CODE: DEVOTION

CODE: DEVOTION

CHAPTER 1

THE INVITATION

There was a time when people fell in love without permission.

They met in crowded streets, in quiet cafés, at weddings, in classrooms and sometimes by accident. They argued, laughed, made promises they could not keep, and loved each other anyway. Children were born because two people wanted them—not because a government had calculated that the population needed replacing.

That time was gone.

For years, the population had been falling. Fifty percent of the country's people had disappeared over the course of a generation, and the government had responded the only way it knew how: with programs, incentives, contracts and carefully designed systems.

Love had become policy.

Relationships had become statistics.

And having children had become a national responsibility.

Mara Tendo hated it.

She hated the posters that appeared on public walls encouraging citizens to "Build the Future Together." She hated the government announcements that treated companionship like a civic duty. Most of all, she hated the relationship contracts her generation had grown up seeing as normal.

To Mara, love was supposed to be messy. It was supposed to be surprising. It was supposed to make your heart race for reasons no computer could explain.

She was a writer, although she had not written much worth reading lately.

Her small apartment was crowded with notebooks, half-finished pages and books she had promised herself she would finish. In the centre of the room sat her typewriter, an old-fashioned machine she refused to replace.

She liked the sound of it.

The keys were honest.

They did not suggest what she should write. They did not correct her feelings. They simply waited for her to decide what came next.

Mara believed there was more to the government's story than population decline.

There had to be.

Why had people stopped wanting relationships in the first place? Why had love become something people avoided? Why were so many people happier living alone, surrounded by technology, entertainment and carefully controlled routines?

She had questions.

Unfortunately, she had no answers.

So she decided to write.

If romance no longer existed in the real world, perhaps she could bring it back through fiction.

Fantasy novels. Love stories. Impossible romances.

Anything that reminded people that falling for someone was supposed to feel like falling.

There was only one problem.

She had no idea what her first novel would be about.

Mara stared at the blank sheet in her typewriter.

The page stared back.

"Come on," she whispered.

Nothing.

She leaned back and sighed.

She had always been the girl who dreamed of a romance that seemed to belong to another age.

Her parents had once loved each other. At least, that was what Mara remembered.

They had her and her younger brother, Delyn, under a relationship contract. For a while, their family had looked exactly like the picture the government wanted every family to become.

Then the contract ended.

So did the marriage.

The memory still hurt.

"My parents had Delyn and me on a contract before separating," Mara said quietly. "I just don't want the same for myself."

She looked down at her hands.

The thought of spending her life trapped in an arrangement chosen by someone else frightened her more than being alone ever could.

She reached for another notebook.

"Rom-coms barely exist anymore," she complained to the empty room. "Everything is about technology, wealth and other stupid things like sports, living-alone diaries..."

She made a face.

"I hate that stuff."

She returned to the typewriter.

Still nothing.

Then, suddenly, the screen beside it lit up.

Mara froze.

A notification appeared.

For a moment she simply stared at it.

The message carried the government seal.

She hesitated before opening it.

The words on the screen were simple:

SYSTEM GAME INITIATIVE

PARTICIPANT SELECTION NOTICE

Mara read the message once.

Then again.

Her eyes widened.

She scrolled.

She had been selected as a participant in a new government initiative designed to encourage relationships and, ultimately, childbirth.

For several seconds she could not breathe.

Then she saw the payment.

One million dollars.

Mara stared at the figure.

Her mouth fell open.

She should have been thinking about the money.

Instead, she was thinking about one thing.

Romance.

"This is it."

She jumped to her feet.

"Yes! Finally!"

She laughed, almost stumbling over a pile of books as she crossed the room.

The million dollars remained untouched on the screen.

Mara barely noticed it.

The moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived.

She could go somewhere new. Meet new people. Experience something outside the carefully controlled life she had grown tired of.

And perhaps, if she was lucky, she could discover the thing she had spent years writing about without ever experiencing.

