My mind went blank, a hollow echo where a future should have been. For the fourth time, a woman had betrayed me, but this time was different. This wasn't a broken promise or a shattered heart. This was a death sentence.
"I'm sorry, Kenji," Miyuki had whispered, her eyes refusing to meet mine. "He's the captain. He can protect me better."
The captain, a man whose smile held the cold gleam of a predator, had simply nodded. He didn't even look at me as he shoved me. The force was enough to send me tumbling backward into the horde of undead. Their groans, a symphony of hunger, were the last thing I heard before the pain began.
A bite to the leg, another to the arm. My screams were lost in the cacophony. I fought, I clawed, but it was useless. They were too many. Their teeth tore at my flesh, their hunger an insatiable force. I could feel my life ebbing away, a slow, agonizing surrender.
My vision blurred, red and black spots dancing before my eyes. The last thing I saw was Miyuki and the captain, their backs to me as they walked away, leaving me to my fate.
When the last of the pain faded, a strange peace descended. I was no longer screaming, no longer fighting. They had moved on, their hunger momentarily sated. I lay there, a mangled ruin of a man.
A leg was gone, a bloody stump in its place. Bite marks covered every inch of my body, and my clothes were shredded, soaked in my own blood. I was alone, a corpse-in-waiting in a world that had no use for me.
And then, a voice echoed in my mind, a cold, crystalline sound that cut through the silence of my despair.
{Kenji Sato. Acknowledged. I am the Apocalypse Hotel System. I have chosen you.}
A gasp of pure terror escaped my lips, a sound I hadn't realized I still had in me. Was I going crazy? The voice in my head was so clear, so real. It didn't sound like me. I tried to move, to speak, but my body wouldn't obey. I was nothing more than a broken toy. Yet, the voice persisted.
{Your body is failing. Your life force is fading. You are on the verge of death.}
The voice was not a question. It was a statement of fact. Then, a strange sensation, like a thousand tiny needles, began to prick at my wounds. I watched, my eyes wide with disbelief, as the torn flesh on my body began to knit itself back together. The bloody stump where my leg had been started to reform, bone and muscle weaving themselves back into existence. It was a macabre spectacle, a reverse-horror show.
{I have repaired your body. I have bound myself to you. We are one.}
The voice was in my head, but it felt like it was in my very soul. As the final piece of my leg snapped into place, a surge of energy coursed through me, a feeling of strength and vitality I had never known.
"What are you?" I stammered, the words barely a whisper. "What's happening to me?"
{I am the Apocalypse Hotel System. My purpose is to restore order and rebuild civilization. My first task for you is to establish our base of operations. The location is nearby. Go to the old Grandview Hotel.}
I pushed myself up, testing my new body. It felt… perfect. The pain was gone, replaced by a quiet hum of power. "The Grandview Hotel?" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "That's just an old ruin now."
{Technically, yes. But not for long. Now go. Our work begins.}
I started walking, each step firm and confident. The ruin of the old Grandview Hotel came into view, a dilapidated building of cracked concrete and broken windows. It was a sad, forgotten place.
"Is this it?" I asked the System.
{Affirmative. Now, watch.}
As the last word echoed in my mind, the building began to shudder. Cracked walls crumbled, and broken glass shattered and floated in the air. The debris didn't fall; it hovered, glowing with a soft, ethereal light. The concrete turned to a pristine white marble, the rusty rebar into polished steel.
The shattered windows reformed, their jagged edges smoothing into flawless panes of glass. It was a chaotic ballet of destruction and creation.
The building started to grow, floors adding themselves one by one, a magnificent new structure rising from the ashes of the old. The old sign, a rusted husk of its former self, transformed into a brilliant neon sign that glowed with a fiery orange light. The letters spelled out a single name, a promise of rebirth: The Phoenix Hotel.
I stepped through the enormous glass door, a wave of cool, conditioned air washing over me. The chaos of the city was instantly gone, replaced by an eerie silence. The lobby was magnificent, a stark contrast to the ruin it had been just moments before. Polished marble floors reflected the warm glow of elegant chandeliers, and plush velvet couches lined the walls. It smelled of new leather and fresh flowers—a scent I hadn't experienced in three years.
My eyes swept across the vast space, taking in every detail. It was immaculate. I turned to look back at the entrance, expecting to see the same grand glass door. Instead, I saw a multitude of doors, fifty in total, lined up on either side of a single central one labeled "Main Exit." Each door had a different name above it, the names of other countries in this new, broken world: Aethelgard, Xylos, Kryllia, Zephyr, Umbra...
"What… what is this place?" I whispered, my confusion mixing with a creeping sense of awe.
{This is the Phoenix Hotel, Kenji Sato. My primary base of operations.} The System's voice was calm, a stark anchor in the whirlwind of my thoughts. {The central door is our physical location. The others are teleportation doors, an illusion that allows guests to enter from various locations across the globe.}
I stared at the doors, my mind reeling. "So, someone in Aethelgard could walk through a door and end up here?"
{Affirmative. Upon registration, they would be able to return to their specific city or province by using the exit panel on the door.}
I walked to the front desk, my footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The desk was empty, waiting for me. On its surface, a small, flat machine with a black leather pad on top caught my eye. The System's voice returned.
