Urban System in America

Rex let out a long, exhausted breath and let himself sink back into the mattress. For a second, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his brain running on fumes. The night had been a rollercoaster, and now all he wanted was five minutes of peace before his neurons started firing again.

But the universe, as usual, had other plans.

Ding.

His eyes twitched.

Ding-ding.

Then another.

Ding-ding.

And another.

Ding-ding-ding.

Annoyed, he blinked and looked around. "What the hell…" trying to find his phone, but found nothing.

Ding-ding-ding.

The barrage of notification chimes came one after another, slicing through the silence like an annoying ringtone you forgot to shut off on weekends. He opened one eye, squinting at the ceiling, as if blaming it for the chaos.

"Where the hell is that coming from…?"

He rolled to the side, patting the bed like a man half-awake searching for his lost remote. Nothing. He checked under the pillow, behind him, even shoved his hand down the gap between the headboard and the wall. Still nothing. But the dinging continued, louder now, more insistent, like the phone itself was panicking.

Tiered, he stopped, staring blankly at the exquisite ceiling.

Another ding.

This time he perked up his ear and listened carefully, and finally found that it was coming from somewhere below.

A frown crossed his face as he followed the sound like a bloodhound on a trail.

Eventually, he dragged himself halfway off the bed, hanging awkwardly like a sloth over the side, and finally spotted it, his phone under the bed, screen flashing wildly like it was having a rave on its own. It looked like it had nearly fallen into Narnia.

"How the hell did you end up down there?" he muttered, voice flat, one eyebrow twitching.

Still sprawled halfway off the bed, he reached down, fingers stretching toward it.

he stretched one arm toward the phone like a lazy predator reaching for prey. "Maybe the demon under the bed was getting bored and borrowed it for some late-night doomscrolling…" he grumbled dryly, his voice echoing slightly as his face hovered just inches from the floor.

After a few near-misses, his fingers finally hooked onto the edge of the phone. A small, silent victory.

Which lasted exactly one second.

Thump.

The universe, as always, had a sense of humor. His body tipped forward, his center of gravity giving up entirely, and with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, he plummeted off the bed and landed with a heavy thud, face-first into the carpet.

"—Ouch." He groaned, the thick carpet doing little to soften the blow, arm still heroically holding the phone aloft like it was some kind of trophy.

Inside the washroom, the shower stopped abruptly, followed by Monica's concerned, but slightly muffled voice. "Rex? What was that? Everything okay?"

He blinked, still lying motionless, considering his life choices that had gotten him here. No way in hell was he telling her he just launched himself off the bed while chasing after his phone like a toddler after a toy.

"I was… uh…" he shouted back. "Just checking the sturdiness of the floor!"

A beat of silence.

"…Checking the floor?" her voice came again, confused.

"Yeah. Structural integrity. Engineering stuff... Don't worry about it. Shower in peace!"

Inside the bathroom, Monica raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what kind of logic that was supposed to be, but he didn't sound injured… so she shrugged and went back to humming and washing her hair.

Meanwhile, Rex was still sprawled out, groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he finally unlocked the cursed device with the other.

Then he froze.

There were dozens of missed calls. Messages flooding in so fast they stacked on top of each other, half the screen filled with little red circles. Most were from unknown numbers, probably the people he'd exchanged contacts with last night at the party. A lot of "Great meeting you!" and "Let's work together sometime!"—the usual industry fluff, all greetings and vague promises. The M|V|LE&MPYR team worked hard on this chapter.

He absentmindedly scrolled through them with a thumb of steel, swiping left and right like he was speedrunning social burnout. It was only when the flood started slowing that a few familiar names popped up.

The first one that caught his eye made him snort.

Aren: "Don't exhaust yourself, boss *winking*"

Rex chuckled under his breath and swiped that one away too.

Next was Lena, ever the curious one:

Lena: "Where'd you disappear mid-party? Thought you'd at least stay for the closing toast."

He paused on it for a second, debating whether to reply, then let it be. He'd deal with her later.

And then came the true storm.

The one responsible for most of the notifications and nearly all the chaos in his inbox: Ellie.

Her messages read like a slow descent into madness:

Ellie:

"Where are you?"

"I've looked everywhere—did you leave?"

"Wait… are you secretly hooking up with a rich woman??"

"If yes… okay. I understand."

"did you run off with a rich sugar mommy??"

"But is she ugly? Like rich and fat ugly??"

"You're really not answering??"

"You DARE ignore me?"

"Just you wait…"

"???"

"Helloooo?"

"Rexy. Rexy!!"

"Fine. I give up."

"But that doesn't mean I'll let you go. You pinky promised we'd meet again. Don't you dare forget."

He chuckled, shaking his head. For a stranger he'd just met once, she had no hesitation acting like they were old friends. Or sworn enemies. Hard to tell.

His fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to shoot back a snarky reply just to see how much worse she could get. But he stopped.

If he responded now, she'd definitely blow up his phone all over again. And honestly? He was curious, but not that curious. Not when something else was tugging at his senses more urgently.

The soft scent of shampoo drifted through the room—sweet, floral, mixed with something warm and musky. Not overwhelming, but intoxicating, and dangerously alluring. Like it was made to mess with his head.

And paired with the faint hum of water hitting tiles, it was more than enough to rattle his focus.

He looked up.

The bathroom door was just a few steps away, slightly fogged from the steam. He gulped and instinctively stood up and moved towards the door, and the closer he got, the thicker the scent became.

It clung to the air like silk—gentle, teasing, laced with the promise of temptation.

And then he saw it.

The glass was frosted but not enough to hide everything. Through the haze, he could make out a silhouette. A body. A woman's figure, lit from behind and blurred just enough to leave the rest to imagination. Whoever designed this door clearly wanted to mess with people. Seeing it like this, half-hidden, vague, teasing, was somehow more tempting than seeing it clearly.

He stared at the door handle, lips twitching. He wasn't even sure when his hand moved, but his fingers were already resting against the cool metal. He gave it a gentle push—and it moved.

The door… wasn't even locked.

He tried again, just to be sure, and the handle turned easily under his palm.

Unlocked.

A smirk played on his lips.

Who the hell designs a bathroom door like this unless it's meant to invite trouble?

He chuckled under his breath, voice low and rough, as a wicked smirk formed on his face.

"Well, if you're gonna leave the door open like that…"

And then, slowly, without a second thought, he stepped inside.

(End of Chapter)