Chapter 16 – Poisoned Waters
Patrick had never truly been part of the town.
From the moment Min had taken him in, the house became both his shelter and his prison. The windows were his only view of the outside world — a place that seemed loud, bright, and full of people who would never welcome him.
He had no friends. No one to miss him. No one to notice if he vanished.
Over the years, he had watched the town laugh, celebrate, and live while he remained hidden. He saw their markets overflowing with food while he counted every crumb on his plate. He saw families holding each other close while his own heart sat hollow and cold.
The bitterness had started as a whisper in the back of his mind. Now it was a roar that consumed him.
"They took everything from me," he murmured, staring at the small vial he had stolen from Min's cupboard. The liquid inside shifted with each step, almost eager to be freed. His lips trembled. "They never even knew my name… but they'll remember me."
Tonight was the night.
Patrick slipped through the silent halls of the house, every floorboard threatening to betray him. Min slept somewhere above, unaware. The night air hit him like a wave when he stepped outside — his first time in weeks.
The streets were quiet, only the distant creak of wood and the rustle of leaves keeping him company. He made his way toward the well, the heart of the town.
Two guards stood watch under the dull glow of a lantern, their shadows stretching long across the cobblestones.
"Halt!" one called sharply, his hand hovering over his sword. "Where do you think you're going at this hour?"
Patrick said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the well beyond them.
"Speak," the second guard ordered, stepping closer.
Patrick finally looked at them — not with fear, but with a coldness that made the hair on their necks rise.
"You wouldn't understand," he said softly. Then, louder, his voice breaking under the weight of years of silence: "They took everything from me. Now it's time for payback."
The first guard moved, steel flashing in the lantern light. Patrick's dagger met him first, slicing across his throat in a single, practiced motion. Blood sprayed the cobblestones.
The second guard shouted and lunged, but Patrick sidestepped, burying his blade deep into the man's side. The guard's breath left him in a wet gasp before he collapsed.
For a moment, Patrick stood over the bodies, chest rising and falling. He felt no triumph — only the numb certainty that this was necessary.
At the well, he uncorked the vial. The poison slipped into the water like smoke curling into darkness. He watched until the last drop was gone, until the ripples faded.
By morning, the town would drink. And they would pay.
Patrick turned back toward Min's home, the night swallowing him whole.