Snow fell quietly as Vale followed Alfred through the city.
Each step burned. The cold bit into his feet, but that wasn't what hurt the most. It was the feeling—sharp and heavy—that he was leaving his birthplace. His chest tightened as memories surfaced without permission. Walking these same streets with his mother. Laughing. Belonging.
Vale stopped.
"I'm not leaving," he said suddenly. "I'm going back."
Alfred didn't argue. He didn't even turn around. He just kept walking.
The wind blew harder. Vale stood still for a moment longer, letting the cold settle into him. Then the pressure in his chest returned—stronger than before. Worse than during any theft.
He clenched his teeth and followed.
Christmas lights lined the streets, warm and bright. They felt wrong. His heart felt hollow, blackened—not with evil, but with the kind of darkness that comes when a place you love rejects you.
"Can we talk?" Vale said quietly. "Walking like this… the memories are killing me."
Alfred slowed.
"Of course."
Vale hesitated. "Do you… have something like me? A power? Or is it just luck?"
Alfred laughed softly.
"Are you a thief?" Vale asked.
"Yes."
"Like me?"
"No," Alfred replied. "Bigger targets."
"Banks?"
"Yes."
Vale looked at him. "Were you successful?"
Alfred shrugged. "Once. The second time failed. Now the system is hunting me. So I left."
They entered a town that connected several villages. People stared immediately. Whispers spread faster than footsteps.
"That's him.""The thief.""Watch guy."
Vale lowered his head and kept walking.
"Don't listen," Alfred said calmly. "If you do, things get worse."
An egg burst against Vale's head.
Something inside him snapped.
He ran.
A bicycle lay nearby. He grabbed it and pedaled hard as stones flew behind him. Alfred didn't run. He walked—steady, deliberate—following the direction Vale fled.
Minutes later, Alfred found him sitting on a rock beside a frozen river. Moonlight reflected off the water. Snow drifted between them.
"At least tell me where we're going," Vale muttered.
"The coast," Alfred said. "We take a boat."
Vale blinked. "A metro station?"
"Yes."
They reached the railway station.
For a moment, it felt normal. No whispers. No eyes.
They bought tickets.
Two railway police officers approached.
"Tickets," one demanded. Then he sneered. "Where did you steal these?"
He tore them apart.
"This train is government property. Not for thieves."
Vale stepped forward, furious. Alfred blocked him gently.
"We're leaving," Alfred said.
They hid in a restroom as the whistle echoed.
"One option," Alfred whispered. "Back stairs of the train."
Vale didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
The train began to move.
"Three," Alfred said."Two.""One."
They ran.
Vale's foot slipped—an inch from death.
Alfred grabbed him.
Pain exploded through Alfred's back as he slammed against the metal. He nearly lost consciousness—but he held on. With everything he had, he pulled Vale up.
They collapsed onto the roof as the train disappeared into the night.