Ashvault

Ren Kade signed a contractor's indenture for one reason: his sister Wren is dying, and the free clinics will not treat her. The Ashvault pays forty thousand marks up front against future floors. It does not mention what it charges interest in, and the definition sits on a page he has already signed past. He dies ninety minutes into his first shift, on Floor One, on a spike plate set eight inches wide of the chalk he was told to trust. Then the Vault offers him a contract instead of an ending. Clear a floor and keep it. Die, and lose everything but the memory. There are one hundred floors, and Ren has a broken shovel, a system that only tells the truth after it is too late, and an accountant's habit of noticing the wrong thing one second after it matters. The only thing death cannot take from him is what he read on the way down.