Chapter 8 – The Slums (Part 1)
The sparring session stretched on for a while, each clash sharpening Jack's instincts, forcing him to adapt and refine his movements. By the end, his body felt lighter, less restrained, as though the lingering rust from years of inactivity had finally begun to flake away. Lidia's guidance had been invaluable. Her sharp eyes never missed a mistake, and her corrections were delivered with precision, sometimes even teaching him entirely new techniques he had never encountered before.
It was almost unheard of that someone as young as Lidia would have so much experience and technique.
'Hm, there wasn't much mentioned about her in the book... I wonder what her past is like.'
Jack can't recall anything beyond the time when they left the Ashenblood region, so it wa,s in a sense, a mysterious woman who stood before him at that moment.
When they finally stopped, Jack's muscles ached, but it was the satisfying burn of progress. He walked out of the training room, his chest rising and falling steadily, sweat dampening his skin. The shower was the natural next step, and Lidia trailed behind him like she always did.
The two stepped into the bathroom, where the spacious tub steamed invitingly. Without hesitation, they undressed and slid into the hot water, the warmth seeping into their tired limbs.
"Let me wash your back, young master," Lidia said with a sweet smile, settling onto his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Jack gave a small hum in response before moving out of the tub and sitting down on the stool nearby. Lidia positioned herself behind him, her hands dipping into the water before gliding smoothly across his back. Her touch was gentle, deliberate, moving in slow strokes that soothed his worn muscles.
But soon, Jack became aware of another sensation—two soft, warm forms pressing lightly against his back, moving in rhythm with her hands. The contact was impossible to ignore.
"Do you like what you're feeling?~" she whispered playfully into his ear, her breath warm against his skin as her arms slid around his neck.
Jack exhaled, steadying himself. "Lidia, not now…"
His tone carried restraint, even as his body betrayed how difficult it was to resist.
"What could be more important than me, young master?" she teased, her tongue slipping into his ear, tracing its shape in a slow, sensual motion.
He gritted his teeth. Even with his past as a seasoned assassin, known for his iron will and composure under the most brutal circumstances, resisting this divine woman was a battle in itself. Every instinct screamed to give in, but his mind held firm.
"It's not about priorities…" he managed, his voice low and even. "I have something urgent to take care of."
The moment she heard that, Lidia stopped, her playful smile vanishing. "Urgent? Is something wrong?"
Jack shook his head. "No. Just something I have to do before returning to school tomorrow." His thoughts, however, whispered the truth. I need to visit that place. It can't wait.
Lidia's lips curved into a pout. "Even today? Our last free day together before you get busy again?"
Her sulky tone made Jack glance back at her. "So you're going to miss me, huh?"
"Of course," she answered without hesitation. "I always miss the young master—even when you're right here beside me. Especially when your body tells me exactly what it wants."
Her gaze dropped to the obvious bulge that had been demanding her attention the entire time. She licked her lips slowly, as if savoring the thought.
Jack pressed a hand to her forehead and gently pushed her face away. "Not now. I said stop being naughty."
"Tsk…" She clicked her tongue, displeased. "Fine, fine. I won't do anything now. But…" Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned closer. "When you come back, you'd better give me what I want."
Jack looked at her over his shoulder, his lips curving into a small, knowing smirk. "Are you sure about that?"
The weight of his voice, calm yet deep, sent heat rushing to her cheeks. Lidia lowered her gaze, her blush vivid. "Yes…" she whispered.
His laughter rang warmly through the room. "Haha… Then let's hope things go well."
They lingered in the bath for a little longer before finally climbing out, drying off, and dressing. Jack opted for something simple—a pair of jeans and a hoodie, unremarkable in design. But on him, nothing looked ordinary. His striking features, tall frame, and effortless presence drew attention no matter what he wore.
He was the kind of man who stood out simply by existing, and he knew it. The admiring looks of strangers only fed his already large ego, something he never bothered to hide.
"You look dashing, young master!" Lidia called out cheerfully as she ran a towel through her damp hair.
Jack slipped his watch onto his wrist and glanced at her. "I'll be out for a few hours. Have lunch without me."
"Absolutely not," she declared instantly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I only eat with you, young master. Always."
He blinked, then smiled faintly. That was Lidia—unyielding in her devotion, always by his side. For years, she had walked through every hardship with him, never once wavering. He could never ask for someone more loyal.
"She'll always be like this," he thought quietly as he shook his head and left the apartment.
Descending to the ground floor, Jack was greeted by staff and guards alike. Each person acknowledged him with respect, a reflection of the influence he held as the owner of the city's most prestigious penthouse. He offered them polite nods before stepping outside into the vibrant pulse of the city.
York Wood stretched out around him—a metropolis that mirrored the New York of his old world, yet magnified on every scale. Towers reached higher, streets stretched farther, and the endless tide of people surged through it like blood through veins.
This world, Reveil, was far larger than Earth, its human population nearly tenfold. Human territories expanded across vast regions, and the cities reflected that scale—grand, crowded, and alive with relentless motion.
Jack scanned the busy streets before lifting a hand to hail a taxi. "Take me to the outskirts," he instructed once inside.
The cab sped off, and with every passing minute, the scenery shifted. The polished heart of York Wood faded into the background, replaced by aging buildings and cracked pavement. The gleaming cars thinned out, and the pedestrians' clothes grew duller, cheaper.
By the time the car rolled to a stop, the transformation was complete. The neighborhood was a husk of decay—old, crumbling buildings with shattered windows, alleys filled with refuse, and faces etched with misery. The air itself was heavy, foul, oppressive.
Jack paid the driver, who eyed him nervously. "Are you sure you want to stop here, sir? This place… It's dangerous."
Jack stepped out, shutting the door behind him without hesitation. "I'll be fine. Go."
The driver lingered only a moment longer before shaking his head and pulling away. "That boy… I hope he doesn't get himself killed."
"Cough… cough… ptuh!"
"Give me that cigarette."
"Shut up and leave me alone."
The voices of the slums filled Jack's ears as he walked deeper into the broken streets. Everywhere he looked, he saw hunger, despair, and bitterness carved into faces too young to wear such expressions.
Not long ago, he had been one of them—a poor, hopeless boy staring at a future that promised nothing. For a moment, he saw his younger self in their hollow eyes. But instead of sympathy, what he felt was contempt. Endless contempt.
To him, they weren't victims. They were weak. People without the will to change, without the drive to claw their way out of the filth. That, Jack loathed above all else.
The hopeless remained hopeless because they chose to. And for that, he despised them. After all, as cruel as this world was, it had one key flaw to it... It isn't relentless enough to stop someone if they truly keep trying and never give up. Sooner or later, things would shape the way one would want them. It was simply a matter of who was courageous enough to bear the consequences and the risk.
His sharp gaze swept across the onlookers, and soon enough, he felt their eyes on him in return. The clean lines of his clothes, the watch on his wrist, the chain around his neck—they stood out like beacons here. Desire gleamed in their eyes, raw and hungry.
Whispers spread through the alleys. Plans formed behind narrowed stares.
Jack's lips curled faintly. He knew exactly what they were thinking about.
'I doubt that's a good idea for you.'