That was the lady I saw with...
What was her name again?
The thought flashed through my head and vanished just as quickly as I stumbled down the street.
My chest felt too small.
Every breath seemed to scrape against my ribs on its way in.
The cold air should have helped.
It didn't.
People moved around me in steady streams, going about their day as though nothing had happened. Shopkeepers called to customers. Carriages rattled over stone roads. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed.
The normality of it all felt wrong.
My eyes darted from face to face.
Every glance felt dangerous.
Every movement looked deliberate.
Or maybe I just thought it did.
Did she see my face?
The question dug into me like a hook.
I lowered my head and forced my legs to keep moving.
Not too fast.
Fast enough.
Just enough.
My hand trembled inside my sleeve.
If I can make it to the dockyard...
The thought became a lifeline.
If I can make it to the dockyard, I can board a ship.
If I can board a ship, I can get to the West.
If I reach the West—
My thoughts crashed into one another.
Where do I dispose of—
"Are you okay, Miss?"
The voice struck me like a slap.
I froze.
A man stood a short distance away, concern written plainly across his face.
People continued walking around us.
Nobody seemed interested.
Nobody seemed to notice.
Yet.
"You..." He hesitated.
His gaze lowered slightly.
"You seem to have some blood on your clothing."
Blood.
I looked down.
A dark stain spread across part of my sleeve.
The stain looked too dark, too thick.
For a fraction of a second, my brain argued that I might have spilled coffee, or tea, or paint—anything but the warm reality of what I had just left behind.
Not much.
Too much.
My stomach twisted.
That felt wrong.
Stupid thought.
Everything felt wrong.
The world seemed to tilt.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
My throat felt packed with sand.
And suddenly her face appeared again.
Victoria.
Her eyes.
The confusion.
The fear.
The disbelief.
I grabbed the man by the arm and shoved past him.
Then I ran.
The city blurred.
My heartbeat thundered inside my skull.
Each breath came harder than the last.
If I can make it to the port, I'll be safe.
The thought repeated itself over and over.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
I turned a corner.
My shoes slipped slightly against damp stone.
A carriage rolled past, forcing me closer to a wall.
People shouted.
Someone cursed.
I barely heard any of it.
Sweat ran down my back despite the cold.
I need new clothes.
I need to change.
I need—
The memory returned.
Victoria staring at me.
The knife entering.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The movement had felt unreal then.
It felt even more unreal now.
I could still remember the resistance.
The warmth.
The widening of her eyes.
I nearly stumbled.
No.
No.
Don't think about it.
Just run.
The dockyard wasn't far.
I could almost see it.
The masts.
The cranes.
The ships.
Just a little farther.
Just—
"I think that's quite enough."
A voice came from behind me.
My body locked.
Every muscle tightened.
Something about the calmness of it—
No.
Slowly, I turned.
The young man stood at the entrance of the alley.
The one who had been with Ai.
His expression wasn't angry.
That somehow terrified me more.
"Stay back."
My hand flew to my knife.
Steel flashed.
I took another step backward.
The alley suddenly felt much narrower.
The port remained visible beyond him.
Freedom.
So close.
"Stay back," I repeated.
My voice cracked.
He took a step forward.
I raised the knife.
Another step.
"I'll stab you."
Another step.
Then he vanished.
For a split second my mind failed to understand what I was seeing.
One moment he was there.
The next—
Something struck my stomach.
The force folded me in half.
Air exploded from my lungs.
Pain burst through my abdomen.
The knife slipped from my fingers.
The ground rushed upward.
I hit the stone hard enough to rattle my teeth.
The port remained visible at the end of the alley.
Close.
So impossibly close.
That was the worst part.
"Please..."
The words barely escaped.
"Please don't kill me."
Darkness swallowed everything.
The opening sealed itself behind them.
Silence settled over the room.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Final.
I stared at them.
They stared back.
It was pathetic.
It had taken Victoria's death for me to suddenly cling to my own life.
The realization made something twist inside my chest.
If only I could go back.
If only—
"I'm sorry."
The words burst out before I could stop them.
I dropped to my knees.
"I'm sorry."
No response.
"I didn't—"
My voice broke.
They remained silent.
The blood on my clothing suddenly felt brighter.
More visible.
More real.
The three of them took their seats.
The scrape of chair legs echoed across the room.
I stayed on the floor.
"It was—"
A woman raised a hand.
I stopped immediately.
"Mr Mori is already in police custody."
Her voice was flat.
Controlled.
Professional.
No comfort existed within it.
Not that I deserved any.
My eyes lowered.
Another man leaned forward slightly.
"Miss Mio, correct?"
I nodded weakly.
"A long distance from Twin Spirit Province."
The woman folded her hands together.
The statement wasn't really a question.
Neither of them appeared interested in my answer.
The room felt strange.
Neither warm nor cold.
Just neutral.
Artificial.
Like the space itself had no opinion about whether I deserved to be here.
I clasped my hands together.
My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.
The three Concord employees watched me quietly.
Not cruelly.
Not kindly.
They looked like people evaluating a problem.
A dangerous one.
The dizziness returned.
I swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry."
The words sounded pathetic even to me.
The woman exhaled slowly.
"Can't we just kill her?"
My heart stopped.
I looked up.
Nobody reacted.
Nobody seemed shocked by the suggestion.
The two men simply considered it.
Like discussing paperwork.
Like discussing schedules.
Like discussing weather.
I hated that.
More than shouting.
More than anger.
The realization chilled me.
"Oh goodness."
The room spun slightly.
"That won't do."
One of the men adjusted his glasses.
His tone suggested inconvenience rather than mercy.
Relief failed to arrive.
The final man spoke for the first time.
"Sit down."
His voice carried something that made my stomach tighten.
Not anger.
Not shouting.
Something colder.
A fury so controlled it no longer needed volume.
I moved immediately.
Pride, habit, and terror combined.
I settled into seiza on the floor.
My knees touched the cold surface.
Nobody told me to do so.
It simply felt correct.
Or maybe necessary.
For a few moments nobody spoke.
Then the woman stood.
She walked around the table.
A single sheet of paper appeared before me.
I accepted it with trembling hands.
The title sat at the top.
Conditional Personhood.
I blinked.
Read it again.
Then a third time.
My eyes lifted slowly.
"I thought I was going to prison."
My voice sounded hollow.
Dead.
The woman returned to her seat.
"Mr Mori goes to prison."
She folded her arms.
"Others die."
The statement landed heavily.
No emphasis.
No drama.
Simple fact.
Her gaze settled on me.
"But you do not get off so easily."
Silence followed.
I looked back at the document.
Then at them.
Then back again.
For the first time since waking up, the truth became unavoidable.
I had no leverage.
No allies.
No money.
No influence.
No bargaining position.
Nothing.
The options available to me existed solely because someone else had decided they did.
The paper trembled in my hands.
I remembered a preacher once speaking in a crowded square.
I hadn't paid much attention then.
Yet now the memory returned with perfect clarity.
Some doors close behind you.
Walk through anyway—but know it.
Tears spilled onto the page.
I lowered my head.
The room blurred.
The Concord employees remained silent.
And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the guilt, beneath the grief and desperation, I finally understood something simple.
Beggars did not get to be choosers.
Not anymore.