Simon was the first to speak.
He stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, his eyes moving from one face to another as if he were trying to put order into a puzzle far too big for him.
"So… if I understand correctly…"
His voice hesitated—not because he didn't get it, but because he knew what he was about to say carried weight.
"Yurim overheard two guys talking about a warehouse. An old one. They found money there. A lot of money. And they're not sure about going back because it's dangerous."
He stopped, looked at me, then at the others.
"Is that right?"
Yurim nodded slowly.
"Yes. And they weren't homeless guys or desperate idiots. They talked like people who were armed. Like people who knew what they were doing."
At that word—armed—I felt my stomach tighten. The image of fire, of heat, of burning metal didn't exist yet… but something deep inside me already knew that this warehouse wasn't just an empty building.
William spoke up in a low voice.
"We barely have anything left to eat. Even stealing… it's getting harder."
He didn't like saying it. You could tell. He avoided our eyes, fidgeting with his fingers.
"I really don't like this idea. At all. But… we can't keep going like this either."
Marc let out a short, joyless laugh.
"Either way, we're already burned."
Everyone turned toward him.
"I've heard people talking about us in the streets. 'Kids who steal.' 'A group of brats.' It's spreading. And when things spread too much… the police get involved."
Simon went pale.
"You think they'll come for us?"
"I think they will. Eventually."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
I could almost hear their thoughts as clearly as my own. William's fear. Marc's cold logic. Simon's restlessness—he wanted to say no, but he had no arguments left. And Yurim… Yurim was already somewhere else. Thinking ahead.
"Checking out that warehouse," he finally said, "might be our only chance to stop chasing random people in the streets."
Simon straightened immediately.
"Or our chance to get killed."
"We're not talking about living there," Yurim replied. "Just checking."
I still hadn't spoken. I was listening. Analyzing. And deep down, a small voice whispered that Yurim was right.
"We vote," Marc said. "Like always."
William raised his hand almost instantly.
"I'm against it."
Simon followed.
"Against."
Yurim raised his.
"For."
Marc did the same.
"For."
They all turned toward me.
My heart started beating faster. I thought about hunger. About sleepless nights. About alleyways. About the risks we were already taking every single day.
"For."
The decision was made.
Even though Simon and William didn't agree, they didn't argue. They understood.
We decided to go at night.
The city changes at night. Sounds become rarer—but more threatening. Every shadow feels alive.
Yurim explained the plan calmly.
"Teïkō goes first. He scouts ahead and checks if the way is clear. He signals us. Marc opens the door. We go in, take what we can, and leave. No noise. No heroics."
I nodded.
Being agile had always been my role. The one who goes where the others can't.
When night fell, we left.
The warehouse was exactly as I remembered it. Big. Dark. Silent.
I moved forward first. Every step was calculated. I listened. Nothing. No voices. No movement.
I signaled.
Marc stepped up and placed his hands on the rusted door. He pushed. A muted creak. The door opened.
Inside—nothing.
Just dust. Empty crates. Shadows.
"You sure about this?" Simon whispered.
I was starting to doubt it too.
Then Simon tripped.
"Damn—"
He bent down and touched whatever he'd stumbled over. A bag.
He opened it.
His expression changed.
"Uh… you're gonna laugh…"
Marc walked closer.
"You seem pretty happy for someone who didn't want to come."
Simon smiled nervously.
"It's full. Money."
My heart jumped.
But at the same time… a smell hit me.
Sharp.
Like something burning.
"Wait—"
I didn't get to finish.
Flames erupted.
Behind us. In front of us. The exit was blocked.
William screamed.
"WE'RE TRAPPED!"
The heat rose instantly. Too fast.
I looked around, panic flooding my chest.
And then I saw it.
A window. At the back. Not too high. Just high enough.
"THAT WAY!" I shouted.
Without thinking, I climbed. I reached down and pulled William up. Then Yurim. Then Marc.
Simon stayed behind.
"Go," he said. "I'm right behind you."
Our eyes locked.
"I'll jump right after you. I promise."
I helped him through.
I take my weight.
A fraction of a second. Just one.
My fingers close around the wooden beam, blackened, scorching under my palm. Too hot. I feel it—but my mind still refuses to understand. The fire crackles behind me, roaring like an impatient beast. Every breath burns my throat.
"Teïkō!"
Simon's voice reaches me, muffled, twisted by the smoke. He's already outside. Safe. His eyes are wide, locked on me.
I push with my arms.
The wood groans.
A dry sound. Fragile. Wrong.
For one absurd moment, I think it'll hold. It held for the others. I'm light. I can make it.
Then I feel the vibration.
Not a shake. Not an impact.
Fatigue.
As if the beam itself is giving up.
"No…"
The word leaves me without sound.
The wood cracks beneath my hands. A slow fracture, almost silent, swallowed by the roar of the flames. My fingers slip. My feet search for support that's already gone.
Time stretches.
I see Simon reaching for me, too far. I see the cold, unreal light outside behind him. I see the fire climbing, licking the walls, closing in.
And I understand.
I won't make it.
The beam snaps completely.
A sharp, final crack.
My body tips backward.
The air is ripped from my lungs. My stomach lurches. My arms flail uselessly. The world flips—and for one suspended instant, I'm not falling yet.
Then I fall.
The heat hits me before the ground does. Violent. Crushing. Like an invisible wall. My eyes burn, my lungs seize, rejecting the air that is now nothing but smoke.
"TEÏKŌ!"
Simon's scream shatters somewhere above me.
And then there are only flames.
And the brutal, terrifying certainty that I am no longer with them.