The boy's fingers trembled as he worked at the rotting wood, prying at the weak spot in the frame. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he forced himself to stay steady.
Then he saw her.
The little girl in the other cage—Elena.
At first, he thought she was just sitting there, frozen like the others, but then he noticed her eyes. Focused. Her lips moved, drawing the bandit's attention.
She was distracting him.
A kid. A tiny girl. Standing up to that bastard.
His fingers stopped for a brief second, his breath catching. Why would she do that? She was scared, he could see it in the way she held herself, the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched against the floor of her cage. And yet, she still looked the bandit in the eye. Still forced herself to speak.
Something twisted inside him.
She wasn't just brave—she was foolishly brave. But… wasn't he the same?
A slow, determined breath left his lips as he worked faster.
She's not alone.
I'm not alone.
For the first time since being thrown in this cage, he felt something other than helpless frustration. He felt connected—not just to Elena but to everyone else in this prison. The terrified faces around him weren't just background anymore. They were people, prisoners just like him. If he could get out, they could get out.
They could fight back.
He could be their hero.
A soft crack came from the wood, and his heart jumped. He quickly stilled his hands, darting his gaze toward the bandit.
The bastard was moving.
The bandit turned.
For a single, suffocating second, time stopped.
The boy didn't breathe.
The others in his cage didn't breathe.
A woman near him sucked in a sharp, terrified breath. Someone else gripped their own wrist to keep from making a sound.
But the bandit didn't look their way.
Instead, he grunted, muttered something under his breath, and moved toward another cage farther away.
The boy swallowed the lump in his throat.
Ice-cold fear gripped him as he stared at the bandit's back.
He could still hear the man's heavy boots thudding against the wooden platforms, moving from cage to cage. Any wrong move, any sound, and the bandit would come back.
For a moment, the boy considered stopping. He had made progress, but was it worth the risk? If he got caught, he'd be beaten—maybe worse. The thought made his hands still against the worn wood.
Then his mind flashed back to her.
The small green-haired girl.
She had faced that same fear when the bandit was right in front of her. She could have curled up, stayed quiet like the others. But instead, she had looked him in the eye, refusing to break. She had done that for them, to keep the bandit distracted.
And he had just sat here, watching.
A slow fire lit in his chest.
She hadn't stopped. So he wouldn't either.
He turned to the middle-aged woman beside him, her green hair hanging in messy strands over her shoulders. She had been silent all this time, just another hopeless prisoner—but now, she was watching him closely.
"Watch for me," he whispered.
She blinked, hesitating. Then, slowly, she nodded.
He got back to work, fingers moving carefully over the weakened wood, ignoring the tremor in his hands. He had to focus—
A sudden touch on his shoulder.
He froze.
A sound. A tiny, barely-there creak from the wood beneath his fingers.
His stomach clenched as the bandit's footsteps stopped.
Damn it.
The woman's grip tightened slightly, as if warning him not to move. The others in the cage barely breathed.
Boots stomped closer.
The boy didn't dare look up.
The bandit stopped at their cage, glaring through the bars. For an unbearable moment, the boy could feel his stare, heavy and suspicious.
Then, with a grunt, the bandit muttered, "Tch. Rats in these damn cages."
He turned and walked away.
The boy let out a slow, quiet breath. His heart still pounded, but he had no time to sit frozen in fear.
They weren't caught.
And they still had a chance.
...
Elena watched as the young man resumed working the moment the bandit was gone.
Her fingers curled tightly around the cold bars of her cage.
She wasn't the only one watching.
The old man beside her observed the boy with a weary gaze, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long moment, he exhaled softly.
"This boy…" he murmured, so low only Elena could hear. "If anyone here has a chance… it's him."
Elena wanted to believe that. She really did.
But then she looked past the cages—at the bandits sprawled across the ground, still drunk, still unaware.
Their weapons, however, lay close. Swords, axes, daggers—gleaming in the dim torchlight.
Her stomach twisted.
Even if the young man escaped, then what? He was fast, determined—but they were grown men, armed and dangerous. Even drunk, a single swing from one of those swords would be enough.
Her grip tightened on the bars.
The wood in his cage cracked. A faint splintering sound.
