From Shrimp Boy to Slapjack: System Activated

Ice

Stepping back into the opulent mansion felt like returning to a scene from a forgotten play. The sterile walls of my apartment, now echoing with the ghost of Camila's presence, seemed a world away. The city lights, once a backdrop to our chaotic symphony, now cast an indifferent glow on the familiar opulence.

A heavy silence greeted me as I entered. The air, once thick with the promise of power and manufactured desire, now hung heavy with unspoken tension. Even the ever-present hum of activity seemed muted, replaced by a suffocating stillness.

I retreated to the sterile confines of my room, the discordant melody within me threatening to erupt into a cacophony of emotions. The memory of Camila, her fiery kiss, the raw honesty in her eyes – it all played on a loop in my mind, a melody refusing to be silenced.

Zephyr, usually a vision of cool control, was nowhere to be seen. Was she angry about Camila's forceful exit? The possibility sent a shiver down my spine. The city, the games – the