"Represents the struggle," Lyric said, her eyes locking onto his glowing gold visor. "You’re tired of the persona, aren't you, Architect?"
The holographic gold shattered like glass. Elias gasped, the cold, unfiltered air hitting his raw skin. He looked around. No one saw a high-tier citizen. They saw a man—flawed, scarred, and sweating. Future - Mask Off (Clean Version)
Clutching the grain, chasing the dream, she whispered into a distorted mic. "Represents the struggle," Lyric said, her eyes locking
In the shadows of the Under-Sector, the "Clean Version" of his life was over. The real story had just begun. He looked around
Elias felt a glitch in his system. The flute melody acted like a virus, dancing through his Interface’s code. For the first time in a decade, he felt the weight of the metal on his face. It wasn't an enhancement; it was a cage.
In Oakhaven, status wasn't measured by money, but by your . Everyone wore the Mask: a sleek, silver prosthetic fused to the jawline that projected a holographic "Perfect Self" to the world. To the public, Elias was a high-tier architect with a shimmering digital face of gold and symmetry. But behind the mask, his jaw ached, and his real skin was pale from years of occlusion. The Hive’s motto was everywhere: Perception is Reality.