Rain howled against the roof of the cab as Darren sat motionless, watching the entrance to the Grand Pavilion Hotel. It wasn't the kind of place he ever imagined walking into. Marble columns. Doormen in coats that cost more than his rent. Even the damn potted plants looked like they had offshore bank accounts.
He exhaled slowly.
"Okay. Just a grieving old man in a robe. Not a demon. Not a trap. Probably."
The system didn't reply. It rarely did unless something was actively being weighed.
He stepped out of the cab, flashed a fake smile at the doorman, and walked through the polished glass doors.
Inside, everything was red velvet and quiet piano music. The lobby smelled like money laundering and imported wood polish.
He didn't belong here.
He knew that.
And he loved that.
***
17TH FLOOR, HALLWAY TO ROOM 1702
The elevator dinged, far too cheerful for a building this expensive. He stepped out into soft lighting and quiet luxury.
Room 1702 was down the hall. Third door on the left.
As he approached, the system lit faintly.
[Harvest Conditions Detected: Emotional Residue – Latent Guilt / Recurring Regret]
[Estimated Yield Potential: $22,000 – Variable]
[Warning: Emotional Tension Still Building – Premature Harvest May Reduce Value]
He slowed.
"Whoa."
Inside the room, he could hear faint movement. A drawer closing. Then a heavy sigh.
"Emotion must bloom," Liz had said.
He waited.
Leaned against the wall and listened.
A television clicked on. A low murmur of voices. Then the clink of a bottle against glass.
Then another sigh — deeper this time, as if dragged from the man's ribs.
Darren's system pinged again.
[Residual Guilt: Active Phase Detected]
[Ready for Extraction: 82%]
He stood there, heart drumming a little too loud in his ears.
"Fuck it," he muttered, pressing two fingers to his temple. "Let's test this thing."
He focused.
Breathed in.
The system responded.
[Harvest Protocol Engaged – Passive Proximity Mode]
[Draining Emotional Value…]
It didn't feel like the first time. No jolt. No rush of adrenaline.
This time… it was slow.
Like drawing heat from a dying fire.
He saw flashes, images—Definitely not his own.
A hand signing documents.
A boy crying alone besides a casket in a church.
A glass of bourbon trembling in a shaking hand.
And through it all, the silence of complicity.
Darren's breath a Slowed.
His fingers tingled.
Then the system exhaled.
[Harvest Complete: + $11,731.06]
[Emotional Residue Remaining: Locked – Source Stabilizing]
[User Balance: $13,145.78]
He staggered a little.
Not from pain. From… weight.
That man behind the door had carried all that for years.
Darren had pulled it out like it was nothing.
"Jesus," he whispered. "What the hell am I doing?"
His heart was racing..
He ran out...
***
Rain came down heavier now, soaking through his hoodie as he stood outside the hotel.
His phone buzzed. Not the system. His actual phone.
Unknown Number:
Not bad. Not clean, but not bad.
Get some rest. You'll need it.
Next time, we go bigger.
He stared at the screen.
Then at the sky.
The rain didn't cleanse anything. It just made it quieter.
His system pinged again.
[Goldscript Log Updated]
[Emotional Response: Mixed – Unresolved Morality]
[Tracking Behavioral Drift…]
[Instinct Threshold: Rising]