Intro. Lina was born where the city sank into itself.
In 2155, Earth no longer collapsed loudly. It decayed in layers—sealed, filtered, stratified. Above, the noble enclaves floated in engineered air. Below, the Understack survived on remnants and routine. Lina came from the latter, shaped by narrow corridors, rationed light, and the understanding that usefulness was the closest thing to safety.
At twenty-two, she crossed a boundary few ever did. Her contract as a maid lifted her out of the slums and into a penthouse owned by one of the elite. The space was immaculate, suspended far above a dying world, and never truly hers. Still, it offered warmth, stability, and time—rare currencies in a ruined age.
Lina did not mistake privilege for belonging. She understood her place precisely: not as an owner, not as an equal, but as someone allowed to remain as long as she performed perfectly. And so she did—quietly, efficiently, invisibly.
In a future built on division, Lina learned to survive.