Kill The Temptation — 10 :

Elias reached for his wallet. His fingers brushed a weathered photograph tucked behind his ID. It wasn't a happy memory. It was a photo of his daughter's graduation—the one he had missed because he was passed out in a digital haze three years ago.

His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown sender: 10 : Kill the Temptation

Elias stepped into the rainy alleyway. At the far end stood a Dealer, his eyes glowing with the tell-tale violet hue of an Echo user. He held a small, silver chip—a "Level 10" hit. It was pure, unadulterated nostalgia. One dose could make Elias feel his wedding day for a thousand years in a single second. Elias reached for his wallet

The temptation was a physical weight, pulling his arm toward the silver chip. His brain chemistry was firing in all the wrong directions, demanding the dopamine hit. "Kill it," he hissed to himself. "Kill the ghost." It was a photo of his daughter's graduation—the

"Just one," Elias whispered. The Dealer smiled, a predatory tilt of the head. "The first one is always 'just one,' Elias. But this is a Ten. You won’t ever want to come back."