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The voice came before the pain.
"Three million yuan. Fourteen percent compound interest. You have ninety-six days left before they stop negotiating."
Lin Mo opened his eyes. Cold concrete under his back. The air smelled like rust and old piss and something burnt he couldn't name. His arm throbbed. He turned his head and saw the tattoo.
Black ink, sharp lines, spreading from his wrist to his elbow like a circuit diagram drawn by someone who'd seen too many horror movies. It moved. The lines shifted under his skin, rearranging themselves into shapes that almost looked like words.
"What the hell."
"The Trade Curse," the voice said. It came from the tattoo. "You accepted the contract when you crossed the threshold. Payment structures are now active."
Lin sat up too fast. His head swam. He was in a narrow space between two shipping containers, both painted over with rust and graffiti he couldn't read. Overhead, a string of LED bulbs threw weak yellow light across a corridor that stretched in both directions. People walked past the gap without looking in. He heard voices, footsteps, the clang of metal on metal somewhere distant.
"Where am I?"
"The Undercity. Subsection C, container block nine. You've been here four hours."
Lin's throat was dry. He remembered running. Lei's guys behind him, getting closer. The subway entrance that shouldn't have been open. Then nothing.
He pushed himself up and stumbled out of the gap. The corridor opened into something bigger. A market, maybe, if markets were built from gutted train cars and shipping containers stacked three high. Bare bulbs and neon signs in languages he half-recognized. Stalls selling things he couldn't identify. People moved through the space like they knew where they were going, faces down, shoulders tight.
No one looked at him.
"You need to move," the tattoo said. "Standing still marks you as new. New means target."
Lin started walking. His legs felt wrong, like he'd been asleep too long. "You're in my head."
"I'm on your arm. You're hearing me because the contract includes neural interface. It's more efficient than speech."
"I didn't sign anything."
"You crossed the threshold. That's signature enough."
Lin passed a stall selling phones that looked half-melted. Another with rows of pill bottles, labels scraped off. A third with what might have been meat, hanging from hooks, the smell thick enough to taste. His stomach turned.
"I need to get out."
"Topside access is restricted. You're on three watchlists now. Lei's crew, the loan company, and the Bureau. Going up means getting caught."
"So I'm stuck here."
"Until you pay what you owe or trade for an exit route."
Lin stopped. A woman brushed past him, muttered something sharp in a language he didn't know. He moved to the side, pressed his back against a container wall. The metal was cold through his shirt.
"Trade what? I don't have anything."
The tattoo shifted. The lines rearranged into something that looked like a price list, except the currency was wrong.
"You have time. You have memory. You have senses. The Curse allows equivalent exchange. You pay with what you are. You receive what you need."
Lin stared at his arm. The list scrolled past. Three days of lifespan for a piece of information. One week for a weapon. A month for a false identity. His left eye's vision for a route map. Five years for a clean slate.
His hands started shaking.
"This is insane."
"This is the market rate. You can negotiate, but the Curse sets the floor."
Footsteps behind him. Lin turned. Two guys, both bigger than him, both wearing the same dark blue jackets. One had a scar across his jaw. The other had knuckles wrapped in tape.
"You Lin Mo?" Scar-jaw said.
Lin didn't answer.
"Thought so. Su Jin wants to see you. Now."
They didn't wait for him to agree. Tape-knuckles grabbed his arm, the one without the tattoo, and pulled. Lin stumbled after them. They moved through the market fast, past stalls and clusters of people, down a side corridor that smelled worse than the main one. The walls here were older, concrete instead of metal, water stains running down in streaks.
They stopped at a door. Scar-jaw knocked twice, then pushed it open.
The room inside was small. A desk, two chairs, a single overhead bulb. A woman sat behind the desk. Mid-thirties, hair pulled back tight, eyes that looked at Lin like she was pricing him by the pound. Su Jin. He knew the name. Everyone in the Undercity knew the name.
"Sit," she said.
Lin sat. Tape-knuckles and Scar-jaw stayed by the door.
Su Jin leaned back in her chair. "You've been here four hours and you already have a Curse mark. That's fast. Most people take a week before they get desperate enough."
"I didn't choose this."
"No one does." She pulled a cigarette from a pack on the desk, lit it, blew smoke toward the ceiling. "But you've got it now. Which means you're either useful or you're taking up space I don't have. So tell me. Which one are you?"
Lin's mouth was dry. "I don't know what you want."
"I want to know if you're worth the air you're breathing. You've got a Curse. That means you can trade. Trade means you can get things. I need things. One of my guys went missing three days ago. No one's seen him. No one knows where he went. You get me answers, I'll let you stay. You don't, I'll send you back topside and let Lei's crew have you."
The room felt smaller. Lin looked at his arm. The tattoo was still.
"How am I supposed to find someone down here? I've been here four hours."
Su Jin tapped ash into a tray. "You've got a Curse. Ask it."
Lin swallowed. He looked down at the tattoo. The lines shifted, waiting.
"Can you find him?" he said quietly.
"Specify the target."
"Su Jin's missing guy. Three days gone."
The lines moved faster. Text scrolled across his skin, too fast to read. Then it stopped.
"Information available. Cost: three days of lifespan."
Lin's chest went tight. Three days. He didn't know how much time he had left, but three days sounded short. It sounded manageable. It sounded like nothing.
It sounded like a lie.
"What happens if I say yes?"
"Lifespan is removed from your biological clock. You will not feel the loss immediately. The trade is irreversible."
Su Jin was watching him. Smoke curled between them.
"Clock's ticking," she said.
Lin closed his eyes. Opened them. "Do it."
The tattoo flared hot. Pain shot up his arm, sharp and bright, like someone had dragged a blade through the ink. He heard his own breath hiss through his teeth. The heat spread, into his chest, into his ribs, into the space behind his heart. For a second he felt it. Felt something peel away from him, thin and vital, something he didn't have a name for.
Then it was gone.
The tattoo cooled. New text appeared.
"Target located. Deceased. Location: container block seven, subsection E, third unit from the east entrance. Cause of death: blunt trauma to the skull. Time of death: forty-seven hours ago."
Lin read it twice. His arm still throbbed.
Su Jin leaned forward. "Well?"
"He's dead," Lin said. His voice sounded flat. "Container block seven. Third unit from the east entrance. Someone caved his head in two days ago."
The room went quiet. Su Jin's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind her eyes. She took another drag, then stubbed the cigarette out.
"You better not be lying."
"I'm not."
She stood. "Show me."
They walked. Su Jin in front, Lin beside her, Tape-knuckles and Scar-jaw behind. The market noise faded as they moved deeper into the container blocks. The lights here were spaced farther apart. The air was colder. Lin's arm still ached.
Block seven was older than block nine. The containers were stacked unevenly, some tilted, some rusted through. Su Jin stopped at the third unit and pulled the door open.
The smell hit first. Blood and rot and something chemical. Lin gagged. Su Jin stepped inside. He followed.
The body was in the corner. Face down, one arm bent wrong, dried blood pooled under his head. He was wearing the same dark blue jacket as the guys behind Lin.
Su Jin crouched next to him. Didn't touch. Just looked.
"That's him," she said quietly.
Lin stayed by the door. His stomach was rolling. He'd never seen a dead body before. Not like this.
Su Jin stood and turned. Her face was stone. "You just bought yourself a place to sleep and three meals a day. Don't make me regret it."
She walked past him, out into the corridor. Tape-knuckles and Scar-jaw followed. Lin stood there for another second, staring at the body, at the blood, at the wrong angle of the arm.
Then he turned and walked out.
The door swung shut behind him. The smell stayed in his nose.