Elsewhere in the city, the masked boy left the clothing shop with the girl following, carrying several full bags. Her new clothes were plain, somewhat shabby, but far better than what most people in the Lower District wore.
He had deliberately avoided buying her higher quality clothes. Not because they weren't available there were plenty almost on par with Middle District quality but because fine clothes drew attention here. They'd attract thieves, or worse. For an ordinary resident of the Lower District, that wasn't a major threat, but unfortunately, this girl wasn't ordinary.
He was walking in silence when he noticed she was no longer behind him. Turning, he saw she had dropped the bags and crouched, playing with a small gray cat that was trying to wriggle free from her tiny hands.
The masked boy sighed, walked over, picked up the bags, and stood beside her. She lifted the cat in her hands and asked:
"What is this thing?"
He answered flatly:
"A cat."
"A cat? Can I keep it?"
"No."
Her face fell. The masked boy paused, then, after a moment, said resignedly:
"You can keep it."
In an instant, her frown turned to a wide smile. She hugged the cat to her chest tenderly while the masked boy walked on without comment.
They wandered through the market, weaving among the crowded alleys. As the sun began to set and its light slowly faded, the masked boy finished buying supplies and treated the girl to warm bread and grilled meat from the stalls.
Then they left the market. After a while, they reached the edge of the Eighth District. The masked boy stopped before an abandoned housing complex, pushed the door open, and stepped into the dark corridor.
"What is this place?" the girl asked.
"My home," he replied without turning.
"You live in this whole place alone?"
"Yes."
He stopped at one apartment, gently pushed the door open. The room was nearly empty, but clean. He said as he entered:
"You can stay here. I'll be next door."
He set the bags down by the wall, then turned to leave. But as he opened the door, he felt a tug on his coat sleeve. The girl had grasped it lightly, looking up at him hesitantly. She spoke in a quiet, stammering voice:
"Um… Mister Masked… may I ask something?"
He turned to her, his eyes steady behind the mask.
"Go ahead."
"Why are you doing all this for me? Why help me?"
A faint smile curved beneath the mask as he answered:
"Curiosity. Boredom. Maybe a hidden urge to save some wretch. Who knows?"
Then he left, closing the door softly behind him, and headed to his own apartment. The moment he entered, he removed the mask, set it on the table, and collapsed onto the bed.
At that moment, a transparent figure of a man with indistinct features appeared on the floor beside the bed.
The masked boy turned toward him and said:
"You owe me. I spent nearly all my money on that girl."
"And do you know how many times I've saved your life?"
He clapped lightly before replying:
"Yet you never gave me a single coin, Mister Ghost."
The ghost fell silent, his gaze shifting to the mask on the table. Then he said seriously:
"Haven't I told you to cut down on using that mask?"
"Sorry, not my fault half the city's after my head."
"If you'd listened to me instead of charging recklessly at gangs, this wouldn't have happened."
"What did you expect me to do? Watch all the slavers in the Lower District and wait for that supplier to fall into my lap?"
"That's better than chasing unverified leads."
"You exaggerate. We came out without real damage. And we got a map of the other labs."
"And as a result, your body's a wreck."
The masked boy raised his arm, rolling his shoulder stiffly.
"A minor detail. Anyway, why did you ask me to help that girl? I didn't think you had such a soft heart."
The ghost's voice carried a tinge of sorrow:
"I have many debts I never repaid."
"And you think you'll repay them by helping some random girl?"
The ghost didn't reply. He simply faded away, vanishing as quietly as he had appeared. The masked man stared at the mask on the table for a long moment, then closed his eyes.