Here is the American English translation:
The water that ran, warm and gently, over Neale's body carried away the soot, the mud, and the filth of days of desperate flight down the drain. It was relaxing to the point of feeling like it opened the doors to a new world. It even seemed to wash his thoughts and the sadness that covered him. The white strands in his hair returned, standing in sharp contrast to the black, yet at the same time they seemed to blend gently with the dark locks—but he didn't care, and maybe he didn't even notice. What mattered was that, for the first time since everything he had been through, the wounds and bruises on his skin were clean.
He put on his new clothes: the gray long-sleeved shirt with the open collar, the black sweatpants with red side stripes, and his boots. They weren't flashy, but that made them a good and effective disguise. His mother's overcoat was folded carefully again and put back into his backpack, which he left leaning against the bathroom door.
The fragility that the brief feeling of safety gave him hit him full force. Everything seemed calm and, in some strange way, in the right place, but with every moment of rest that passed between the seconds marked on the clock, as he stood in front of the mirror he remembered their faces, the tears, the screams, and the blood that had spilled across the floor. Five days until the convoy reached Valerium. They must be only a few kilometers from the steel bridge.
The smell of home-cooked food filled the rooms of Mr. Elias's house, bringing with it a comforting feeling so good it was almost painful. Elias was a big-hearted man, sitting in the improvised dining room, finishing heating up a few portions of the meal he would serve the children. Maria, the shy daughter, was now also coming out of her bath; she walked as if she were hiding in the shadows of her own house, but even so she didn't refuse Elias's invitation to sit at the table.
"Come and sit too, Neale," Elias said with a fatherly smile. "Eat while it's hot, so you'll have energy when the sun rises."
Maria stared at the white strands in Neale's hair, noticing that they hadn't been there before, but no one commented on it.
Neale ate, the simple but nutritious stew bringing a strange strength to his tired muscles. The humanity and presence of Elias and Maria weighed heavily on his conscience. He had no way to repay all that kindness; he felt like he was intruding on something that belonged to the two of them.
"You seem like a good boy, Neale," Elias said, the only one to speak openly at the table, as if his life were an open book. "I can see great kindness in your eyes. Many people in this city don't have that light you have, young man. How did a boy like you end up wandering alone in a city like Valerium?"
"I… I'm grateful to you, sir. Truly, everything is very good," Neale replied, keeping his guard up. "Valerium is just a stretch of the road for me."
Elias fixed his eyes on Neale attentively. "And where do you intend to go, young man, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Valerium is like my passage to Kirden." As soon as Neale finished speaking, it was as if for a brief instant Maria showed interest in something that wasn't her plate—her eyes seemed to vibrate with restrained excitement.
Elias's smile faded. "Kirden, huh. The city known for forging the best warriors to fight the absolute races. But it's also known for accepting people with talent for the Justa Ira. Boy, do you have that talent or not?" Maria seemed a little restless, but she had the focus of a beast going out to hunt; there, she was the one most caught up in the conversation even without saying a word.
Neale lowered his eyes as their light seemed to get lost somewhere inside himself and turn dull, his hands tightening around the spoon. "I… I don't know. I haven't awakened anything yet. I'm still a 'colorless.'"
"Listen, young man, you don't have to go. Why risk the dangers of death? If the road to Kirden doesn't kill you, maybe Kirden will—either in the trials or in the war. I don't wish that on you, my boy. If you want, you can stay here. Stay and help me with the scrap, live with us. Valerium may be dangerous, but it's still better than dying on a battlefield, being trampled and forgotten."
"I… I can't… I swore," Neale whispered, his voice tense. "I have to go," he said firmly, while Maria seemed to want to say something but remained silent.
"But it will still take me a little while. I need to find a map. I don't know whether the information I have is outdated or not, so I'll still help you if I can," Neale finished, clenching his fists, his shoulders heavy.
Elias paused, took a breath, and then let out a long sigh. He stood up and left Neale and Maria alone in the kitchen, then soon returned with an old piece of cloth that looked worn, which he unfolded very carefully. It was a detailed map of the terrain around Valerium, of secondary routes Neale didn't have, blind spots, and possibly a wide, open area without many trees, where mercenaries might hide to stay away from everything, since according to the map it seemed quite abandoned: an open field that looked to be about two kilometers across and lay before the old steel bridge.
Neale looked at the map, memorizing the parts he considered most important and mentally fitting them together with the map he had already memorized, now with new pieces—turning his knowledge into his weapon.
He stared at the map for a long time until he ended up dozing off in the kitchen. Dinner had ended in silence; Elias and Maria had gone to sleep. While the silence of the early morning still lasted, Neale woke after a while, noticing both the quiet and the pain from the terrible posture in which he had dozed off. He also noticed a light blanket over his shoulders. He stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and after straightening the blanket, left it on the table.
He didn't have much. How would he thank Elias for the hospitality? The beast coin was his most valuable item. He left it on the table, beside a simple note written on a torn piece of paper from his diary of stained pages: Thank you for your humanity and hospitality to me. Neale.
He left silently through the door. The sky was brightening on the horizon, but it was cloudy, as if the sky were complaining along with Valerium.
As he moved away from the house, Neale felt that icy discomfort on his skin again. It was as if death were grabbing him by the heels and pulling him toward a point of no return, deep and empty—it was much stronger than before. He hid behind a nearby post while looking around, searching for the source of the discomfort.
There he was: the short man in a black hooded cloak. Neale couldn't see his face, his silhouette mixed with the morning mist, two hours before dawn. He seemed to be looking for something while watching a building near Elias's house. The mercenary didn't seem to be hunting Neale this time. He was likely monitoring the area for information about where the convoy would stop in the city of Valerium. And for some reason he stopped in front of Elias's house, drawing something sharp from his waist beneath the black cloak.
For a moment, cold sweat ran down Neale's back. He couldn't leave and abandon that threat at the door of Mr. Elias and his daughter.
Neale grabbed the first thing he saw on the ground and threw it with all his strength and speed toward the threat. When it hit, Neale didn't fight him. As soon as the threat looked at Neale, both of them ran. The short man chased Neale with a long knife in his hand. Neale needed to draw him away from Elias's house.
Neale ran through dark alleys, dodging crates and people, jumping onto buildings and running through some larger ones, using the new information about the terrain he had gotten from Elias's map. Now there were four days left until the arrival of the V-zero, and the game of cat and mouse was beginning. Neale started as the mouse, fleeing from his pursuer.