Minh Truong did not move.
He stood in the narrow side lane beside the vending machine, staring at the settlement notice as if the right amount of focus could change what it meant.
It didn't.
The interface remained bright and calm, almost polite—like a bank notification reminding you of a debt you forgot existed.
Deferred Cost Ready for Settlement
Category: Breach Interference
Settlement Type: Pending
The man across from him—tired eyes, controlled posture—kept his distance.
He wasn't afraid of Minh Truong.
He was afraid of being in the wrong place when the system decided to make an example.
Minh Truong forced his breathing to slow, the way he had learned back in Vol 1 when panic cost more than it solved.
"Pending," Minh Truong said quietly. "Meaning you haven't chosen the payment method yet."
The man nodded once. "It chooses based on what it can extract efficiently."
Minh Truong's gaze sharpened. "So you know it can extract more than time."
The man's lips tightened. "Time is just the simplest unit."
Before Minh Truong could respond, the interface flickered—just once—then expanded.
A new panel unfolded with unnatural smoothness, as if the system had been waiting for this moment.
[Settlement Available]
Choose one method to minimize disruption.
Failure to choose → automatic collection.
Minh Truong felt a cold heaviness settle behind his sternum.
The system was offering him agency.
Not out of kindness.
Because even the system had learned: forced collection created noise, and noise was expensive during a breach.
Three options appeared.
Option A: Lifespan Deduction
Estimated Cost: 14 months
Risk: Medium
Secondary Effects: None
Option B: Memory Fragment Withdrawal
Estimated Cost: "Significant"
Risk: Low
Secondary Effects: Perception Drift
Option C: Identity Dimming
Estimated Cost: 7 days (active) + indefinite shadowing
Risk: High
Secondary Effects: Social Erasure Events
Minh Truong's eyes stayed on Option C longer than he meant to.
Identity dimming.
He had heard the woman mention disappearances—socially, digitally, accidentally. He had assumed it was a rumor. A method.
Here it was, presented like a checkbox.
"You've seen this before," Minh Truong said to the man.
The man didn't deny it. "I've seen all three."
Minh Truong's throat went dry. "Which one is survivable?"
"Depends on what you consider surviving," the man replied.
Minh Truong's jaw tightened. He hated that answer because it was true.
He glanced at the crowd noise beyond the lane. A few pedestrians passed the entrance, never looking in. The city continued its rhythm, indifferent to the invisible ledger being balanced in the shadows.
Minh Truong's interface pulsed faintly.
A timer appeared in the corner.
Collection in: 02:30
The man shifted his weight. "If you let it auto-collect, it picks whatever creates the least resistance."
"That sounds like it would choose the least painful option," Minh Truong said.
The man's expression hardened. "No. It chooses the option that makes you easiest to manage afterward."
Minh Truong stared at Option B.
Memory withdrawal.
Low risk.
But perception drift—meaning the world would feel wrong afterward, and he wouldn't know whether it was his mind or reality that had shifted.
In Vol 1, he had learned that knowledge was leverage.
If the system took his memories, it wouldn't just take comfort. It would take strategy.
Option A was straightforward. Time.
It always came back to time.
Fourteen months wasn't small, but it was measurable. No secondary effects. No ripple.
Clean.
Which made Minh Truong suspicious.
Option C was… dangerous.
Seven days active plus indefinite shadowing. The system wouldn't kill him quickly. It would erase his impact. Make him irrelevant. A living ghost in his own city.
And as the man had said, management mattered more than pain.
Minh Truong looked up. "You said the system panics when it has to settle during a breach."
The man nodded. "Settlement creates closure. Closure restores control."
"So you don't want it settled cleanly," Minh Truong said slowly.
A faint smile appeared, humorless. "I don't want it settled cheaply."
Minh Truong understood. The man wasn't an ally. He was a strategist guarding his own plan. He wanted the system to bleed efficiency. To pay attention. To waste resources.
Minh Truong's timer hit 02:05.
