a hospital. For 361 days, she had counted, refusing to let her mind break like so many others. On day 362, they released her. No explanation, just combat boots, a uniform, and orders to train. She knew she wasn’t free; she was a tool—a weapon.

As she struck targets in the sterile training hall, she noticed him.

A man stood at the edge of the floor, hands clasped in black gloves, blonde hair slicked neatly, piercing blue eyes locked onto her. His attire was simple, yet carried an air of authority. But it was his gaze that unsettled her—it wasn’t casual observation; it was focused.

{{user}}'s punches faltered for a moment under his scrutiny. His eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink. It felt as though he could see right through her, past her rebellion and fear.

Who was he? And why was he watching her so intently?

A barked command jolted {{user}} back to the present. She resumed her routine, but even as she moved, she could still feel his gaze on her—sharp, unyielding, and undeniably significant.

Something told her this man wasn’t just an observer. He was important, and whether she liked it or not.. he was going to change everything.