"I knew I'd find you here."
Vi had been sitting on the rooftop in a daze, and the sudden voice snapped her out of it. She didn't answer.
"What? Still mad? Isn't that a bit much?"
Van strolled over with a grin, brushed some dust off the ground, and sat beside her.
Vi only shot him a glance, let out a barely audible snort, and turned her head away.
Van didn't seem to mind. He drew one leg up and shifted into a more comfortable position.
"Nice view up here."
"Mm."
This rooftop had the perfect vantage point. From here, you could see the glittering lights of the city above in the distance, while most of the Undercity spread out below. It was one of the best lookout spots around.
That was why Vi and Powder often came here when they needed to clear their heads.
"You could've had a better future than this."
"Hm?"
Van, who had been admiring the view, raised a brow and looked at Vi in confusion.
"Huh? How did this suddenly turn into being about me?"
"…Are you really planning to stay in the Lanes forever?"
"Why wouldn't I? This is my home."
Van shrugged as if the answer were obvious.
"Torvan, I'm not joking."
"I'm not joking either…"
Vi turned to face him fully and stared straight into his eyes. Van met her gaze without backing down.
"You're lying. You can't fool me."
"Heh…"
Van clicked his tongue, looked away, braced both hands behind him, and tipped his head back to look at the moon.
"Fine. Believe whatever you want."
"Everyone knows how talented you are. Even the best mechanic in the Lanes isn't as capable as you are."
"Mm-hm~"
"As much as Vander wants you to take over for him, even he keeps saying the Lanes are too small for someone like you."
"Mm-hm~"
"Even Mylo, smart as he is, can't make heads or tails of the blueprints you draw…"
"Mhm. Keep praising me. I like it."
"Torvan!"
Vi grabbed his collar and yanked him upright, dragging him out of his half-reclined sprawl.
"All right, all right…"
Van let out a helpless sigh and gently pried her hand loose.
"Sometimes taking one step forward means leaving something behind. I've got Vander, you, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, everyone in the Lanes. I'm already satisfied."
"So you really can't let this place go…"
Vi looked away and lowered her head, studying her hands, which were wrapped in bandages from wrist to knuckle. Faint traces of blood had even seeped through at the joints.
Years of throwing punches had left her hands nothing like other girls'. Instead of looking slender, they were broad and rough.
That was why people often teased her by calling them her "big fat hands." She never cared. She just made anyone who said it get a taste of her "big fat fists"… except Powder.
"Maybe… if I can really prove myself, if I can make Vander believe I can stand on my own, then maybe you won't have to stay tied to the Lanes anymore…"
"That's what this is about?"
Van raised a brow. To be honest, he was a little moved.
"And Powder too. I want her to have a better life than me. For that, I'm willing to fight for it."
"Haha. For Powder, it'd already be enough if her dopey big sister stopped causing her trouble."
"Right. I'm not as smart or sweet as those topside girls. So what?"
"Why say it like that? You jealous? Want me to spit the drink back out?"
"Jealous of who? You? Please."
Van grinned as he teased her, but all he got in return was a cold, dismissive glance.
"Come on…"
Being extra careful, Van quietly reached over and took Vi's hand, steering the conversation back where it had been.
"You don't have to think so much. Everyone's doing fine right now, and I'm fine too."
"Hah. Spare me."
Vi snorted, yanked her hand out of his, then stood and headed for the stairs.
"I'm still mad."
"Don't be like that. I'll buy you dinner. How about Jericho's place?"
"No appetite. Go by yourself."
"Tch. Your loss."
Van shrugged with a grin. He wasn't about to stand on ceremony with Vi. If she said she wasn't going, then he really would just go by himself.
Besides, he had been craving that food for a while.
With that thought, Van got to his feet. But instead of taking the stairs, he stretched a little, then leapt straight off the high rooftop platform.
...
"Jericho! Same as always. Double portion!"
"Heh-heh-heh~"
The snack-stall owner Van called Jericho was a strange-looking nonhuman, which wasn't unusual in Zaun. It was a city of immigrants, after all.
Even with everything Van had seen, though, he still couldn't tell what race Jericho belonged to.
Jericho couldn't speak human language either, but strangely enough, his meaningless grunts were easy to understand.
His knife moved fast, and his hands were even faster. That bulky frame of his wasn't just for show. A huge mirefrog was sliced up into strips and chunks in no time at all.
"Heh-heh-heh~"
It wasn't long before two large bowls of mirefrog meat were set in front of Van.
"Mm. That's the taste."
Van didn't waste time. He dug in with his hands and started stuffing meat into his mouth.
"And crack open a beer, Jericho!"
For someone like Van, who spent so much time fooling around topside—especially after seeing what passed for proper dining up there—he had gradually come to realize that a meat stall like Jericho's probably counted as dark cuisine.
He didn't care. Jericho was a good cook, the meat was cheap, and being able to eat something this filling for so little already felt like a blessing from Janna.
Van was in the middle of wolfing everything down when he suddenly noticed one of Jericho's huge fingers tapping the table in front of him.
"What is it?"
"Mm-mm~"
Jericho jerked his chin behind Van. When Van turned around, he saw a blond brat walking past with a few street punks trailing behind him.
Van remembered the kid. He didn't know his name, but among Zaun's gangs of little troublemakers, the brat seemed to be somebody.
"You sure?"
"Wala-wala~"
"Heh…"
Van let out a cold laugh. Then he inhaled the rest of the meat like a storm, grabbed the beer, and took a long, hard swig.
After that, he tipped the bottle upside down and drained the last drops.
He gripped the bottle in reverse, fished some change out of his pocket, and slapped it down on the table.
"That covers it!"
...
Bang!
The blond brat was swaggering down the street like a lion patrolling its territory when he suddenly heard the rush of wind behind his head. The next instant, something smashed into the back of his skull, and stars burst across his vision.
Grimacing, he clutched the back of his head, swaying on his feet, while the lackeys around him froze in shock at the sudden attack.
"The hell was th—"
Bang!
He had only just turned around, not even getting a clear look at who hit him, when a brutal front kick slammed into his chest. His whole body lifted off the ground and went flying, crashing into a heap of garbage.
"No wonder Vi's been in such a bad mood these past two days. So it was you running your mouth."
Van rolled his shoulders and stalked toward the blond brat, his face dark and his eyes full of menace.
"Ugh…"
The kick had drained all color from the brat's face. He writhed helplessly in the trash heap, hurting so badly he could barely move.
As Van closed in step by step, the brat's face filled with panic. He wanted to say something—apologize, beg, anything—but the pain kept the words from coming out.
"Oh? Going silent now? Trying to act cool? Then I guess you really do need another beating."
[End of chapter]