"Then what do you want me to do?" Minh Truong asked.
The man hesitated, then spoke carefully. "There is a fourth option."
Minh Truong's eyes narrowed. "The system only offered three."
"The system offers three," the man corrected. "But the breach offers trades."
Minh Truong felt his pulse spike. "You mean I can move the cost."
The man nodded. "Not erase it. Not cancel it. Move it. Delay it. Reframe it."
Minh Truong's interface flickered again, as if reacting to the words.
A small warning appeared near the timer.
External Influence Detected
Settlement Integrity: At Risk
Minh Truong's jaw clenched.
The system could sense negotiation.
It could not fully prevent it—otherwise it wouldn't have offered options at all—but it was tracking the attempt.
"What's the trade?" Minh Truong asked.
The man did not answer immediately. He glanced toward the lane entrance, listening for footsteps that were not there yet.
"Not here," he said. "Not while it's watching this close."
Minh Truong's timer hit 01:37.
"Then give me something," Minh Truong said. "A recommendation."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't want a recommendation. You want blame."
Minh Truong didn't deny it.
In Vol 1, the system priced micro-decisions to steer behavior. In Vol 2, it was letting consequences arrive late. Late consequences could be bent—if you knew where to push.
But bending came with a cost too.
Minh Truong looked back at the settlement options.
Option A: clean, predictable, controllable.
Option B: survivable, but could change who he was.
Option C: weaponized against his future.
And looming over all of it: auto-collection.
His timer hit 01:12.
Minh Truong made his choice—not because it was best, but because it was the least exploitable against him.
He selected Option A.
The system paused.
Not long.
Just long enough to feel like a satisfied inhale.
Selection Confirmed
Lifespan Deduction: 14 months
Collection: Immediate
Minh Truong felt it, not as pain, but as a quiet subtraction. Like a date in a distant calendar had been erased without ever being shown to him.
A faint dizziness passed. Then clarity returned.
No memory loss.
No social distortion.
Just a colder awareness that something had been taken and could never be earned back.
The interface updated.
Settlement Complete
Breach Interference: Closed
The pressure in the lane eased slightly. The air felt more normal.
Too normal.
The man exhaled slowly, disappointed. "You chose the cleanest path."
"I chose the one that keeps me intact," Minh Truong replied.
The man's eyes sharpened. "Intact doesn't mean safe."
Minh Truong met his gaze. "Neither does sabotage."
For a brief moment, the man looked like he wanted to argue.
Then he simply nodded.
"Fine," he said. "Then we do it your way. But understand something."
Minh Truong didn't speak.
The man leaned closer, voice low enough to be swallowed by the city noise beyond the lane.
"When you settle cleanly," he said, "you tell the system it can still close the book on you."
Minh Truong's eyes narrowed. "And if I don't?"
"Then it keeps the book open," the man said. "And open books attract readers."
Minh Truong felt the meaning of that statement settle in his bones.
The Correction Layer. The observers. Whatever sat above the system's interface.
If the system couldn't resolve him cheaply, it would escalate.
The man stepped back, already shifting his posture as if preparing to leave.
"We'll meet again," he said. "Soon. Because now the system knows you'll pay."
Minh Truong's jaw tightened. "It already knew that."
"No," the man corrected. "Now it knows you'll pay cleanly."
He turned to walk away.
Minh Truong watched him go, then opened the interface one last time.
The lifespans above pedestrians looked stable again, crisp and obedient.
But beneath his own status, a new line had appeared.
Compliance Pattern Logged
User Classification: Cooperative Under Pressure
Minh Truong's stomach twisted.
He hadn't just paid fourteen months.
He had paid in reputation.
In predictability.
The system didn't just charge time.
It charged future leverage.
Minh Truong closed the interface and stepped out of the lane into the flow of the city, forcing his expression to stay neutral.
Vol 2 had just taught him its first real lesson:
You could pay to survive a moment.
But the system always collected more than you thought you were buying.