Levi still remembered the day his mother died.
Starving and weak, he might not have survived—if not for the half loaf of bread Adrian had placed into his hands.
Adrian didn't just feed him. He cared for Levi in the year that followed, and even arranged for his mother's burial. That kindness was etched into Levi's heart.
That was why he refused to leave with Kenny Ackerman, the uncle who had suddenly appeared after his mother's death. Kenny had never been there when it mattered. He was a stranger with the same bloodline.
Adrian was different.
With him, Levi felt something he had thought impossible in this cruel world—warmth. A fragile, precious sense of family. In Adrian, he had found someone he could rely on.
…
Back in his small room, Adrian began to plan his next steps.
Food was running low. If he didn't act soon, they would face real starvation.
The only reason he had lasted this long was because of the small savings his mother had left behind before she passed. For a frail child in the Underground, that inheritance had been his lifeline.
But now, it was almost gone.
Adrian opened the hidden compartment in the wall and retrieved a small wooden box. Inside lay a handful of dull, worn coins.
"Ten steel coins left," he muttered.
Each steel coin was worth enough wheat to feed a family of four for a day. To Adrian, these ten coins were survival itself.
But how should he use them? Spend them all for a short reprieve, or gamble them to create something greater?
He thought for a long moment. Then his eyes sharpened.
Maybe I can turn this into something more… start a small trade.
Now that he had the system, and real strength in his body, he could risk more.
"I'll go out for a while," Adrian said as he slung a bag over his shoulder. "Stay home, don't run around."
Levi quickly intercepted him, pressing something into his hand.
"Big brother, take this."
It was a dagger—small, but sharp.
The Underground was dangerous. Adrian never left without it, but this time, in his excitement, he had forgotten.
Adrian accepted it with a smile and a nod. Then, without another word, he vanished into the shadows of the alleyway.
He moved swiftly, his steps light and sure. Years in the Underground had sharpened his senses. Even blindfolded, he could navigate its twisting tunnels as if walking on a familiar street.
Halfway there, he felt something snap beneath his foot.
He stopped, looked down, and sighed. His shoe had split open, the sole peeling away.
No surprise. These shoes had been patched again and again by his late mother. It was a miracle they had lasted this long.
Without hesitation, Adrian pulled them off, tied them around his waist, and continued barefoot. The cold stone bit at his feet, but he didn't slow.
At last, he arrived at a weathered storefront. A faded sign read: Akers' Food Shop.
"Old man Akers. Two sacks of hulled wheat," Adrian called out, catching his breath.
The shop's bald, bearded owner appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowing. "Two sacks? Boy, are you sure?"
Adrian scanned the street. Empty. Quiet. He pressed the ten steel coins into Akers' calloused palm.
"Two sacks. Old rules."
Akers weighed the coins, then gave a small grunt. He didn't ask questions. He never did.
In the Underground, money spoke louder than anything else.
He waved, and a shop assistant brought out the wheat, hefting the sacks onto his shoulder and following Adrian back toward his home.
The neighbors watched from a distance, whispering. Everyone believed Adrian had a distant relative—Akers—who provided him food each month.
That rumor had been Adrian's own invention. In a place where children with food were prey, he needed the illusion of a backer to survive.
Akers himself watched Adrian go, thoughtful.
"Is that kid really just a child?" he murmured.
He had once considered taking advantage of Adrian. But the day he saw Kenny Ackerman step into Adrian's home, he abandoned the idea entirely.
He couldn't afford to cross a man like that. Not for a handful of steel coins.
Besides, there was something strange about Adrian. Despite his age, he carried himself like an adult—calm, calculating, steady.
That look had left a deep impression on Akers. He didn't dare underestimate him.
…
Three days later.
The small room was filled with a thick, sweet fragrance. Steam curled in the air, clinging to the walls.
Levi crouched by the low table, watching Adrian intently as he worked.
"Big brother… can you really make candy out of this?" Levi asked, his voice full of disbelief.
Adrian stirred the pot steadily, the mixture bubbling under the heat.
Ever since he had dragged home two whole sacks of wheat, Levi had wondered what he was up to. Using precious food like this seemed reckless—wasteful.
But Levi didn't stop him. Adrian had surprised him too many times before.
So he simply watched, curiosity burning in his young eyes.