Leo sank onto the dusty floor beside her, chest heaving, as though the very air had become a burden. His gaze kept flicking toward the door, a silent question hanging over him—how was he supposed to face a world that had grown cruel and unrelenting? Across from him, the girl continued to cry, each sob a fragile, shattering note in the quiet of the abandoned house. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, though the tremor in his hands betrayed the storm inside him.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice low, almost swallowed by the silence around them, "I saved you, yes… but don't expect me to do more. You… you'll have to find your own way."
His words seemed to hang uselessly in the air. The girl made no sound, only wept, letting her tears scream the words she could not form. There was a sharp edge to the sound that gnawed at him, an echo of pain he knew too well. He wanted to be irritated, to snap at her, but he didn't. He had known orphanhood. He had known loss. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, that silence and tears were sometimes the only companions left in a fractured world.
That night, they stayed together in the skeletal remains of the house, a fragile truce against the horrors of a war-strewn land. Outside, shadows prowled and whispered, yet inside, they were, for a moment, simply two souls clinging to whatever semblance of safety they could find.
When morning came, Leo awoke to find the girl slumped against him, her small body curled against the cold, hard floor. Carefully, he nudged her shoulder.
"Hey… wake up," he murmured, gentle enough to not startle her.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, hazy with sleep, and when she recognized him, it was as if the world itself had not yet registered. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and a strange tenderness softened the lines around his eyes.
"Come on," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "I'll take you somewhere… somewhere you belong."
Together, they left the fragile sanctuary of the ruin, stepping into the uncertain light of morning. Their journey was quiet, punctuated only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, until they reached a large, imposing door. Leo guided her to stand in front of it.
"Knock," he instructed, voice firm yet warm. "Then wait. Tell them your story… and they will take you in."
The girl looked at him, confusion knitting her brow, but in her chest, something stirred—hope. She knocked, timidly, and the door swung open.
A woman stood there, her face sharp with irritation. "Another one, huh? Damn it… we can't house these pests anymore," she snapped, her voice harsh and unwelcoming. Her gaze flicked to Leo, and suddenly her tone softened, almost grudgingly. "I saw the boy who brought you here… go with him."
Before the girl could speak, before she could react, the door slammed shut.
Leo stood back, watching from the shadows.The girl clutched the hem of her threadbare dress, her tiny fingers trembling as if the fabric itself could shield her from the cruel world outside. Her wide eyes were pools of fear and disbelief, darting from the door to the empty street beyond. S
Leo watched from a distance, frozen, a cold anger knotting in his chest. "Wasn't this supposed to be a shelter for children?" he muttered to himself, voice rough with disbelief. "How… how could they turn away a girl barely seven years old?"
The girl turned again, her gaze instinctively seeking him, the faint glimmer of trust she had clung to threatening to fade. In that instant, a harsh truth struck her: he had vanished. Loneliness crept into her chest like an unwelcome shadow, cold and suffocating. Her small lungs heaved as she tried to steady herself.
And then, as if summoned by her despair, a strong pair of hands lifted her into the air. It was Leo. His eyes blazed with a fierce, uncontainable anger, and his jaw clenched like iron. "How could they do this?" he spat, his gaze hard and unrelenting, fixed on the woman who had dared deny her refuge.
The girl melted into his arms, her tiny body shaking but safe at last. For the first time that day, amid the chaos and cruelty, she felt a warmth that was not fleeting—a protection she could finally rely on. She nestled closer, whispering into the safety of his chest, "You didn't leave me, did you?" Her voice trembled, but her eyes shone with a fragile, fragile hope.
Leo's expression softened, and for a moment, the hard lines of his life seemed to blur. Yet even as he held her, a tempest of thoughts raged inside him. "What do I do now?" he wondered, the question clawing at him. "Do I leave her somewhere safe… and slip away while she sleeps? Or do I carry this burden myself?" Compassion warred with survival instinct, and the weight of his choices pressed heavily upon him.
Their steps echoed in the abandoned street as they moved forward, the girl still clinging to him, her small fingers clutching his coat. Leo's attention suddenly froze on a crumbling wall, where a faded poster flapped in the cold wind. His breath caught, eyes widening in disbelief.
Impossible.
There she was. The girl's own face stared back at him from the weathered paper, innocent and small, with wide eyes that seemed to mirror his own shock. Beneath the photograph, bold letters proclaimed:
"Twenty thousand Krull for returning the child."
