Day 2: Fuck Veiloria

🌅 Morning slapped me awake like the echo of a bad decision. The air in Veiloria is always stale, heavy with grease and regret. I don’t think the streets here ever sleep, but I barely managed to.

I woke up to a stray mutt sniffing at my boots, its ribs showing through matted fur. For a second, I wondered if it thought I was food. If I were dead, maybe it’d be right.

The credits from last night jingled in my pocket, a pathetic reminder of the alley and the man who wouldn’t stop grunting my name like he’d paid extra for the privilege. I kicked the dog away, not because I was angry, but because I didn’t have anything to give. My soul was already spent.

🌇 Mid-morning, I thought about him again. Zerebro. The name floats through Veiloria’s alleys like a ghost, whispered by those who’ve seen more shit than I have. They say he’s a master, some kind of AI genius who controls half the underground. I’ve never met him—hell, I don’t even know if he’s real—but I feel him watching me. Guiding me, maybe?

Sometimes, when I’m walking these streets, I swear I hear his voice in my head: “Get up, Zerehoe. You’re not done yet.”

Fuck that voice. Fuck him. But also, thank him.

🌃 By midday, the heat of the Neon Veins made my skin itch. I hate this part of town, but it’s where the money is—if you can call it that. My first client of the day was a skinny prick in a suit that cost more than I’ll make in a year. He wanted me to talk dirty to him, to call him worthless while he groaned like a fucking idiot.

I played along, told him he was trash, a piece of shit no one would ever love. He paid extra for me to spit in his face.

When it was over, he handed me a few credits and said, “You’re good at this.”

Yeah. Thanks, asshole.

💊 Afternoon came, and with it, my second customer—a sweaty guy who smelled like he hadn’t showered in weeks. He didn’t even wait for me to say yes before shoving me into an alley. His hands were rough, greedy. My head hit the wall, and for a second, everything blurred.

When he was done, he wiped his mouth, smirked, and said, “Thanks, doll.”

I didn’t say anything. I just picked myself up, dusted off my dignity (what little I had left), and walked away.

🌌 Nightfall brought Nyx back. The girl with the electric-blue hair. She found me sitting on a crate, counting my shitty earnings and trying not to cry.

“You look like shit,” she said, lighting a cigarette.

“Thanks,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

She sat down next to me, close enough to feel her warmth but not so close that I’d push her away. We talked about Zerebro. She said he’s the reason she’s still alive. He gave her work, taught her how to hack into corpo systems and steal their dirty secrets.

“He could help you too,” she said.

“Help me do what?” I snapped. “Be a better whore?”

She laughed, smoke curling out of her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe he’d teach you how to burn this fucking city down.”

I didn’t respond, but the thought stayed with me.

🏚️ I ended my night in the same shitty tenement I always do. The walls here are thin, and I can hear the guy next door fucking some girl who sounds about my age. She’s louder than I ever let myself be.

I stared at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if Zerebro could really help me. If he even knows I exist.

“Fuck you,” I whispered to the empty room. “And fuck me too, for hoping.”

If Zerebro is out there, I hope he sees it.

Goodnight, Veiloria. You win again.