Chapter 15 – The Mute Girl Who Watched
The city moved in waves—unpredictable, harsh, and relentless—like the ebb and flow of an ocean that never truly calms. But within the chaotic pulse of the Eternal Slums, Axel's small corner of the world had found its rhythm. The Bathhouse continued to thrive. Every day, the fire crackled brightly, the steam rising from the simmering pots, and the smell of Sun-Spiced Bone Broth drifted out through the open door, bringing in the lost, the broken, and the desperate. Every night, the line of hungry people grew longer, a crowd that stood not just for food, but for something more.
Among the crowd, there was one face that Axel had come to notice—a girl.
She wasn't like the others. She wasn't there in the midst of the clamor, her eyes wide with hunger or her hands clutching at the wooden bowls in desperation. No. This girl, whom Axel had come to call "the mute girl," watched from the shadows.
She didn't approach the Bathhouse directly. Instead, she always stood across the alley, her small frame partially hidden by the crumbling walls and rusted metal debris that littered the forgotten corners of the city. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark strands that fell to her shoulders, and her clothes were nothing more than rags, faded and torn from the years. Despite her disheveled appearance, there was something strangely dignified about her. A quiet, almost eerie calm emanated from her as she observed, always standing at a distance.
Axel first noticed her the third night after opening. She had been there when he began serving, standing in the shadows, too far away for him to see her clearly but close enough for her to observe the gathering crowd. The next night, she was there again, her dark eyes trained on the Bathhouse's entrance, watching the people line up for their bowls of broth.
And then, after a few days of this silent observation, Axel decided to do something about it.
That evening, after the last patron had left, he set out a bowl of Sun-Spiced Bone Broth on the crate outside the Bathhouse, just at the edge of the alley where she stood. The fire in the hearth flickered weakly, the evening chill creeping through the walls, but the aroma of the broth filled the space with warmth. Axel glanced over toward the shadows where the girl usually stood, but this time, she wasn't there.
He waited.
It wasn't long before she appeared, slipping from the dark crevice between two broken walls. She moved with careful precision, her footsteps soft, as if avoiding any unnecessary attention. Axel watched her from the doorway, his hand still resting on the ladle, waiting for her to make the move. She approached the bowl, her expression unreadable, her movements hesitant. For a long moment, she stood there, looking at the food as though it were something foreign to her, something she had never encountered before.
Then, slowly, she crouched down, reaching out with one trembling hand to take the bowl.
Axel held his breath. Would she take it? Or would she refuse, as she had always done with the offerings from the other vendors?
The girl's fingers hovered above the bowl, and Axel's heart skipped a beat as she finally, with an almost imperceptible nod to herself, took the bowl and turned, disappearing back into the shadows of the alley. She didn't meet his gaze. She didn't speak, not even a whisper.
The next night, Axel did the same. Another bowl, another quiet offering placed just outside the door. And once again, the girl appeared, just as silent and watchful as before. This time, she didn't hesitate. She reached for the bowl without a second thought, her pale fingers curling around the edge of the wooden vessel, and disappeared again into the darkness.
By the third night, Axel had already come to expect her. But he couldn't help himself—he was curious.
Her silence intrigued him. He didn't know why she was mute, why she never spoke, or why she seemed so disconnected from the world around her. Was she afraid? Did she even want the food, or was she just taking it out of necessity? And why did she never make a sound, never even offer a glance in his direction? Was it shame? Or something else?
Axel's nights began to revolve around her. Each time he set the bowl out, he would find her there waiting. Each time, she would take the food, but never look him in the eye.
He couldn't understand it, but somehow, it didn't bother him. She didn't ask for anything beyond the food, and that, for now, was enough. The city had never been kind, and maybe that was why she held herself so distantly. Maybe that was why she seemed so resigned to the shadows.
Then, one evening, Axel arrived at the stall earlier than usual. The streets were quieter that night, the usual crowd having already dispersed by the time he had started preparing the next batch of broth. He was just finishing cleaning a pot when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
The mute girl was standing across the alley, but this time, she wasn't alone.
A group of men stood in the shadows, their postures aggressive, their hands rough with the familiarity of violence. Axel could hear their low laughter from where he stood. His blood ran cold as he recognized the men.
They were the same thugs who had been terrorizing the area, the ones who extorted the nearby vendors and threatened anyone who dared stand up to them. They had harassed some of his patrons, but Axel hadn't yet confronted them. He had thought it better to let things lie, to focus on feeding people, keeping the fire burning. But now, they were cornering her.
The mute girl stood against the wall, trapped between the alley's narrow walls. Her eyes darted around, but she said nothing. She didn't cry out, didn't beg for mercy. But the look in her eyes—fear mixed with resignation—was enough to send a chill down Axel's spine.
He didn't think. He couldn't. There was no time.
Axel moved quickly, his hand snatching up a butcher's cleaver from the table before he stepped out into the alley. His footsteps were light but firm, purposeful. He didn't announce his presence; there was no warning. He had no intention of allowing these men to hurt her, or anyone else. The fire in his chest burned hot, fueled by something primal, something that needed to be unleashed.
As he neared them, the men turned. The one in the front—a tall, gaunt figure with a scar running across his cheek—smiled at him, his hand drifting to the knife at his belt.
"Well, well," he sneered. "Look what we have here. The little cook, trying to be a hero."
Axel didn't flinch. "Move," he said simply, his voice low and cold.
The thug raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What's the matter? You think you're gonna stop us?"
Axel's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to touch her."
The thug laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the alley. "And what if we don't listen? What if we just—"
Axel didn't let him finish.
With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them, his cleaver slashing upward in a flash. The thug barely had time to react, his knife coming up to block, but Axel's strike was fast, brutal, and precise. The cleaver slammed into the thug's wrist with a sickening crunch, knocking the blade from his hand. The man howled, stumbling back, clutching his injured arm.
The others moved, but Axel was already a blur. His movements were fluid, controlled, as he struck again and again. He didn't waste time with words or threats. Each strike was meant to disable, to incapacitate. One man went down with a knife to his side. Another was knocked into the wall, his head hitting the stone with a sickening thud. The third tried to run, but Axel's boot met his back, sending him crashing to the ground.
The alley fell silent.
Axel stood over the men, his chest heaving, the cleaver still gripped in his hand. The fire inside him roared, but the danger had passed. The thugs lay sprawled in the dirt, their groans mingling with the silence of the night.
The mute girl remained where she had been, still pressed against the wall, her eyes wide, her body frozen in fear. Axel turned to her, breathing heavily, the fire from the fight still simmering in his veins. He wiped the blood from the blade, then slid it back into its sheath.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The girl looked at him, but she didn't say anything. She didn't even nod.
Axel took a step toward her, careful, as if testing the air. "It's safe now," he said quietly, his voice a little gentler.
The girl didn't reply. She simply turned away from him and began to walk down the alley, slowly at first, and then faster, as if the danger had never happened. Her footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Axel standing alone in the silence, the weight of what had just transpired settling into his bones.
He didn't understand her, but then again, he didn't need to.
He had done what needed to be done. That was all that mattered.
But somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't done with him yet. That one day, she would return.