His heart lurched. The world had suddenly shifted beneath him, and for a brief, electrifying moment, disbelief mingled with joy. Could it really be her? Trembling, he pulled his coat tighter around the girl, shielding her from prying eyes, as if the very fabric could keep the world's greed at bay.
His pulse raced. The thought that had seemed impossible only moments before now surged with a wild, exhilarating energy. He whispered to himself, almost in disbelief, his voice thick with excitement: "Twenty thousand Krull… for this girl… Life is finally smiling at me."
And in that moment, amidst the ruin and uncertainty of a world gone mad, Leo felt a flicker of something he had almost forgotten: hope.
He raced through the deserted streets, clutching the girl tightly against him. The ruins of an abandoned house—his so-called sanctuary—loomed ahead, crumbling and silent, but for him, it was home. He collapsed into a shadowed corner, the girl still trembling in his arms. His gaze fell upon the torn poster he had ripped from the wall, the paper crumpled yet unmistakable. He scrutinized the faded photograph, ensuring, with a mix of disbelief and mounting excitement, that the girl in his arms was indeed the same one depicted on the wanted poster.
A light, almost nervous laugh escaped him, a sound foreign in the silence of the ruin. "I'm going to be rich…" he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with greed. The thought of the fortune awaiting him made his pulse quicken. "This girl… this girl is worth a fortune. I can sell her. I'll finally be wealthy."
For a moment, Leo's mind seemed stripped bare of morality. His focus narrowed to one singular thought: profit. He moved swiftly toward the place that had announced the auction, slipping into a dimly lit tavern with the stealth of a man both eager and desperate. Approaching the tavern owner, he leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I found the girl… I want to exchange her for money."
The tavern owner's face darkened, a shadow of calculation passing across his features. He exchanged a brief, knowing glance with the bartender, and moments later, the bartender came over, his expression professionally neutral yet edged with unease.
"This way, sir. We hope the exchange goes smoothly," he said, gesturing toward the staircase that led downward.
Leo followed, the girl clinging stubbornly to his leg, her small body pressed tight against him. She did not let go, not even as they descended into the cellar, the air growing colder and heavier with each step.
At the bottom, the room opened into a dim, oppressive chamber. In a corner, a fat man sat smoking a pipe, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon Leo and the girl. His gaze was predatory, cold, and measured, cutting through Leo like a blade.
"Are you sure it's her?" the man asked, his voice low and menacing.
Leo hesitated, a shiver running through him. "I… I think… yes. I think it's her," he stammered.
One of the man's assistants moved closer to the girl, and in her small, frightened voice, she whispered, "Daddy… Daddy…" The word, clumsy yet filled with desperate attachment, slipped from her lips.
Suddenly, a sharp kick knocked Leo off balance. The fat man's face twisted into a mask of fury. He grabbed Leo by the chin, his fingers digging into flesh, and hissed, "Did you bring your daughter to sell her to me?"
"No… no, I swear! I don't know her!" Leo pleaded, panic lacing his voice. But the blows rained down upon him regardless, a brutal, unyielding punishment.
Before the violence could escalate further, the bartender intervened, raising a hand. "Sir… the seal is present," he said quietly, nodding toward the girl.
The fat man's eyes glinted with a dark, greedy light as they fell upon the back of the girl's neck, where a distinctive four-star seal glowed faintly in the dim light. This mark was known to signify a pure bloodline—a lineage of extraordinary power. These girls, known as Kinner Stars, possessed abilities that surpassed even the most skilled sorcerers.
A cruel smile spread across the man's face. He had discovered a treasure beyond imagination.
The girl clung to Leo as he watched in frozen horror. Before he could intervene, the man raised a knife and made a deep cut in the girl's small hand. Blood poured into a waiting cup, rich and glimmering under the flickering light.
"Look at this," the man murmured, almost to himself, a chilling satisfaction in his tone. "You've brought me an inexhaustible fortune. This blood… it's worth millions, even billions of Krull. I will never be sick, never suffer, as long as I drink it."
His assistants moved to take the girl further into the cellar, and Leo's heart constricted with terror. "What have I done? Oh God… I've delivered her to monsters," he thought, guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. His mind spun, trying to comprehend the horror he had unleashed.
One of the assistants cast a glance toward him, a silent signal passing to the fat man. The words whispered afterward chilled him to the bone: "Get rid of him… burn the body so no one will recognize him."