It's been a week since that pillar of light finally stopped.
No explosions.
No screams.
No end-of-the-world nonsense.
Just… gone.
I sat lazily outside the clinic, leaned back in a creaky chair with another chair propped under my legs like I owned the place. Beside me was a small circular table, and on top of it.
An open pizza box.
A real one.
Greasy. Messy. Beautiful.
"God damn," I muttered, grabbing another slice. "Didn't know life could be like this instead of nonstop contracts."
I chewed slowly, eyes half-lidded, watching The City do its thing. People walked by. Cars passed. Some sketchy-looking folks eyed me, then decided I wasn't worth the trouble.
Smart choice.
"Man… nine months," I chuckled, leaning my head back. "Nine fucking months and I'm already here."
Grade 4. A clinic office. Pizza money.
Not bad for a guy who started out rummaging through trash cans.
"I still remember that time I had to fight a rabid dog with brass knuckles," I said aloud, smiling.
"That thing almost bit my face off."
I shook my head, laughing quietly.
Time really did fly.
Even with all the blood, close calls, and nonsense… I couldn't deny it.
This was peaceful.
No alarms.
No contracts screaming for attention.
No syndicates trying to jump me in alleys.
Just me, a chair, and a pizza that definitely took years off my lifespan.
"…I kinda wanna keep living like this," I murmured.
The breeze was nice. The sun wasn't trying to kill me. My body relaxed before I even noticed.
My eyes slowly closed.
"…Oh yeah."
I cracked one eye open.
"Those cigarettes from back then?" I muttered. "Yeah, they got absolutely destroyed."
Turns out forgetting them in your pocket before washing clothes is a bad idea.
"Haa…" I sighed. "Should I tell Nannie to get me another gun?"
"Another gun?"
I nearly fell out of my chair.
I snapped my head toward the clinic entrance.
"No way," Nannie snapped, eyes twitching. "That little gun of yours cost me six million Ahn. Not counting ammo. Ammo alone was three million."
He looked like he aged five years mid-sentence.
"And you want another one?"
"Chill, chill," I raised my hands. "Hypothetically speaking if I became a Grade 1, could I get another gun?"
He stared at me.
Cold.
Judging.
Deeply tired.
Then he sighed.
"Sure," he said flatly. "If you somehow become a Color Fixer, I'll buy you whatever you want."
He turned around and went back inside.
"…Nice," I muttered, laying back again.
"Guess I gotta become a legend now."
I stared up at the sky, relaxed, chewing slowly on my pizza.
"Life's pretty good right now."
The City hummed quietly around me.
Nothing bad happening.
…Hopefully it stays that way.
Yeah.
Hopefully.