The map clearly marked the place as “safe,” which immediately made her suspicious. Tourist maps weren’t supposed to lie. They exaggerated, sure. Made things seem closer, prettier, more charming than they really were. But they didn’t label danger as safety. At least, not this obviously. “Maybe it’s just marketing,” Tom said, peering over her shoulder. “Safe neighborhood, safe streets, safe attractions…” “Safe from what?” Mira asked. He didn’t answer. They stood at the edge of the district, where the city seemed to change abruptly. Cleaner. Brighter. Quieter. Too quiet. “Let’s just take a quick look,” Tom said. Mira hesitated, then followed. Inside, everything felt curated. Perfect storefronts. Smiling people. Soft music drifting through the air. But no one seemed to notice them. Not really. They walked past a café where patrons sat frozen mid-conversation, their expressions just slightly off—as if held in place too long. “Do you see that?” Mira whispered. “Yeah,” Tom said. “I really don’t like this.” A loud chime rang out. Every head turned at once. Not toward them. Toward the street behind them. A group of newcomers stepped into the district, laughing, unaware. The people in the café smiled wider. Too wide. Mira grabbed Tom’s arm. “We need to leave. Now.” They turned— —but the street they’d entered from was gone. Replaced by more perfect buildings. More perfect people. Watching. Waiting. Safe, she realized. Not for visitors. For the city. A place where nothing escaped. In the end, the fire alarm worked perfectly; it just warned the wrong people.