While the group laughed and joked around the fire, Ethan kept to himself in a corner, quietly eating his meal. A hot soup made from vegetables and chunks of meat—something he had never tasted before. Compared to the cold leftovers Wayla used to toss his way like a dog, this was a feast.
Suddenly, Olmo walked over and sat beside him. The veteran spoke casually, "Let me guess—you feel like outsider, eh?"
Ethan looked up and replied bluntly, "I don't feel like an outsider. I am an outsider."
Olmo let out an awkward chuckle. "Is fair enough. I just thought—maybe I try cheer you up, da?"
He shrugged and added, "Don't worry, eh? We maybe criminals, da—but we don't hurt kids. We got pride… and principles, still."
Ethan said nothing. He kept watching the others from the corner of his eye. He didn't trust them—yet—but he wasn't sure if that even mattered to Olmo.
Then, curiosity got the better of him. He'd heard the others talk about the city with such excitement, and it made him wonder.
"What's the city like?" he asked. "I've never been to one. The way they talk about it makes me curious."
Olmo nodded. "Is fair question. Kid like you—should be curious, da. And that dump you come from… eh, no one should grow up in place like that."
He took a breath and started, "City is big place—high stone walls all around, guards walking streets. Safer than village, usually. But that… that's not why guys are excited, eh."
He chuckled. "What really gets them going? Is the facilities—bars, inns, markets… and, of course, red light district, eh."
Ethan tilted his head. "Red light district? What's that?"
Olmo blinked, just now remembering he was talking to a ten-year-old. He coughed awkwardly. "Ah… you too young to know about that, da. Let's skip it, eh?"
But Ethan pressed on. "I've seen and heard things no kid should. You might as well just tell me."
Olmo sighed, resigning himself. "Alright, fine. Is place where people go, spend money… for fun, you know?"
"What kind of fun?"
Olmo squinted at him. "Kid, read the room, eh? You don't see—I'm uncomfortable talking about this with you?"
Ethan glanced around, confused. "What room? We're outside."
Olmo stared at him dumbfounded. "Is figure of speech, kid. You gonna make me regret sitting here, da."
He thought to himself, This kid—sharp, da, but got social awareness of brick wall. No clue at all.
It was true. Ethan was stubborn and quick-witted when it came to survival. His creativity, his instincts—they were all born from necessity. But when it came to social interaction, he was still a novice. He didn't mind, though. He knew he'd learn eventually.
Olmo was still trying to form his next sentence when Jenkins suddenly threw an arm around his shoulder, a half-empty bottle of beer in his other hand.
"What are you guys talkin' about over here, huh? Come on! Share it with the rest of us!"
The crowd heard him and screamed. "YEAHHHH!"
"HEY, EVERYONE!" Jenkins shouted, grinning like a fool. "I FORGOT TO INTRODUCE OUR NEWEST RECRUIT! I BET IN A FEW YEARS THIS KID'S GONNA BE A BIG SHOT IN THE BLACK SCIMITAR!"
Ethan flinched as Jenkins lifted him effortlessly and set him on top of a crate in front of the crowd.
"Come on, Ethan! Introduce yourself to your future brothers!"
It was the first time Ethan had felt so many eyes on him. He froze. Ever since he could remember, he'd been invisible—a shadow. The only time people looked at him was when he was getting beaten by Stanley after another failed escape attempt.
He stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.
One of the men stepped forward and laughed. "Hahaha! Look at this cute one; he doesn't even know how to introduce himself! Here—just follow my lead, kid. Bow a little and say: 'Hello everyone, then say your name. I'll be in your care from now on.' Got it?"
Ethan nodded, took a deep breath, and repeated the line almost mechanically, "Hello everyone, my name is Ethan. I'll be in your care from now on."
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
"HAHAHA! SEE? NOT THAT HARD, RIGHT? BURP!"
Ethan turned to Jenkins who was smiling, then glanced back at Olmo, who was also nodding in approval.
Just then, Ethan remembered something and turned to Jenkins. "By the way, Olmo told me about something I didn't get."
Jenkins tilted his head, curious. "What is it?"
"What's a red light district?"
The camp fell dead silent for a beat—then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"COME HERE, KID! LET ME TELL YOU WHAT IT IS!" one of the men shouted as he and a few others grabbed Ethan and sat him down in the middle of the group.
They crossed their legs and leaned in, faces lit with mischief.
"Okay kid," one of them began with a grandiose tone, "Imagine you're a lonely man like us. We travel all the time, move from one dump to another, just trying to survive."
He paused dramatically. The others mimed wiping away tears.
"You get tired, your body weary… you crave comfort, something to lift your spirits, yeah?"
Ethan nodded.
"That's when the red light district comes in—a magical place where we find joy, peace, and... companionship."
Ethan squinted. "Can you just get to the point? And stop with the hand-waving. You look like a clown."
The crowd laughed again, and the man clicked his tongue, but continued.
"The thing all men want, kid… is women! That's right! In the red light district, women sell their services. They comfort us. Help us relax. Make us feel… warm and fuzzy inside." He clasped his hands to his chest and made a mock dreamy expression.
But Ethan's expression soured. The moment they said women, the only image that came to his mind was Wayla's face. Twisted in a drunken sneer, entangled with Stanley in one of the worst memories of his childhood.
He physically shuddered and looked away, no longer interested in the conversation.
The night wore on. One by one, the men dozed off under the stars, leaving the camp quiet. For the first time, Ethan lay down not in fear, but in an unfamiliar sense of peace.
A small warmth flickered in his chest.
Maybe, he thought, I really can start living like this.