"Where can I find this courier?" Kai asked.
Aluth didn't answer right away. Instead, he shifted in his throne, the steel creaking under his weightless body, and gestured lazily toward the boy standing in front of Kai.
The child had short-cropped hair, scars scattered across his jawline like someone had dragged glass across his skin. His eyes were bright, piercing blue—too alive for a face that had already seen more violence than most men.
"Ask him," Aluth said. "He's been shadowing the courier's routes for weeks. Knows every alley, every cut-through, every face that shouldn't be there." The Broker chuckled, a low rasp. "He'll guide you. He'll protect you. He'll watch how you bleed."
Kai's gaze lingered on the boy. Blue eyes, scars, short hair, and a stillness that felt older than his years. The knife on his belt wasn't an ornament; it was worn smooth from use.
"You can't be more than twelve," Kai muttered.
The boy didn't flinch. "Twelve's enough." His voice was flat, practiced, like he'd said it a hundred times before.
Aluth's chuckle scraped the walls. "See? Old enough to know the price. Young enough not to care."
Kai's throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to call it wrong, but the Broker's smile made the words die in his chest.
The boy shifted his weight, eyes never leaving Kai's face. "The courier runs Market Row at dusk. Carries a pouch tied with red thread. We'll take it."
Kai looked at him, horrified and strangely relieved at the same time. He had a guide. He had no choice.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Show me."
The child had a rifle and gestured for Kai to follow to which he did.
---
The streets pressed in close as Kai walked beside the boy. The air reeked of oil smoke and blood gone sour in the gutters. Neon sputtered overhead, throwing jagged light across cracked pavement.
Kai kept his shoulders tight, trying not to brush against anyone. The boy walked loose, knife hand swinging casual, eyes sweeping like a stray dog trained to bite.
Then it happened.
A man came the other way, broad-shouldered, not even looking. His arm clipped Kai's chest. Just a bump. An accident.
Kai opened his mouth to mutter something, but the boy was already moving.
Steel flashed. The blade slid up under the man's jaw, clean and deep, bursting red across Kai's boots. The body spasmed, knees giving way. The boy kicked him aside like garbage, letting him flop across the stones.
No hesitation. No anger. Just the rhythm of breathing.
The boy looked up at Kai and smiled — not wide, not cruel, just a small flick of pride, like he'd done his job. Then he turned and kept walking, knife still wet, eyes already searching the crowd ahead.
Kai's stomach twisted. He wanted to shout, to grab the boy's arm, to demand why. But the city didn't stop. The crowd barely glanced at the corpse. They flowed around it like water around a stone.
So Kai kept walking too.
His hands clenched in his pockets, nails digging into his palms. Disgust chewed at him, but survival kept his feet moving.
The boy's voice broke the silence. "Courier's close."
Kai followed his gaze.
Ahead, a man in a patched coat moved quick through the crowd. At his side swung a pouch tied with a strip of red thread.
The courier.
Kai slowed, melting into the tide of bodies. The boy shifted with him, small and patient, knife hand twitching.
They stalked.
---
The courier was easy to spot once you knew what to look for. His patched coat swung low, frayed at the edges but stitched where it mattered. A leather strap crossed his chest, holding the pouch with the red-thread knot tight against his ribs. He walked like a man who knew eyes were always on him — chin tucked, shoulders loose, hand brushing the pouch every few steps like a nervous tick.
Kai and the boy slid into the crowd behind him. The child's voice was barely louder than the shuffle of boots.
"It's your job. I'm just here to make sure you don't die." A pause. Then, almost amused: "Which Aluth rarely cares about."
Kai's jaw tightened. He hated the way the boy said it, so flat, like life and death were just chores to be ticked off.
Still, he forced himself closer. Picking pockets had been survival once — scraps, cigarettes, coins, whatever kept him alive. He told himself this was no different. Just another mark. Just another street.
The courier paused at a stall, pretending to haggle over a handful of bolts. Kai slipped closer, weaving between two women arguing over a sack of grain. His hand moved low, practiced, sliding toward the strap at the courier's ribs—
The man spun fast, quicker than Kai thought possible. His elbow slammed into Kai's temple, white sparks bursting across his vision. Kai staggered, grip empty.
The courier's pistol was already up. The barrel filled Kai's world.
Bang.
Pain tore through the couriers skull. The ground rose and slammed into him. The city's noise vanished into a ringing void.
He lay sprawled on the stones, blood hot down his face, the sky shattering into black.
Somewhere above him, he heard the boy sigh. A long, disappointed sound.
"Pathetic," the child muttered.
Boots scraped. The boy moved forward, knife in hand, already finishing what Kai had failed to start.
The bullet has clipped the side of the man's head
He aware of what happened started begging for his life
"You bastards! Let me live or I swear to God I will rain hellfire down upon you!!"
The knife enters his neck and the kid laughs as he chokes on the blood.
Kai didn't know what to do...
But they brush off the encounter and grab the pouch that was tied with red thread.