"Rhaen…?" Mr. Junon said. "That you…?"
"Yeah, it's me!" I replied, dropping to my knees beside him. "...It's me."
Mr. Junon tried to sit up, but I forcibly placed a hand on his shoulder and held him down.
"Don't move! I'll get help. I can—"
"Run…"
His head twitched as he said those words and he coughed, blood spilling from the side of his lips.
"You… have to run… away…"
"No! Don't say that," I denied. "You'll be okay. I'll find someone, I'll—"
"Rhaennn!!!"
Mr. Junon raised his voice for the first time at me, and I froze. His hand shot up and grabbed my collar with a strength that no dying man should have.
"...Mr. Junon."
"Listen, brat…" Mr. Junon's hands trembled and his grip on my shirt loosened. "This shitty world… you'll… have to change it…"
His hand finally slipped from my shirt and I caught it.
"Huh…? No. Why…? Why would you…?"
I pressed my forehead against his and clutched his hand to my cheek as I held back my tears.
Mr. Junon had always been kind to me.
He thought I didn't know, but I knew. I knew everything he tried to hide.
How he didn't eat on some days, just so he could trade me the bread meant for him. How he scolded me for forgetting to eat when he was the one going hungry.
How he never sold the gears I brought him, but kept them tucked away in an old tin box, probably thinking I'd need the funds from them one day. He's probably planning to give them back when the time is right.
And how, even if he consistently said he didn't, I knew he adopted me.
The rumors said I was found in the old clocktower when I was a baby. But I knew it was Mr. Junon who found me. I knew it was Mr. Junon who took me in.
Who raised me without ever asking for anything back.
I knew it was Mr. Junon who loved me in the only quiet, stubborn way he knew how.
"Why?!" I screamed, my fists trembling as I slammed them into the blood-slick floor. "Mr. Graycat… Mr. Junon… Why does the Tower keep ripping everything away?! Why do I always have to lose?!"
I gritted my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache. My vision blurred not just from tears now, but from the pure rage I felt.
"Is it not enough that I was born with nothing?! That I have nothing?!"
I looked up.
A neon sign above still flickered in and out, and the rain had begun to fall like even the sky wanted to wash this very moment away.
"That… I am nothing…?"
Bang!
The sudden gunshot behind me shattered the moment.
A dozen footsteps followed. Their heavy boots pounded so hard like the ground itself trembled.
"Don't move! Stay where you are!"
Before I could even turn, a knee slammed into my back and drove me flat to the floor. My face smashed against the floor, and a rough hand wrenched my wrists behind me, locking them in place.
"The murderer has been apprehended!"
"What…? No! You've got it wrong! I didn't do this! I—"
"Shut it!" one of them yelled. "His blood's all over you, scum!"
I looked down.
It was true. My shirt was soaked as blood clung to my sleeves, smeared down my arms, and stained the grooves of my palms.
"It's not… It's not because I— I didn't—"
The nearest guard snatched the bundled jacket I had wrapped around Mr. Graycat and tore it open. The cat's limp body spilled out onto the stone.
"Don't—! Don't touch him—he's—!"
"Excuses!" the guard spat. "Whatever you say is useless, you filthy Giftless rat!"
"Just listen to me!" I shouted it as loud as I could, hoping at least it was enough to make them listen. "I've been telling you you're mistaken! I didn't—"
But my voice was cut short as a fist rammed into my abdomen.
My body snapped backward from the force, sending me airborne and slammed my back into the wall.
The bricks cracked, or perhaps it was my back as pain rushed in like a flood, burning through my spine as I slid down to the ground.
The guards stood around me. Their shapes were blurry as they spat accusations I couldn't even process anymore.
"Get that filth out of here."
"Disgusting Giftless."
"He killed a kind man for what? A scrap of pity?"
Their voices blurred together like whispers underwater and all I could do was lie there, counting my breath that came in shallow and uneven gasps as I stared up at the ceiling trying to piece together what had just happened.
Then.
Softly, I laughed.
I laughed not because it was funny nor because it made sense, but because something broke inside me— a laugh that meant nothing and everything.
Because they were right: it was not about the murder, but about me.
I truly thought that if I did the right thing, if I stood up, if I reached out, and if I cared, maybe the Tower would listen. That maybe doing what was right could still matter, even for someone like me.
But that was a stupid mistake.
The world doesn't listen to someone without power.
I can cry.
I can scream.
I can probably even bleed.
But unless I have something the Tower wants, the world would never hear me.
Forcing my eyes open, I looked up through the haze— at the guards dragging me like I was already dead, at the men who didn't hesitate to beat a Giftless boy half to death for a crime they didn't witness and a truth they didn't care to know.
