The rain had eased to a whisper, a thin fog curling between the lamps.
Ren walked the empty sidewalk with his suitcase in one hand and the damp card in the other. He read the address again and again until the ink began to blur. It felt strange in his fingers... as though the paper had a pulse.
He was too tired to notice when the street changed; the storefronts grew shabbier, the signs half-lit. Laughter cracked through the mist, sharp and wrong.
Three men leaned against a wall, cigarettes glowing like tiny eyes. When Ren tried to slip past, one straightened.
"Hey, pretty boy, where you heading?"
He kept walking, eyes on the ground.
Another voice, closer. "You ignoring us?"
A shove. His suitcase fell open, clothes spilling across the wet pavement. The card fluttered away. Panic flared in his chest... not for his wallet, not for the bruises he already knew were coming, but for that one scrap of paper. He dove for it, caught it, then felt a fist catch the side of his face.
The world turned white for a heartbeat.
By the time they lost interest, his pockets were empty, his ribs ached, and rainwater mixed with blood at the corner of his mouth. Their laughter drifted away down the alley until it became part of the city's endless noise.
He stayed on the ground a while, breathing through the taste of metal. The puddles around him shimmered with neon light; his reflection looked like a stranger's... hair plastered to his cheeks, skin ghost-pale, eyes too dark. The faint mark at his nape glistened through the water like ink trying to swim back to the surface.
He pushed himself upright, shaking. No phone. No money.
For a second, he thought of sitting down again and waiting for the morning to find him. But the card was still there in his hand, stubbornly real.
A figure appeared at the far end of the street... a man in a dark coat, umbrella tilted. Ren hesitated, then forced himself forward.
"Excuse me," he said, voice rough. "Could I borrow your phone? Just for a moment."
The man turned. His eyes widened a little. Ren must have looked like something fallen out of a dream... soaked clothes clinging to a too-thin body, bruises blooming like watercolor under his skin. The stranger's gaze lingered a second too long before he smiled.
"Of course," he said, pulling the phone from his pocket. "Be careful, though; people around here aren't kind."
Ren managed a faint smile. "I know."
Their fingers touched as the phone changed hands. The man's skin was warm; his thumb brushed Ren's knuckles as though by accident, then didn't move away. Ren stepped back, pretending not to notice.
He dialed the number written on the card. Each ring stretched like a held breath.
Then the voice came... low, steady, the same one that had offered him a job.
"Yes?"
"It's… Ren," he said softly. "You said I could start tomorrow, but something happened. I… lost everything. Could you pick me up? Please."
A pause. Then: "Sure."
The call ended.
Ren blinked at the dark screen. The man hadn't even asked where he was.
Before he could think about it, a drop of rain hit the phone's glass, blooming into a small circle of light.
He looked up. The street was empty except for him and the stranger. The man's expression had changed... smile gone, eyes darker now, studying him.
"You okay?" the man asked. His voice had dropped lower, almost kind, almost something else.
"I think so," Ren murmured.
A car engine sounded somewhere distant. The stranger shifted closer. The umbrella tilted; rain dotted Ren's hair. Fingers brushed his wrist. He flinched, but the man only laughed softly, a sound too smooth to trust.
Ren took a step back. "Thanks for the call," he said quickly, trying to hand the phone back.
The man didn't take it. "You sure you don't need more help?"
His gaze slid down and up again, slow, measuring.
The air thickened. Ren's heartbeat grew loud in his ears.
He knew that look... he'd seen it before, the moment a person stops seeing you as a person.
"Please," he said, voice shaking. "Just take your phone."
The man's smile returned, thinner this time. "Relax, I'm just talking."
He reached out again; Ren stumbled back, the phone slipping from his fingers, clattering against the curb. The man's hand caught his wrist, grip tightening.
"Let go!"
Ren's voice cracked, echoing down the narrow street. He struggled, trying to twist free. The man's eyes were bright with something that made Ren's stomach turn, he was pinned against a nearest tree by the man... who was forcing himself on ren, the man kissed ren's neck making him cry for help. the man held both of his hand above his head. ren's beauty and voice was so addictive for that man that he couldn't let ren go...
Ren freed himself somehow and tried to run only to get caught again the man held his wrist tight enough to leave marks. ren screamed for help.
"Don't make a scene-"
"Help!"
The shout tore from his throat before he realized he'd said it. For a moment, there was only the sound of rain and his own pulse roaring in his ears.
Then: headlights rounding the corner, cutting through the mist.
The man froze, grip loosening. Ren pulled away, stumbling toward the light.
The beam washed over him, too bright to see past. A car door clicked open. A familiar voice, calm and certain, carried through the rain:
"Ren."
Everything inside him went still. and he collapsed on the street on his knees.
END OF THE CHAPTER.