{This is the registration terminal. Guests must register within 30 minutes of entry or they will be gently but firmly ejected. When a guest registers, a unique, invisible brand will appear on their palm for five seconds. After that, they can press that spot to access a personal screen that allows them to view their balance, receive announcements, and even communicate with other brand holders. The sole currency here is Crystal Cores.}
I reached out a trembling hand and placed it on the pad. The device hummed, and for a fleeting moment, a faint, golden symbol shimmered on my palm before fading away. "What about food?" I asked, my stomach rumbling at the thought of a proper meal.
{The hotel is entirely self-sufficient. There is an unlimited supply of food, water, and power. You will find robotic staff throughout the hotel to handle everything else—cleaning, security, and room service. To the right of the desk, a vending machine provides a variety of instant and self heating foods, such as rice, noodles, and other instant meals. Beyond that, a similar machine provides daily necessities—shampoo, toothpaste, soap, and so on.}
I looked over and saw a glimmering machine with a digital screen. It was a far cry from a full kitchen, but the thought of a hot meal that didn't have to be scavenged was a luxury I hadn't imagined in years.
{Additionally, your room is a fully equipped living space with a kitchen, a stocked refrigerator, and all the amenities you require. Guest rooms, however, are more basic. They will have a small electric teapot for boiling water in the corner. You both share a feature, however. For laundry, each room is equipped with a small laundry port on the wall. Simply place your clothes inside. It will flash red while they are being washed and green when they are clean, fresh, and folded in your closet.}
The details were overwhelming, but the one thing that truly hit home was the final bit of information the System relayed.
{You are the ultimate authority here, Kenji Sato. I am bound to you, and we share a life-or-death pact. With this bond, you have absolute power within the confines of this hotel. You can set the rules and enforce them. You have the power of rule of law. You can eject any guest you deem unworthy or, in extreme cases, even terminate them directly. For now, the core rules are simple: pay to stay, be respectful to the staff, and no fighting. Beyond that, I will listen to your commands. You are the owner, and I am your partner.}
I stood at the front desk, my hand still tingling from the brand, my mind reeling. The System's voice returned, a calm presence in the storm of my thoughts.
{To manage the hotel, you have a user interface. To access it, simply tap the branded spot on your palm. Within the hotel, you are the ultimate authority. All goods and services are free to you. You do not need to use Crystal Cores for anything.}
I did as it instructed. A transparent screen shimmered into existence before me, invisible to anyone else. On it, I saw a map of the hotel, a detailed floor plan with a list of available rooms. I could see their layouts and even a button to "show guest" the options. It was all a little overwhelming, but the power behind it was undeniable. The System was a partner, yes, but it was also a tool of incredible control.
"Okay," I muttered, my voice still a little shaky. "Let's explore."
I moved away from the desk and walked toward a corridor lined with mahogany doors. I passed several robotic staff members, each an immaculately dressed figure that moved with a purpose.
One was wiping down a wall that was already spotless, while another, dressed in a janitor's uniform, glided past me, carrying a tray of cleaning supplies. Their expressions were calm, their movements precise, their eyes holding that same empty, uncanny stillness. I wanted to talk to one, to see if they could actually hold a conversation, but something stopped me. They were perfect, and that perfection was unnerving.
I came across a sleek, modern machine with a small plaque above it that read "Medica." Curious, I examined it and saw a list of medicines on its screen. Fever reducers, cough medicine, pain relievers, and even antibiotics. It was a pharmacy, restocked and available. I hadn't seen something like this in three years. Sickness in the apocalypse was a death sentence, but here, it was just an regular convenience.
Leaving the medical machine, I continued my exploration. I counted fifteen guest rooms already open, each door labeled with a code like "A-01." I opened a door to an unoccupied room and looked inside, finding a basic but clean room with a simple bed, a dresser, and a small electric teapot in the corner. It was nothing special, but it was safe, and in this world, that was everything.
Finally, I made my way to my own room. The door opened with a silent whoosh, and I stepped into a space that was a sanctuary.
The air was fresh, the light was warm, and the silence was absolute. I walked into the main living area, where a plush sofa and a sleek coffee table sat before a window that looked out onto the city—a chaotic, broken world that felt a million miles away.
The kitchen was a sight to behold. A full refrigerator, a gleaming stove, and a polished sink. I opened the fridge to find it fully stocked with fresh vegetables, fruits, meats, and all the food I had only dreamed of. I ran my hand over the smooth countertop, the feeling of such abundance almost too much to bear.
In the bedroom, a large closet stood open, revealing a full wardrobe of clean, neatly folded clothes—shirts, pants, and jackets in various styles and sizes.
I moved to the bathroom next, the taps running with clean, clear water. I saw a toilet with a clean seat, a bathtub that looked deep and inviting, and a shower with hot water. I could take a shower.
I could wash away three years of dirt, blood, and fear. I stripped off my torn, blood-stained clothes and stepped under the hot spray, scrubbing away the grime and the memories of the day before. The hot water soothed my aching muscles and calmed my frayed nerves.
After the shower, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and walked back into the bedroom, the sight of a massive, fluffy bed almost bringing me to tears. I walked over, my fingers tracing the smooth fabric of the comforter. It was a bed. A real bed. Not a pile of rags in a deserted building, not a makeshift cot in a tent.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath my weight with a soft sigh. It was comfortable, so comfortable. I fell back, my body sinking into the softness, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt something other than fear, hunger, or despair. I felt safe. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to simply be, a man who was supposed to be dead, lying in a bed that was a fantasy.