In that moment, I realized something.
Their uniforms might've shined under the gutter-lights, but their hands were stained with more blood than mine could ever be.
"Ahaha…" I laughed. "Look around."
One of them jerked my collar tighter, but I kept speaking because the words had nowhere else to go but out.
"Every inch of this place is built on garbage. You live in a city of trash and wear it like gold, you pieces of shit. You have no will of your own."
I coughed blood into the dirt but didn't stop.
"You have eyes, yet none of you can see how much trash you've become."
The guard slammed me against the makeshift table, but I only laughed again through my teeth.
"You act like you see everything. Like you understand justice. But you're all blind."
"Shut your mouth, you filth!"
Bang!
The guard shot a fire clean through my leg. I wanted to scream, but bit it down and gritted my teeth instead until I tasted blood and spat at the floor near his boots.
"Filth?" I asked, smiling. "You're the filthy ones."
"You turn your noses up like you're better than a Giftless like me, but you don't even smell the stench of your own hypocrisy."
The guard's fingers curled tighter around the trigger, but I still kept going and even lifted my head to meet his gaze.
"No amount of polish can hide what you are. You're not clean. You're just used to the smell of shit."
His face twisted, veins bulging from his temple as he raised the revolver again— ready not just to shoot through my leg but possibly through my head.
But I didn't flinch.
Because there was nothing left in me that feared them anymore.
They could break my ribs.
They could steal my voice.
They could bury me.
But they couldn't take away the truth.
Because no matter how much shit they dressed up in armor and laws and speeches about order and purity, this city was made of trash.
And they were the ones who reeked the most.
"I told you to shut up, you Giftless piece of—"
"Necraia!"
I shouted her name before the man could fully aim his revolver right at me.
Just like her name was a key, the Grim Reaper appeared, floating upside down on her scythe. Her legs were crossed and her arms were folded behind her head like she had been watching the whole time and finally got bored.
— Ohhh-hooo?
She hummed, tilting her head with a smile.
— Mister None. You called?
The guard who had just grabbed me took a half-step back, confused. The others didn't even have time to speak before Necraia dropped down lightly, her scythe spinning once before resting lazily on her shoulder.
"What the hell is—" one of the guards said, pointing the revolver right at me.
Necraia didn't even blink.
With a flick of her finger, the revolver crumpled like paper and folded into itself before hitting the ground.
— Oops!
She said, feigning surprise with a hand to her lips.
— I am a little clumsy when people threaten my client.
"Client?" I muttered.
She winked at me.
— Well, you didn't sign yet… but y'know, I'm generous.
The guards raised their voices and barked threats and orders, but Necraia simply turned her scythe and tapped it against the ground.
Dong!
The bell above the clocktower rang out and the guards collapsed one by one, fainting as their eyes rolled back like puppets with cut strings. They made no sound and just dropped unconscious before their bodies even hit the ground.
All of them, except me.
And Necraia.
She stepped over them, not even bothering to look down and came to stand in front of me.
— Rhaen Vauxhall? What is your decision?
I clenched my fists. Whether she's real or just a Gifted pretending to be one, I didn't really give it much thought.
"The deal," I said. "I'll do it."
A giggle bubbled from her lips.
— Ehehe…
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.
— The deal is simple. You lose a portion of your lifespan depending on the power you borrow.
I didn't flinch. I had already thrown my life away once. What were a few hundred days compared to that? Still, she tilted her head and watched me like a cat watching a toy it already knew how to break.
— Humans live, what? A hundred years? Losing thirty, fifty… it's not a big deal, right? It's the price of power.
She kicked her legs lazily over the handle of her scythe like this conversation bored her more than it should have.
— So? Tell me. How long do you want to do this?
"How long?" I asked myself. In all honesty, time had never worked in my favor. So why would it even start now?
I clenched my fists. She had already said that power demands a price.
Thus.
"One year."
She blinked, folded her arms, and frowned.
— One year…?
Her lips twisted into a pout as she pressed a finger to her cheek.
— You want to be in the deal for only a year? Did you even listen to what I just...
"No."
I looked straight at her eyes, unblinking.
"Take everything. I only need a year."
— Ahahahaha~!!
She laughed.
A full-bodied, wild laugh that made her shoulders shake as she clutched her stomach like I had just told the best joke she had heard in centuries.
— Ohhh, sweetheart…
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
— You… really are something else.
Then she swung her scythe and it cut through the air, stopping just as it kissed the skin of my neck.
I felt the sting as a single drop of my blood floated free, trembling like it had been plucked from time itself before drifting to her waiting fingertips.
— Ehe~!
Necraia's tongue flicked out and tasted the blood like a connoisseur sampling fine wine.
— Deal sealed~!!