Love.

With no time left to waste, she began packing.

Books first.

Then notebooks.

Then snacks.

She paused at the doorway and looked back at her apartment.

Her bed.

Her typewriter.

Her familiar walls.

Her ordinary life.

For the first time, they did not feel comforting.

They felt small.

"I can bring romance back," she whispered.

She smiled.

And for once, the blank page did not frighten her.

It excited her.

Days passed slowly.

Mara waited.

She checked the notification several times a day, reread the instructions and imagined every possible version of what was waiting for her.

She tried to write during those days, but every sentence somehow turned into a question about the program.

Who would she meet?

What would happen?

Why had she been selected?

And what exactly did the government mean by a "system game"?

She had no answers.

Only anticipation.

Then the day finally came.

A bus stopped outside her apartment.

Mara stood by the window, staring at it.

Her stomach tightened.

The excitement was still there, but now it had been joined by something unfamiliar.

Fear.

"I haven't felt nervous all my life," she whispered.

She looked around her room.

"To think that I'm giving up my normal routine, my bed, my snacks..."

She laughed nervously.

"...for a life I am not even certain of."

She picked up her bag.

"This is a huge risk."

She paused.

Then she smiled.

"But on second thought, I never liked my life here anyway."

She walked to the mirror.

For a moment, she studied her reflection.

The girl staring back at her looked nervous.

But underneath the nerves was determination.

Adventure was waiting.

A chance to make history was waiting.

Mara wasn't about to back down.

She took one final look at herself.

Then she turned away.

She did not look back.

The moment her feet touched the bus steps, something inside her settled.

Whatever happened next, she had chosen it.

And somehow, she knew this was meant for her.

***

Across the country, in a quieter part of the world, another participant was preparing to leave.

His name was Chris Luke.

Unlike Mara, Chris had not spent years dreaming about romance.

He was a farmer.

He lived in the quiet woods with his parents, where life moved according to seasons rather than schedules. His days were simple: work the land, repair what needed repairing, eat with his family and sleep without worrying about government statistics.

But simplicity did not mean freedom.

Chris was an only child.

His parents had spent years reminding him that the family lineage depended on him.

"Marriage."

"Children."

"Someone to settle down with."

The words had become so familiar that Chris had stopped arguing.

"As an only child, my parents keep pressing me to get married and have kids to maintain our lineage," he said. "But, of course, marriage isn't as easy these days."

He shook his head.

"So they signed me up for the government program to get a woman to settle down with."

Chris gave a small, resigned smile.

"Well, I couldn't exactly say no to them bidding against the odds."

The bus arrived.

His parents stood outside their home as he packed his things.

Chris hugged them goodbye.

Neither of them said much.

There was too much uncertainty for easy words.

He climbed onto the bus and found a seat next to the window.

Once he was settled, he put his music player into his ears and watched the other participants.

Some looked excited.

Some looked terrified.

Others looked as though they had already decided they wanted to go home.

Chris studied them quietly.

Then he realized something.

He wasn't the only one who had been pushed into this.

The realization was strangely reassuring.

He leaned back with a small, smug smile.

"It felt reassuring to know," he later said.

Then the bus stopped again.

And Mara boarded.

She was clumsy and happy at the same time, carrying her belongings with far more enthusiasm than coordination.

Her eyes were bright with determination.

Chris watched her find a seat.

He had expected someone selected for a government relationship experiment to look nervous.

She looked thrilled.

"I did not expect someone to be happy," Chris admitted. "I felt intrigued."

His eyes followed her.

Mara seemed unaware that anyone was watching.

Then, just as she settled into her seat, she turned.

Their eyes met.

Mara gave him a warm, nervous smile.

Chris looked away almost immediately.

"I could swear my heart skipped a beat," he said.

He stared at the music player in his hand.

"That was my first wrong impression."

He sighed.

"All I could pray for was not to have any encounters with her."

He had no idea how impossible that prayer would become.