They found refuge in the shadowed remains of an old warehouse, just a few blocks from where Krista had killed the Peacekeepers. The building was a forgotten relic, a monument to decay, its roof sagging and rusted metal doors hanging crooked on their hinges. Evening light filtered through broken windows, casting jagged patterns of gold and shadow across the dusty floor. Broken crates and dust-covered machinery lay abandoned, remnants of a time when this place had purpose.

Now, it was silent, save for the distant hum of the city slums outside. The air smelled of damp wood and rust, the scent heavy with the weight of time and neglect. But for now, it was quiet, and that was all that mattered.

Ken collapsed against an old workbench, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His chest heaved, not just from the run but from the adrenaline that still coursed through his veins, rattling his bones. His heart pounded in his ears, a relentless drumbeat that refused to quiet, and he wiped a shaky hand across his brow, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“I... I can’t believe you actually killed them,” he said between breaths, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and something else—something like awe. His wide eyes darted toward the girl, still trying to process the violence that had happened just moments ago. “What’s your name?”

The girl, sitting casually against the cracked wall, arms crossed, seemed unaffected by the turmoil. Her posture was relaxed, almost as if she hadn’t just killed. She flicked her blue eyes toward him, a spark of something unreadable glinting there.

“I go by Krista,” she replied, her voice as cool and detached as the shadows around them. After a pause, she added, “What about you?”

“Ken,” he managed to say, his breathing finally starting to even out. His voice sounded small in the echoing space. “I go by Ken.”

Silence hung between them, filling the gaps between the distant slum sounds that drifted in through the broken windows. Somewhere far off, the hum of life continued, unaware of the bloodshed that had just taken place.

Inside, though, the world felt still, like a photograph suspended in time. Ken rubbed the back of his neck, nerves crawling up his spine. He couldn’t believe what he had just agreed to—couldn’t believe he was sitting next to this girl, in this abandoned shell of a building, after what she’d done. She killed them... And now, by helping her, he was an accomplice.

The weight of it pressed down on him. He glanced over at Krista, his gaze lingering just a little too long. She was striking, standing there in the fading light. Every time his eyes met hers, he felt a jolt, like a live wire connecting. His heart raced for reasons he didn’t quite understand, and he quickly looked away, cheeks flushing with heat as if her gaze had burned him.

It was awkward—at least, he felt it was. She seemed completely at ease, as if the world could crumble around her, and she’d still sit there, unbothered.

They sat side by side in the warehouse for what felt like an eternity, the dusty silence wrapping around them like a blanket. Every so often, Ken would steal another glance, only to catch her watching him back with those piercing blue eyes. Every time, he turned away, flustered, his pulse quickening. The heat in his face deepened, showing his embarassing nervousness.

Finally, the question that had been gnawing at him broke free from his lips, the one that had been building since the moment she dragged him into this chaos. “Why are you doing this?” His voice wavered. “This... revolution thing.”

Krista tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. She leaned back against the wall, her hair falling like a pale curtain, catching the faint, silvery glow of the moon that filtered through the broken roof above them. The night sky beyond stretched vast and endless, a deep indigo canvas dotted with countless stars. Wisps of cloud drifted lazily across the heavens, and the occasional twinkle of distant constellations seemed to pulse with life, as if the universe itself were breathing.

“Hmmm…” She exhaled softly. “I guess it’s out of boredom.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Out of boredom?” Ken almost choked on the words, his disbelief ringing through the still air. He stared at her, mouth agape. “You’re risking your life because you’re bored? You could get killed!”

Krista laughed, the sound light and almost playful. “Well, there’s that,” she said with a smirk. “But I’m also curious. I want to know what’s out there—beyond the steel walls that surround this place.” She glanced at Ken, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Aren’t you curious too?”

Ken hesitated, his heart pounding again, though this time for a different reason. The walls she spoke of had loomed over them for as long as he could remember. The Satellite was all he’d ever known—cold, oppressive, a cage that kept them trapped.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah... I guess I am.”

“But do you have a plan?” Ken asked, apprehensive. “How do you plan on breaking out of here? The Peacekeepers have tightened security ever since the Blighted King’s escape all those years ago. Getting out of the Satellite and reaching the Mainland… it’s practically impossible now.”

Krista tilted her head, her expression thoughtful but strangely unconcerned. She pushed herself off the wall, taking a slow step forward, her eyes flickering with amusement. “I plan on doing what the Blighted King did,” she said simply, her voice carrying a calm certainty. “Recruit strong allies, overwhelm the Peacekeepers.”

Ken let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not exactly an easy task, especially now. With the news of the Blighted King’s death reaching the Satellite, morale is at an all-time low. I’d assume the rebellion has been beaten out of most of us.”

Krista’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of agreement in her eyes. “You’re not wrong,” she said, a quiet sigh escaping her. “But that’s why I need to do something drastic.”

Ken blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “Drastic?”

“I’m going to kill the Commander,” Krista said, her tone flat, as though it were the simplest decision in the world. Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering. “The Peacekeeper Commander in charge of this district. Once people see that someone like him can be taken down, they’ll know this revolution is serious.”

Ken’s chest tightened. He stared at her, a mix of fear and admiration swirling in his gut. “You... you want to kill the Commander?”

“Exactly,” she replied, her voice steady. “Once they see we can bring down someone that powerful, they’ll realize that this is the real deal.”

Ken swallowed hard, doubt gnawing at him. “That won’t be easy,” he said, shaking his head, his voice low.

Krista nodded, acknowledging his words. “You’re right. It won’t be. But thanks to the Blighted King’s rampage a couple of years ago, the Peacekeepers have been weakened.” She flashed him a quick, optimistic smile, her tone light. “Who knows? Maybe all the Peacekeepers left are noobs.”

Her grin was infectious, and despite the gravity of the situation, Ken couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Suddenly, Krista moved closer to Ken, closing the distance between them until her face was only inches from his. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. She was so close now, too close, and even though he knew what she was—what she had done—he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. It made him uneasy, the way his heart pounded. This girl was a murderer, and yet… here she was, inches away, her blue eyes locked on his.

“What’s your Curse, Ken?” she asked, her voice soft but direct. “I heard this morning you never figured it out. Is that true?”

Ken felt his face flush, and his gaze dropped to the ground. He didn’t want to answer. For a long moment, he stood there, silent. Until finally, his voice broke the silence, quiet and troubled.

“It’s not that I don’t know what it is,” he said, his eyes still avoiding hers. “I just… don’t want to use it.”

Krista’s brow lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, but she didn’t interrupt. Ken swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. His stomach churned with uncertainty and doubt, and the thought nagged at him—what if he was too weak for her revolution? Too useless?

“I… I don’t know if I’ll be any use to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that I’m… too useless for this.”

The silence between them returned. Then, to his surprise, Krista’s expression softened. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against his arm in a gesture that was strangely comforting, given everything she was.

“You’re not useless, Ken,” she said, her voice quieter now, more gentle than he’d ever heard it. “Just you being here with me is enough.”

Ken looked up, caught off guard by the kindness in her words. He hadn’t expected her to say that. She gave him a small, almost wistful smile.

“You’re a kind person,” she added, her tone softening even more, as if she understood something deeper about him, something he hadn’t told her. “I get it.”