The basement of the Last Drop.
This had once been Vi and Powder's room, but now it belonged to someone else.
Van sat on what had once been Vi's bed, a plate in his hands, chewing his breakfast slowly.
It was nothing fancy. Just a plate of overboiled mashed potatoes, scooped up with black bread.
His wounds had not been bandaged. Under the effects of the compound tonic, he looked a little rough on the outside, but in truth, none of it was serious anymore.
Van had not slept a wink. After spending the whole night getting acquainted with several warmhearted local bosses, he was exhausted enough to nearly fall asleep halfway through breakfast.
But Ekko was still too young, and he was still clumsy with the work at the tavern. Van figured that, for a strong young man like himself, going without sleep for one night should not be a problem.
He set his half-finished breakfast on the small table beside the bed, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a brief rest.
A little while later, he rolled over and reached beneath the pillow, pulling out a well-preserved letter.
When Van first found it, it had only been a loose sheet of paper. Later, he had put it into a better-quality envelope.
It was a letter Vi had left behind.
His name was written on it as the recipient.
To be precise, it was a farewell letter.
From the crooked, clumsy handwriting, Van could tell roughly when she had written it: when she had prepared to sacrifice herself, hand herself over to the Enforcers, and buy everyone else's safety.
Vi had never been especially educated. She did not know many words, and she certainly did not have any elegant turns of phrase. In several places, whole sections had been scratched out and rewritten.
It looked as if she had written something embarrassingly soft, then decided she did not have the nerve to let Van see it plainly.
The words in the letter were awkward, but sincere.
Van could almost picture the expression on her face while she wrote it.
Probably stiff with embarrassment, trying to act braver than she really felt.
That thought brought a trace of warmth to his tired face.
After a long while, Van let out a quiet sigh, folded the letter back along its original creases, slid it into the envelope again, rubbed his eyes, and tucked it beneath the pillow.
He had already heard footsteps approaching.
"Van?"
Ekko poked his head in through the doorway.
"You're back?"
"Yeah. Been back since early morning. Nothing major."
Van picked up the plate again and tore into the black bread with renewed appetite.
"You're hurt?!"
Only after getting closer did Ekko notice the bloodstains on him. Van had rinsed himself off as soon as he got back, but some of the not-quite-healed cuts were still seeping.
"I'm fine."
"It really doesn't look that way. Why does Silco always send you to do the dirtiest jobs?"
Ekko muttered unhappily. He had already spotted the clothes Van had just changed out of, tossed carelessly into the corner and still stained with blood.
"Your giant axe was shining like new, so I thought maybe nothing had happened."
"At least the payoff was worth it."
Van pulled a bottle of liquor from under the bed and washed down the food in his mouth. The rough black bread and mashed potatoes were far too dry on their own.
He had only been drinking for a month or so, but alcohol had already become an inseparable part of his daily life.
"You should get some proper rest."
"No. I'm not leaving the tavern entirely in your hands. Not yet."
"Don't say it like that. I could handle it myself just fine."
"Sure. I believe you'll get there sooner or later. You just need a little more time."
Van stood, pulled on his coat, and headed up out of the basement.
"I've got a feeling this place will end up in your hands one day. Don't rush it."
"That kind of line only works on little kids."
"Does it?"
Ekko followed after him, still grumbling the whole way.
"Then just close up for the day. It's only one day."
"Fair enough. But I still can't rest."
"Huh? What are you going to do now?"
Van stopped at the bar, where the cast-iron battle axe still sat exactly where he had tossed it.
He grabbed the haft with one hand, heaved it up with ease, and settled the enormous weight across his shoulder.
"It's time the sewer rats learned who really runs this block."
...
...
Inside a beautifully decorated little room, Silco was deeply focused on the work in front of him.
His fingers moved with surprising delicacy through strands of blue hair, weaving them into neat, careful braids one section at a time.
"You were gone all night."
"I was busy."
"Oh..."
Powder sat there with her head lowered, letting Silco work on her hair while she stared at Blitz in her hands.
By now, the little device was covered all over in graffiti—her work from the last several days. But compared to before, the colors and lines looked noticeably messier, more chaotic.
"I'm scared."
"What is it? Another nightmare?"
"Mm."
Powder turned toward him, her big blue eyes already full of tears.
"I dreamed about Vi... and Mylo, and Claggor... they..."
She shook her head hard, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears slipped down her cheeks.
"It's all right, Jinx."
Silco had no choice but to stop braiding her hair and pull her gently into his arms.
"Don't let the dead hold power over you."
"If they... if they'll never forgive me..."
"You don't need anyone's forgiveness. You're perfect."
"I... I just miss them..."
Silco held her tightly, feeling the trembling of her small body as she cried, and feeling his neatly arranged shirt gradually dampen under her tears.
A rare expression of helplessness crossed his face.
Even his breathing softened. He lifted a hand and patted her back gently, soothing her with an awkward kind of care.
At last, Powder's sobbing began to quiet, though her body still shuddered now and then.
And every time it did, Silco felt as if his own heart skipped a beat.
"Torvan... would you want to see him?"
The little girl in his arms went rigid.
Then she lifted her head, her eyes swollen and wet with tears.
"Van? He... he's alive?!"
"He is. And he wants to see you very much, Jinx."
Powder's already reddened eyes trembled.
Then suddenly she shoved Silco away, clutched her head in both hands, and curled up tightly into herself.
"It wasn't me! I just made a mistake... they'll never forgive me..."
Silco reached out and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"It's all right," he said in that low, steady voice of his. "You still have me."
[End of chapter]