She held her breath.
Another break. The gap widened.
He can do it.
Then she saw the hesitation in his eyes.
Elena didn't know what he was thinking, but she could guess. She had seen that same look before, in the eyes of others who had been forced to make choices far too big for them.
Run alone and have a better chance… or help the others and risk everything.
He gritted his teeth.
Then, the worst thing happened.
The burly bandit was still far away, checking another cage, his attention elsewhere.
Then—
A sharp crack.
The sound wasn't loud, but in the tense silence, it might as well have been a thunderclap.
Elena's breath caught.
The bandit froze. Slowly, his head turned, his bleary eyes narrowing as he scanned the cages.
His gaze landed on the young man.
For a second, there was only stillness.
Then his eyes widened.
"HEY—!"
The young man moved instantly.
He shoved himself through the gap, twisting his body in a way that barely seemed possible.
The bandit's head snapped toward him. His eyes widened.
"HEY—!" he roared, yanking his sword free as he sprinted toward the cage.
Elena's breath caught.
The young man fumbled for a split second—just a moment—but then the cage door swung open. He moved instantly, leaping from his cage to another, gripping the bars like his life depended on it.
"STOP HIM!"
Chaos erupted.
Bandits scrambled below, some reaching for weapons, others rushing toward the cages.
Elena flinched as she saw the other prisoners move—just slightly, their bodies tensing as if ready to act. Hope flickered in their eyes.
But then—
The bandit's furious shout cut through the air.
And hope died.
The prisoners shrank back, some sitting down, others gripping their knees as if pretending they had never moved.
Elena's stomach twisted.
The young man didn't stop. He climbed higher, faster, slipping through the cages, then lunged toward a thick tree branch. His body twisted midair before he caught it, swinging himself up.
For a moment, it almost seemed like he would make it.
Then—
An arrow sliced through the air.
Elena's heart lurched.
The boy barely ducked in time, the arrow skimming past his shoulder.
Another whizzed past, vanishing into the trees.
Below, the bandits roared, their boots pounding against the dirt as they spread out, barking orders.
Elena's breath came fast.
Would he escape?
Would they catch him?
Would he come back?
Her hands trembled as she gripped the bars tighter.
She didn't know.
A firm hand touched her shoulder.
Elena jolted, twisting around to see the old man staring at her, his expression unreadable.
The camp swarmed with movement. The bandits hadn't given up. Some rushed into the woods, others circled the cages, weapons drawn.
Elena forced herself to breathe.
The boy was gone.
...
The bandits cursed, some throwing their weapons to the ground in frustration.
A few gave up, shaking their heads. "He's gone. Ain't no use chasin' him through the woods."
Others weren't so willing to let it go.
"We should track him!" one snarled, his grip tightening around his bow. "Find his trail and drag him back!"
"He's just a kid," another scoffed. "Ain't worth the trouble."
The argument grew heated, some bandits already stomping toward the trees while others waved them off.
Elena barely heard them.
She was still staring at the spot where the boy had vanished.
Gone. Just like that.
A gruff snarl broke through the murmurs.
The burly bandit—the one who had first spotted him—stormed toward the cage the boy had escaped from, his face twisted with anger. He grabbed the bars, shaking them violently before turning on the prisoners.
"You knew!" he bellowed, his voice raw with rage. "You saw him workin' at that cage, and none of you said a word!"
His glare swept over them like a blade, searching for a target.
Some prisoners flinched, lowering their heads, bodies stiff with fear. They knew better than to react, knew better than to give him a reason to lash out.
Others clenched their fists, eyes burning—not with defiance, but something close.
Jealousy.
Hate.
The boy had left them behind.
He was free while they remained.
But then—
A quiet sound.
Soft. Barely noticeable.
Elena turned.
The old man was smiling.
A small, tired smile.
And she felt it, too—the warmth spreading in her chest, the way her lips curled up on their own.
He had escaped.
Even if she was still trapped.
Even if they were still prisoners.
Even if the world seemed dark.
He had escaped.
Not everything was hopeless.
There was still hope.
And in that moment, she wasn't the only one who felt it.
Here and there, scattered among the fear and resentment, others smiled, too.
—End of Chapter.