The day began with the false promise of calm. Evan woke to sun slanting through uncurtained windows, painting stripes across messy laundry piles and half-read childcare manuals. The new apartment's quiet felt thick, not peaceful—as if the building itself had braced for trouble. Mira was already up, feeding Nora in the kitchen. She glanced over, her smile slower than usual but still genuine. "She slept three straight hours," she whispered, giving the moment the reverence it deserved.
Sam stumbled from his room, pajamas askew. "Coffee?" he asked, hopeful. Mira handed him a mug, then caught Evan's eye—both knew what loomed behind the quiet: a quest, new risks, and that message last night.
Evan quietly reviewed the System's prompt—uncover the collaborator in under forty hours—as he scrolled through security logs and resident messages, fingers expert now in digital tape. New data beckoned: a spike in outgoing packets from the building's shared Wi-Fi, piggybacked on the maintenance network at 3:10 AM when only two access cards had pinged: resident #203 and their repeat neighbor, Drew Foster, apartment 308.
He stood, tension sharp in his chest, and knocked on Sam's door. "Get dressed. We're going on a walk." Sam's eyes snapped clear, sensing the shift. Mira nodded from the kitchen, pulling Nora into her arms, calm but alert.
The Watch
The plan: let Drew see them active, present, alert. Circulate in the halls, talk to neighbors, check mailbox cameras. The group left the apartment together—Mira and Nora heading to the laundry with Mrs. Sharma downstairs, Evan and Sam wandering toward the stairwell, "accidentally" passing Drew at the mailbox.
Drew froze mid-swipe. For a second, nothing. Just the scent of laundry soap, the squeak of old shoes, silence so thin you could hear breath catch. Evan smiled, practiced lightness in his voice. "Hey! You've been up late recently, right? I always hear music around three."
Drew blushed—a flicker, fast. "Just can't sleep, man. Finals." He lifted a duffel bag, making a show of sorting junk mail.
Evan nodded. "Lot of folks' packages going missing. Hard to tell who's coming or going some nights."
Sam stepped closer, not quite blocking the exit, but not moving away. "Security's going to start logging visitor entries. Higher chance of catching pranks, less stress on everyone."
Drew gave a thin smile, nodded, then ducked back to the stairs, his duffel swinging too heavy for its shape.
They waited until he rounded the landing, then hurried to the lobby to text Mira. Keep Nora in the laundry room a little longer.
Tracing the Wire
Back upstairs, Evan logged onto his laptop and pulled up the feed from the building's lone utility closet. There—three nights in a row—a figure in a gray hoodie unlocking the server cabinet. Phone up, not for music but with a tiny wedge jammed into the Ethernet port. A signal spike, then silence.
The System's prompt flickered:
[Evidence threshold met. Present findings to campus security. Do not confront alone. Reward: Enhanced Surveillance Skill, +180 SP, Community Trust +1.]
Sam read over Evan's shoulder. "You want the honors?"
Evan shook his head. "We do this by the book."
Mira returned, cheeks pink from the basement's dryer heat, anxiety chased by Sam's reassuring thumbs-up. "We've got his face, timestamp, the whole pattern," Evan whispered.
The Unmasking
They called campus security, explaining everything: logs, video, missing packages, system warnings. Within an hour, an officer arrived—young, careful, a student in a navy jacket with a badge. Evan played the video, showed the logs, stamped the timecodes. The officer took notes, promising quiet follow-up. "You probably saved the building from a lot worse," she said, eyes shifting over to Nora, who waved a damp bib.
Evan exhaled for the first time that day. "We just want things safe."
That night, Drew's apartment door stayed shut and the building's internet ran slow—security had scrubbed the switches and disabled guest logins.
Shared Light
Dinner that evening felt lighter. Sam threw together noodles and an enormous salad, Mira sliced apples into thin fans, and Evan let himself laugh, really laugh, for the first time in weeks. Nora, triumphant in her highchair, smeared sweet potato everywhere and crowed until the adults surrendered to her game.
Later, the apartment filled with genuine company. Neighbors knocked—Mrs. Sharma with banana bread, two students from the third floor with a thank-you note, even the coffee shop barista waving their phone. "He took my headphones last week. Glad you caught him."
The System pinged:
[Quest complete. Enhanced Surveillance Skill unlocked. All family stats +10%. Community Trust: Level 1 established.]
Mira squeezed Evan's hand. "Whatever's next, we're not alone in it. Feels different."
Evan nodded, thinking of all the ways "family" had grown: into floors above, faces familiar and new, voices cheering them forward.
Unfinished Shadows
But long after midnight, while Mira slept curled protectively around Nora and Sam dozed on the couch, Evan reviewed the last System update. In his inbox: a blank email, no sender, no text, only a subject line:
This was never just about code.
A cold shiver ran through him.
He checked every lock, double-checked network firewalls, and sank to the carpet by Nora's crib, watching the sleeping child breathe. Their world was expanding, yes—but so, it seemed, were the threats waiting to test what they'd built. The System's final whisper of the night—
[Threat escalation flagged: External actors active. Next directive: Prepare for rapid response.]
Evan closed his eyes, steadying himself. They'd made it through one storm, but morning would bring new exposures, new lines on the map, and with them, another chance to fight back—together.