The rain followed Kai through the winding streets, tapping against his hood in a rhythm that almost drowned out the sound of his thoughts.
Almost.
"Figures," he muttered, adjusting the hood tighter around his face. "First a fight, now a shower. Blackwater really knows how to treat its loyal citizens."
The alleys here were thin and crooked, barely wide enough for two people to pass without touching. He avoided the main roads where sailors drank themselves stupid and thieves kept their eyes on anything with weight in its pocket.
"Keep walking, Kai. Eyes forward, hands ready, and nobody notices you," he told himself quietly, glancing at a shadowed doorway where two shapes lingered. He didn't stop. He never stopped unless he wanted trouble — and tonight, he'd had enough of that.
The fight at the docks still echoed in his muscles. He flexed his fingers inside his gloves, feeling the dull throb of his knuckles. "Could've gone cleaner," he murmured. "Next time, aim lower. Rib strikes slow them down without breaking the hand."
The thought earned him a quiet chuckle. "Always the helpful critic, aren't you?"
He turned down a side street, where the cobblestones were slick and weeds pushed through the cracks. The city was quieter here, the air heavier.
A lone lantern burned at the edge of Southside's forgotten quarter, its light barely clinging to life against the rain. The houses here leaned toward each other, old bones creaking under years of damp.
Kai slowed as he spotted the familiar building — peeling blue paint, warped wooden steps, shutters that rattled in the wind. Between a collapsed chapel and an abandoned smithy stood the only place in Blackwater he'd admit to remembering fondly.
He eyed the faded sign above the door.
Haven's Rest Orphanage.
"Still standing," he said under his breath. "Guess some things don't fall apart… yet."
For a second, he considered walking past. This wasn't his world anymore. But his boots carried him up the steps anyway.
The door hinges protested when he pushed them open.
Warmth hit him immediately — a mix of firelight, baked bread, and the faint mustiness of old wood. The common room was just as he remembered: mismatched chairs, shelves overflowing with battered books, and drawings pinned to the walls, some vibrant, some faded.
A group of children sat cross-legged near the hearth, staring at the woman telling them a story. Auburn hair tied back, sleeves rolled to her elbows, voice steady but warm — Lydia Hart.
Lydia Hart was the one who had found him in the gutter fifteen years ago, rain-soaked and skin clinging to bone, another nameless, starving boy in a city that didn't care how many disappeared. Most people stepped over him. Some kicked him for being in the way. But she had stopped. She'd crouched down, her coat shielding him from the downpour, and asked his name like it mattered whether or not he had one.
He hadn't answered — he'd barely been able to speak — yet she'd still taken his hand. She'd brought him through Blackwater's maze of alleys to this very building, given him a bed that didn't smell of mold, food that didn't taste like rot, and, more importantly, a reason to keep living. She hadn't tried to turn him into something he wasn't; she'd just made sure he survived long enough to choose what he wanted to be.
And for that, Kai owed her more than he'd ever say aloud.
Her eyes flicked to him, and her lips curved in a faint smile.
"Kai. You're late."
"Story of my life," he replied, pulling off his gloves and tucking them into his belt. "Don't stop on my account."
The children turned to look. One girl peeked at him from behind Lydia's skirt, wide-eyed. A boy with a whittling knife paused mid-cut, studying him like a puzzle.
"You've been in another fight." Lydia's gaze caught the faint bruise on his jaw.
Kai smirked. "I tripped. The ground hit me back."
Lydia gave him a flat look. "Uh-huh. And did the ground have friends with knives?"
He shrugged. "If it did, I won."
That drew a giggle from the children, though Mira — the girl — quickly hid again.
Lydia gestured toward the girl. "You remember Mira. Quiet. Watches everything. Can pick a lock faster than most thieves twice her age."
Kai tilted his head. "I'll keep my pockets shut, then."
"And that's Bram." She nodded at the boy with the knife. "He can climb anything. Roofs, walls, probably the ceiling if I let him."
Bram grinned. "Lydia says you used to be like me. Fast and hard to catch."
"Faster," Kai said, a spark of mischief in his tone.
Mira peeked at him again, studying his face like she could read what he wasn't saying. He gave her the smallest nod, and she vanished behind Lydia once more.
He didn't sit. He never stayed long — lingering here felt dangerous, like touching something too fragile. But Haven's Rest was one of the few places in Blackwater where his guard dipped, even if just an inch.
From his coat, he pulled a small pouch and set it on the table. The coins inside clinked, drawing the children's attention.
"For food," he said simply.
Lydia frowned. "Kai—"
"I know," he cut her off. "You don't need it. But take it anyway."
Her lips softened into a reluctant smile. "You're stubborn."
"So I've been told."
Kai stepped out into the rain again, pulling his hood low. Haven's Rest faded behind him, swallowed by the night.
The streets were quieter now, though in Blackwater, quiet never meant safe. He moved fast, cutting through side alleys until he reached the tannery — a squat, foul-smelling building whose upper floor he rented for next to nothing.
The room upstairs was barely wider than the bed it held. A small desk sat under a cracked window, littered with scrap paper and a dull lamp.
Kai shut the door, locked it, and sat down at the desk.
From his coat, he pulled out five cards — his spoils from the fight at the docks. He laid them out carefully, their glossy surfaces catching the lamplight.
1. Rustfang Hyena [Common] – A scavenger beast with razor teeth.
2. Smoke Viper [Uncommon] – Venomous, and can hide in shadows.
3. Iron Carapace Shield [Common] – A defensive equipment card.
4. Snapblade Throw [Common] – A quick, short-range attack card.
5. Black Joker [?] – No classification. No description. Just a swirling, depthless black etched with a faint silver outline.
Kai's eyes lingered on the Joker. It didn't belong — in design, in feel, in weight.
The air in the room shifted.
Before he could look away, a faint glow bled from the card's surface, threading like veins of light across the desk. The glow reached his fingertips—
[Binding Detected.]
Kai's muscles locked. His breath hitched.
[Host Confirmed: Kai Miller.]
[Initializing "Infinite Draw" Protocol…]
[System Binding in Progress.]
The cards on the desk lifted into the air, spinning slowly. The Joker floated higher than the rest, its black surface now pulling at the lamplight like it was swallowing it.
[Deck Core Found: Null Grade.]
[Error… Deck Core forcibly upgraded to "Joker Core".]
The glow intensified. The desk rattled. Every card slammed down at once — except the Joker, which settled neatly into Kai's palm.
And in his mind, a voice that wasn't his own whispered:
> Let's play a game<