Harry sprinted toward the alley where Kane had disappeared.
Kane, seeing Harry running toward him, knew exactly what he wanted: to drag him back to the Dursleys.
In Kane's mind, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley weren't bad people.
After all, they had taken in the freshly transmigrated Kane without asking for anything in return, caring for him for a whole month.
Never mind that he'd lived in the cupboard under the stairs. At least it was shelter from the wind and rain.
Kane was genuinely grateful to them from the bottom of his heart.
But gratitude aside, he really didn't want to live with them anymore, because the Dursleys' talent for psychological abuse could genuinely shorten a person's lifespan.
Harry could endure it because Harry had a gift for that sort of thing. Kane didn't.
Soon, Harry burst into the alley where Kane was hiding.
Kane crouched behind an abandoned car, watching Harry's approach in the rearview mirror.
With a flicker of thought, the shadows that had merged with the alley began to twist and take shape, forming several not-so-cute little dogs that lunged out of the darkness, barking at Harry.
Harry frowned, picking up a metal pipe from the ground to steady his nerves.
"Kane, come out. Let's go back. Uncle Vernon was just talking out of anger.
Aunt Petunia even asked Mrs. Figg about where you went. If you come back, they'll just pretend to forget the whole thing."
Kane stepped out from behind the car with a helpless expression. "More likely, they'll make fun of me. I don't like that feeling."
Harry sighed. "It's just psychological abuse, isn't it? At least you get three meals a day and a roof over your head."
Kane didn't budge.
"This place isn't so bad either. So what if I'm exposed to wind, sun, and rain without food? At least no one's psychologically abusing me here."
For the first time, Harry found himself saying something he never thought he'd say. "Can't you just be more mature about this?"
Kane shook his head.
"I've tried being mature. All maturity taught me was that it doesn't bring any benefits to your mental well-being.
For a tiny bit of material comfort, I really can't handle making my fragile psyche dance on knife blades.
So, Harry, go home and eat. Otherwise, your portion might get eaten by dear cousin Dudley."
Harry shook his head firmly. "You're coming back with me!"
Kane sighed. Persuasion wasn't working. Time for intimidation.
"If you don't go back now, these things might bite you."
Without another word, Kane commanded two shadow beasts to charge at Harry.
Of course, he had no intention of actually hurting him. He just used the shadows to cover Harry's eyes, blinding him temporarily.
"All right, go home, Harry. Go home." Kane walked toward Harry, intending to help him out of the alley.
Harry was startled when the blindness hit, but he quickly realized this must be Kane's doing.
He'd long known Kane was different, just like him.
He'd had experiences where glass suddenly vanished or where he'd fallen from a height without a scratch.
Before this, the only unusual thing Harry had noticed about Kane was his shadow, which sometimes writhed and flailed before quickly returning to normal.
Now, this complete loss of vision must be his first real experience of Kane's strange abilities.
Once he confirmed that Kane was behind this, Harry wasn't scared at all.
He grabbed the hand supporting his shoulder and tried to drag Kane out of the alley.
"Harry, you really are stubborn."
Kane manipulated the bizarre shadow claws, making them mimic his resistance as Harry gradually pulled him out of the alley.
Soon, as Harry's sight returned, he felt the "Kane" behind him struggling less and less, and he relaxed a bit. He glanced back. There was no Kane there.
The hand he'd been gripping so tightly was nothing but a pitch-black shadow. And now, that shadow suddenly vanished too.
Well, not completely. The shadow formed a mouth and spoke in Kane's voice.
"Bye-bye, Harry. I do have somewhere to go. Sayonara."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Can't you just speak English!"
The moment Harry finished speaking, the last trace of Kane's shadow disappeared with a pop.
"Fine, fine, fine..." Harry growled through clenched teeth, glaring at the empty alley.
"You'd better hope I never catch you, you sneaky little shadow-brat. I'll definitely—"
He suddenly stopped. "If I can actually beat you when the time comes, I'll make you pay for this!"
Kane, of course, had no idea Harry had already put him on his personal blacklist over this sudden disappearing act.
He had already arrived at a shabby, rather questionable motel.
Legitimate places had their advantages, like safety.
But shady places had their upsides, too. For example, even someone like Kane, who didn't have any ID, could still rent a tiny room as long as he paid in cash.
To avoid catching the greedy eye of the motel's sketchy owner, he had already ducked into an alley earlier and stashed most of his street-performance earnings in hidden pockets he'd sewn into his clothes.
He left only a small handful of wrinkled bills in his visible pockets, making himself look like a broke kid who barely had two coins to rub together.
A very effective deterrent against late-night "visits" from unscrupulous proprietors.
"Boss, how long can I stay for this much?"
At the motel counter, Kane dumped out his wrinkled bills and coins.
The owner glanced at them and immediately assessed the amount.
"About two days. Private bathroom, no breakfast, lunch, or dinner."
Kane did the mental math. Fifty pounds for two days. That was about the normal rate.
He took the key, found his room, and overall it wasn't too bad. The room wasn't large, but it wasn't cramped either.
He quickly washed up and collapsed onto the bed. He'd had a long enough day. Time to sleep.
Meanwhile, back at the Dursleys', Harry opened the door dejectedly, closed it, and took off his shoes.
Uncle Vernon, watching TV, grumbled without looking up. "There's food in the kitchen. You two eat and get to bed!"
With that, he switched off the TV and headed upstairs, as if letting Harry and Kane enjoy even a moment of entertainment in his house was unforgivable.
He didn't even want them to hear the sound of the television.
"Kane didn't come back. It's just me." Harry said quietly, picking up his own plate.
Vernon, halfway up the stairs, stopped. "He didn't come back? Where is he now?"
Harry's head dropped even lower, his nose nearly touching the plate. "I don't know."
Vernon frowned, then snorted coldly.
"Let him freeze for one night. He'll be crawling back tomorrow for sure. Toss his portion in the trash!"
Without looking back, he continued up the stairs.
Harry glared at the plate that should have been Kane's.
A surge of resentment flared inside him. He snatched the plate, stabbing at the food with brutal force, shoving each bite into his mouth as if he were devouring Kane himself.
Every motion of his chewing was violently intense, almost uncontrollable.
Finally, with a sharp crack, he bit his own tongue.
Tears and blood flowed out simultaneously. He didn't know if it was from the pain or something else.
After finishing his meal, Harry lay sobbing in the little cupboard under the stairs, breathing shakily as he stared at the low "ceiling" above him.
He listened to the cheerful laughter upstairs, utterly devoid of any sadness, and he seemed to understand why Kane would rather suffer outside than come back.
At the motel, Kane, who had been sleeping soundly, was suddenly pierced by a strange, eerie sensation. His eyes snapped open.
"It's Charlie!" he murmured.