Name slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled something out, and looked straight at Dylan.
Dylan's face was still calm. Still confident.
But Name knew that face would change soon...because of him.
He stepped forward until he was just within Dylan's reach.
The people behind Dylan stiffened, their eyes narrowing, feet shifting like predators ready to pounce.
A small crowd had gathered now, whispering, watching.
And then...
To everyone's shock, Name bowed.
He dropped to his knees and raised both hands, palms open.
Coins rested in them. Not many. Just enough to mean something.
"Please forgive me, sir," he said in a quiet, controlled voice.
"I'll leave this city as soon as I can. Take these coins… as an apology."
Dylan blinked, surprised. But it didn't take long for him to recover.
He reached out, took the coins, and said in a flat voice:
"Raise your head."
Name obeyed.
The moment his face lifted...
Pain exploded through him.
Dylan's knee drove up into Name's testicle with full force.
He collapsed to the ground with a strangled sound, his vision flickering.
His mouth hung open, saliva pooling at the corner, darkness in his eyes.
He couldn't even feel his legs. Couldn't breathe right.
But he could hear.
And the words came sharp and cruel.
"You think I'm some kind of money beggar?" Dylan spat.
"I tried to help you because you were new. This is how you repay kindness?"
Someone from the crowd laughed.
"Look at his face. Looks like his mother mated with a death dog."
Another voice added:
"What else can you expect from a pig like him?"
There were more voices. More laughter. ore insult.
But Name couldn't make them out anymore. The pain was swallowing everything.
Before walking away, Dylan tossed the coins back at him...hard.
One struck Name square on the forehead.
A thin trail of blood trickled down between his eyes.
No one noticed.
Dylan's group turned and left.
The crowd began to disperse too.
Some were muttering:
"Kids these days. No respect."
"Dylan was merciful. Could've killed him."
And Name?
Still lying there. Silent. Shaking. Bleeding. Enduring.
After a while, Name felt a small hand gently touch his forehead.
He opened his eyes.
It was the little girl.
"You're bleeding," she said in a trembling voice. "It hurts, doesn't it?"
Name didn't respond.
She crouched beside him, her voice fragile but filled with hope.
"Wait just a little, okay? My mother was supposed to come a long time ago… I think she got lost.
But she'll find me. She will. She'll help you. Don't worry."
Name looked at her for a while.
He understood what happened to the girl and what was her future in cursed Luxia.
He sat up slowly, the pain still sharp in his body, but his voice was calm.
"Do you want to live?"
"Do you want to escape all this suffering?"
"Do you want to become something different than me… different than your mother?"
The girl stared at him, wide-eyed.
Name rose to his feet and turned, blood still trickling down his face.
"Then follow me."
But Name had no idea every decision he was taking wasn't his at all. He was unknowingly following the script, written by a divine creature.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a moonless night.
Dylan walked alone through a narrow alley, whistling softly.
He was in a good mood.
His destination was the station. The last train of the night would soon arrive, and as the supervisor of the porters, it was his duty to be there early.
But his happiness wasn't because of the train itself.
It was because of what was coming with it.
He had paid one of the train drivers to bring special cookies and a small toy for his daughter.
Just imagining her face...wide-eyed and joyful when she will see the toy...was enough to lift the weight of Luxia from his heart.
"Even if she has to grow up in this cursed place," Dylan murmured to himself, "I'll make her happy in every way I can."
He smiled to himself.
"Maybe one day, when I've saved enough money… I'll leave Luxia. My wife, my daughter...we'll start over somewhere better."
Dylan had it all figured out...just this once, something would go right. He'd hand over the toy, see his daughter's joy, and feel...for a fleeting moment...that he was a good father.
But plans are fragile things, fate doesn't respect preparation, and Luxia never lets a man walk too far without dragging him back.
Suddenly, something struck the back of Dylan's head.
A dull, brutal crack rang out...then silence.
Pain shot through his skull like lightning. For a split second, the world tilted sideways. His knees buckled. The whistle in his lips died mid-note. Darkness pressed in, thick and sudden, like a curtain drawn over the stage of his thoughts.
He collapsed.
The ground rushed up to meet him, cold and merciless. A sharp sting flared across his cheek as it scraped the stone. His vision spun. A metallic taste filled his mouth. His breath came in short, ragged bursts.
His body wanted to sleep.
But something wouldn't let him.
A moment passed. Or maybe a minute. Or an hour.
Then...
His eyes fluttered open.
At first, everything was blurred...shadows and shapes swimming in black water. But as his vision cleared, fear slithered into his chest.
Standing before him… was Name.
But he looked different. Not like the battered, ragged boy from before.
His presence was wrong. Otherworldly.
His black hair swayed, lifted by a breeze that didn't exist. His skin was pale, almost glowing in the darkness. And his blue eyes...
They weren't glowing, but they pierced.
Pale blue, unnervingly clear, almost colorless...like glass that had frozen over in a blizzard. There was no anger in them. No hatred.
Just silence. Cold, emotionless silence.
It wasn't a child's gaze. It was like a judgment, a curse.
Dylan tried to speak, to scream, to crawl away.
But all he could do… was stare."
In the narrow alley, time stood still for Dylan.
The blood oozing down the back of his skull felt like fire licking his spine.
"Y-You… You're the boy from yesterday…" he stammered.
Name said nothing.
"You coward! You think you're strong because you attacked me from behind?"
Dylan's voice cracked.
"Where's your dignity? Don't you have any shame? If you had faced me like a man, I'd have dropped you with one hand!"
Still no answer.
"You animal! You won't get out of Luxia alive after killing me. The people will hunt you like a dog.
If you'd only faced me head-on, I could've given you an honorable death!"
Then Name finally spoke.
His voice was quiet. Cold. Hollow of feeling.
"Honorable death, you say?
Tell me, Dylan… can you eat shame?
Does dignity keep you warm at night?
Dylan stared at him, confused. The words made no sense.
So he stayed silent.
"I've survived seventeen years in this cursed city...alone," Name continued.
"Do you think I could've done that if I clung to dignity?"
"I took only what I needed to survive.
And I threw away everything else.
Shame. Pride. Morals.
Those are luxuries only humans can afford."
He leaned closer.
"I'm not human."
"I AM A FILTHY ROACH"