Beside the girl, hiding behind the leg of a chair… was a boy.
He couldn't have been more than eight. Small, thin, and trembling with the kind of stillness that wasn't just fear but survival instinct. Kael remembered him. His pointed ears twitched faintly, betraying how alert he really was, and in his arms, a stuffed animal hung limp, its seams frayed and one eye missing.
His blue eyes, exactly like the girl's, were wide, solemn, and locked on Kael like he was something dangerous.
Kael's breath caught at the sight of him.
Was I really that close to dying in that alley… and leaving this kid behind?
The thought hit like a punch to the chest, sinking deep in his gut. He hadn't even thought about it like that, about what it would've meant if he hadn't made it. He'd thought about pain. About failure. About fear. But not about this.
Not about the boy he could've left behind in that bloodstained street.
What a terrifying, fragile relief… he made it out alive somehow, and against all odds. Just like Kael.
Looking back, there had been too many close calls, times when the line between life and death blurred so thin it almost vanished. The alley had just been one of them. But it was the weight of them all, the steady piling of narrow escapes that finally made him feel it.
It wasn't just exhaustion.
It was the creeping realization that one day, he wouldn't crawl back.
It felt like he was still trapped in that nightmare. A blur of blood, panic, systems, sirens…
And now, even in this dim room, with the smell of herbs and sweat clinging to the air, he couldn't tell if it was over or if he was still in the middle of it.
His gaze shifted up. Still there, hovering in the air like an accusation:
[ You have several unread messages ]
He stared at it and swallowed hard. It still doesn't feel real. None of this did.
Kael didn't understand what had happened. Maybe he never would. But one thing mattered:
He'd made it back.
He was still breathing. Barely.
His throat was raw, like he'd swallowed smoke. But he forced the words out anyway.
"I… remember you," he rasped, his eyes flicking to the girl. "From the game. The—" He stopped, blinking hard. "Where am I?"
"Safe," the girl answered, her voice flat. "For now anyways. You've been out for almost eight hours."
Kael blinked, his vision swimming slightly. He tried to sit up again, slower this time. His torso was wrapped in tight white gauze, stained with dried blood. The bruises underneath looked like ink spilled beneath the skin.
"You helped me?" he asked, hoarse. "You shouldn't have—"
"I did," she cut in. "So save your breath."
The edge in her tone caught him off guard. She stood, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her movements brisk but tired.
"You were in an alley," she said, her tone distant. "Two corpses next to you. Barely a pulse. Honestly… we thought you wouldn't make it."
Her words hung in the air like the echo of a bell struck too hard.
Two corpses?
But there were three.
There were supposed to be three.
So where's the last one?
From what memory served, there had been five people in the alley. Not including himself… and the boy.
That left three others: Sean and his gang. He remembered their faces twisted with cruelty. He remembered their laughter, their fists.
So… what did she mean by two bodies?
His heartbeat kicked against his ribs.
Where were the others? What happened to them? Where did the last one go?
His breathing grew shallow.
Were they safe?
No—did they deserve to be safe?
The silence stretched thin, tensed with something unspoken.
"We almost left you," the child added softly, edging out just a little from the chair.
Kale turned to look at him—the boy with hollow eyes and a voice too calm for his age. The kid was scared, but he wasn't running. That counted for something.
Almost left me?
Why didn't you?
What stopped you?
What did you see?
And beneath all that, one final thought whispered like a chill across his spine:
What did I do?
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter this time. "...So why didn't you?"
The girl gave a dry, bitter smile. "Because you looked human."
Kael's jaw tensed. "I am human."
The girl didn't flinch. Didn't confirm. She didn't deny it, either. She just stared at him like she was still deciding.
Then, finally, she stepped forward. "Let me see the wound."
Kael's grip on the blanket tightened. "No."
"I have to check it," she said, her tone softening just a touch. "You were bleeding inside. If it's gotten worse—"
"I said no."
Kael swung his legs off the bed and sat up, forcing himself upright. Pain ripped through his side like fire. He nearly collapsed, catching the bedframe for support, but stayed standing.
"I didn't ask for help," he muttered, eyes low. "I didn't ask for any of this."
The words came out harsher than he meant.
The child flinched, shrinking behind the chair again. The girl narrowed her eyes. Something in her jaw clenched.
"Where are my clothes, please?" Kael asked. His voice was quieter now. Tired. His eyes scanned the room like the answer might be hiding in a corner.
She tilted her head, suspicious. "Why?"
"I need to get back," he muttered, forcing steadiness into his voice even as it threatened to crack. "Back to where I was."
She crossed her arms. "Oh, yeah? To what, exactly? Where is it that you're so desperate to return to?"
Kael froze.
The words stuck. Because he didn't know.
Not really.
He had no plan. No destination. No one waiting. Just the ache in his chest and a vague idea that moving—anywhere—was safer than staying still.
His eyes dropped. "It doesn't matter."
She looked at him for a long moment. "Yeah. Uh-huh. Now, see that leg of yours? If you start walking on it too soon, you could lose it."
She motioned toward the thick tourniquet cinched tightly around his thigh.
"Do you even see what you're standing on?"
Kael glanced down. The leg throbbed, numb and hot at once. But he said nothing.
"I've had worse," he murmured. "This isn't the worst thing I've walked off."
He tried to straighten, shifting more weight onto the injured leg as if sheer will could stop it from buckling.
She stepped toward him, slow and deliberate. Her eyes were sharp as flint.
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
Kael blinked. "What?"
"We feed you. Give you a bed. Patch you up. And this—" She gestured at him, her voice rising, "This is how you repay us? Just limping off like some… wounded prince?"
Kael instinctively took a step back.
Her boots hit the floor in hard, deliberate thuds.
"You say nothing. You thank no one. No explanations of where you come from, not even who you are. You just decide you're done… get up and leave? Is that how you work?"
Kael's back met the wall. He stiffened.
Her voice climbed, sharp with emotion. "That's very rude, don't you think?"
She was inches from him now. Her breath smelled faintly of mint, but underneath it… metal. Like blood or rust.
Her eyes had lost their sharpness. Now they were wild and unpredictable, something feral blinking behind them.
Kael raised his hands slowly like someone facing a stray dog that might bite. "I'm sorry."
It wasn't fear in his voice. But it wasn't far from it, either.
The girl just stared at him like she was trying to read a language she didn't speak. Then, just like that, she stepped back.
"Well," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear with a forced calm, "that's a start."
Kael moved to pass her, every muscle in his body braced, expecting something—another shout, a shove, maybe a reason to stop.
She didn't touch him.
Only turned slightly, watching like someone might watch a wild animal retreat: carefully, cautiously, never taking her eyes off it.
"Then go," she said finally. Her voice was flat. "Door's right there."
Kael didn't say a word. He didn't look back. He reached quickly for the handle and made the mistake of turning it—
Click.
Cold metal met his forehead.
He froze.
In the doorway stood a short, broad-shouldered woman. Her silver hair was pulled into a tight, no-nonsense bun, and her apron was stained with herbs, soot, and dried blood. Her boots were thick with mud.
Her face was calm. Almost grandmotherly.
Except for the shotgun she held. And the way it didn't tremble, not even a little.