Gil ran, fast.
As fast as he could.
Too fast for someone who didn't even know what he was running from. But he didn't stop. He couldn't, nor did he dare to.
That feeling from earlier—it was getting stronger.
The city blurred around him.
Lights flickered on as night fell. People filled the streets—workers heading home, others heading out.
And as usual, aside from the same uncomfortable or disdainful looks and some frowns... no one paid him any attention.
People rarely did. And when they did, more often than not, it wasn't for anything good.
He idly remembered as he ran how he had come there alone and lost years ago...
It was funny that, although he was among the first batch of citizens to arrive here, people treated him like an outsider, a foreigner.
They tended to avoid him whenever they could, like he had the plague.
Some did it just because others did, like sheep following the herd.
Some acted out of pure dislike of someone or something different.
Others because, to them, he was a living reminder of something they wished to forget.
The war from years ago.
Far into the distance, beyond the buildings, beyond the small dock and port of the city, a massive structure rose from the sea.
Half of it was broken; it was a small wonder it still stood at all. Another relic of the war. No one liked to talk about it these days.
That war... many would rather forget it... if they could.
That war had started suddenly one day.
There had been no warning, no declaration, and no peace talks.
Everything happened too quickly.
One day, the world was normal—the next, it was burning.
Weapons beyond imagination tore the sky apart and shattered the earth.
Cities were erased.
Continents were swallowed by the ocean.
So many lives were lost that no one could keep count.
And then—it stopped. Just like a magic trick.
Unfortunately, things didn't go back to the way they were.
As for who we were fighting, why, and the final winner of the war, all of it was shrouded in a hazy, mysterious mist, and even speaking of it or rumors about it publicly was taboo and would usually land you in some serious trouble depending on the case.
It may sound absurd, but it's how it is.
But of course, in some corners, where they couldn't be caught, people talked and wondered, giving life to many rumors and hearsay.
Some said the leaders of back then lost control.
Others that it was a conspiracy to upturn the order of society as it was before.
And so and so much more...
Anyway, nothing was ever the same since then.
Now, the survivors lived under one name:
The UNION.
People tended to view this name in different ways:
A promise to build something new together, a ray of hope amidst the darkness;
or a lie, a farce that hypocrites sold to the masses to keep them in check, since it would never truly unite people for long.
Or maybe, it was a bit of both.
Still, one had to admit that progress had been made.
Whether it was because in response to the needs of then or something else.
They rebuilt faster than anyone thought possible, technology advanced.
Lost lands were pulled back from the sea.
A new world was born.
But people... unfortunately, people did not change.
Corruption reared its ugly head again.
Old hatreds resurfaced.
And in some regions, crimes such as slavery, trafficking, and all manners of violence were done under the sun.
It was a different world, sure, but it was still the same humans.
And though order reigned on the surface, it was just that—on the surface.
Gil didn't care about any of that.
Not before.
Not right now.
Because something far more immediate was chasing him.
He had tried to lose that feeling since earlier... without much success.
He turned a corner sharply.
He paused; his breath was ragged, his heart pounding.
That feeling again.
Stronger.
Closer.
"…Damn it," he cursed.
Taking a deep breath, he hesitated a bit and bolted in another direction.
Gil had just resumed his run when a muffled tone rang from his pocket.
He slowed down slightly and pulled out an old phone—worn, outdated, but carefully kept.
Precious.
Along with it, a pair of earbuds.
They were among his few treasures. He would not give them up, not even for all the credits in the world.
The phone was second-hand, something he had earned through a good deed—one he was still proud of. It was filled with old music, books, and novels from before the war.
Things that were hard to find now.
Things he refused to lose.
The earbuds were a gift from his only friend: El.
The one calling him now.
Gil hesitated for a brief second, feeling that he had a bit of an advance on the things pursuing him even if he hadn't lost them, undecided as to whether he should drag his friend into this mess.
Then, the phone rang again; he decided to respond.
"El," he answered.
Loud music blasted through the call, followed by a laugh he knew all too well.
"Mwahahaha! Heard you quit your job! So—did you punch your boss again?"
Gil frowned, annoyed. "…Last time, I kicked the guy. And he deserved it."
"Sure, sure," El replied, amused. "What about this one, then?"
Gil scoffed. "That guy deserved worse. He underpaid me for months, then tried to cheat me again today. Said he 'forgot' the rest of my money."
A pause.
"…Seriously?" El said.
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"…You actually accepted that kind of deal?"
El asked, surprised that his friend had taken such a loss without a sound.
Gil went quiet, then admitted reluctantly:
"…I needed the money."
"You could've asked me."
Gil snorted. "Yeah, right. Borrowing money from the great Elaïdja? I'm not that desperate."
"Aaaah… you and your stupid pride," El sighed.
Gil didn't reply. They both knew it was true. To change the subject, Gil put on his earbuds to have his hands free and accelerated again.
"…El," he said quickly but quieter this time. "I think I'm in trouble."
The tone on the other side changed instantly.
"What kind of trouble?"
"…It's complicated." A pause. "'That' happened again," he said cryptically, trusting El would understand.
And understand he did.
Silence.
The music on the other side of the line stopped.
"…Tell me everything," El said, all playfulness gone from his voice.
Gil explained quickly—what had happened at the site, the manager, the feeling, the gaze.
Everything.
"…I don't like this," El muttered. "That guy was definitely trying to set you up."
Gil could hear him pacing back and forth; he could almost see El biting his thumbnail as he thought, an old habit of his.
"If you had hit him… yeah. That wouldn't have ended well." Then, more serious: "And that 'thing'… anything that triggers it isn't exactly good news, usually. …Where are you right now?"
"I'm heading back to grab some stuff and lay low for a bit—"
He stopped.
Voices on El's side interrupted him.
They sounded urgent.
"Boss! That construction site—we got news. Law enforcement locked it down. Someone died."
Heavy silence followed.
It was Gil who broke it.
Thinking of a certain someone there....
"…I think I know who," Gil said quietly, his feelings mixed.
"No, you don't," El snapped.
A beat. "Listen. This is bad. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."
"Still near my place."
Gil's voice had gone calm.
Too calm.
And on the other side, El didn't like it one bit.
He knew his friend very well; don't let his usual careless act fool you.
Gil had a rather reckless streak to him, just ask his last boss whether it's true or not.
True, he couldn't care less about a great deal of things and lately he had rather cooled down with the years, but if someone were to judge him based on the him of now, push him too much...
Well, Elaïdja would usually pity those fools, but now...
"…Gil," El said slowly, "this isn't normal trouble."
"Yeah."
"We are almost sure that they killed someone just to cover this up. That means they're serious."
"Yeah."
"We need to hide you. Figure out who we're dealing with."
"…Yeah."
El's grip tightened on his phone.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
"Forget your place," he said quickly. "Come to the club. We'll meet halfway and think this through."
Silence.
"El." Something in Gil's voice made El's stomach drop. "…Stay at the club," Gil said.
"…Why?"
A pause.
Then, very quietly: "…Because whoever they are…"
Gil's eyes scanned the street ahead and, smiling bitterly though his friend couldn't see him, said:
"…They've already found me."