The man died before sunset.

We talked a little before then. Mostly about his family. His wife. His six-year-old daughter, Erica.

He loved them. That much was clear. And I listened—because what the hell else could I do for a dying man? I didn’t have the right words. Didn’t know what you were supposed to say in moments like this.

But silence? Silence felt worse.

So I stayed. Listened. Let him talk until he couldn’t anymore.

And even then—until his last breath—he told the truth.

Not in words. Not outright. But I saw it in his face. The way his eyes welled up but he never let the tears fall. The way he stared past me, blankly, like he was already half-gone. He tried to act tough. But he wasn’t.

He was afraid.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

I dug the grave myself. A proper one. As proper as it could be, anyway.

"Why are you doing this?" Ruk asked, watching me work. "You just met him."

I didn’t look up. Just kept digging.

"I don’t know." I exhaled sharply. "Maybe because, in a way... he was the same as me."

Yeah. He was the same as me.

A summoner. Used, then discarded. Branded as useless, but still kept going.

Maybe that’s why I buried him. Maybe that’s why it mattered. Because if he was just like me, then what happened to him could just as easily happen to me.

Ruk watched as I patted the last bit of dirt over the grave, then stretched, lazily licking his fur. "What’s your plan now?"

"I’m heading back to the city." I didn’t bother looking up.

Ruk flicked an ear. "Didn’t you say the guild threw you out to die?"

"Yeah."

"Then why go back? Someone connected to them might recognize you. They might finish the job."

I sighed. "I get what you’re saying, Ruk. But staying here won’t do me any good. I need to see more of this new world. Figure out how deep this mess actually goes."

I dusted my hands off, glancing at Reese’s grave one last time.

"Besides, I’ll keep a low profile. Not going back to my house. That’d be suicide."

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Reese was buried.

I should’ve felt relieved, I guess. But all I had was guilt. Not the overwhelming kind—just that dull, nagging weight in my chest. I couldn’t heal him. Couldn’t stop the infection from eating him alive. Too late to blame myself now, though.

Damn it. If I wasn’t so weak, maybe he’d still be breathing.

I exhaled, shaking the thought off. "Off we go."

Ruk grunted. "Let me rest."

"You just had a break."

"Yeah, and I just lifted that guy. Again."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you rascal."

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MY FREAKING LEGS HURT LIKE HELL.

I wasn’t even exaggerating. They were shaking. I’d walked all the way from that dungeon back here—back home.

Clinton Bay.

I sighed, rubbing my sore legs as I stared ahead. City lights glowed in the distance, stretching high. Commercial buildings, buzzing neon, streets full of people living their lives like nothing had changed.

Like the world wasn’t as screwed as I knew it was.

"Hey, did you hear the news?"

"Take a picture here."

"Where should we eat?"

Voices blurred around me as I walked, slipping through the crowd like a ghost. I kept my head low, moving without drawing attention. No hoodie, no way to cover my face—just the hope that no one who mattered would recognize me.

Not that hiding was my only problem.

I needed money. Badly.

Ahead of me, rows of restaurants, food stalls, neon-lit stores stretched across the street. People moved in and out, laughing, eating, living their normal-ass lives. Meanwhile, I was out here praying no one saw me, starving like an idiot, and realizing just how much I’d screwed myself by coming back.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Free samples! Free taste right here!"

"Come on, try it!"

A stall owner waved at me, holding out a piece of something fried—chicken wings, I think. I waved him off, forcing an awkward smile.

Then my stomach clenched. Hard.

Right. I hadn’t eaten at all today. Hell, maybe not since yesterday. What a genius move.

I walked past, hesitated, then slowly took a step back.

The guy was still there, still holding out the sample.

I forced another awkward smile, grabbed it, and walked away like I hadn’t just embarrassed myself.

Pathetic.

But hunger didn’t give a damn about pride.

"Damn, that was good." I muttered, finishing off the last bit of chicken wing.

Didn’t do much for the hunger, but it was something.

The market was packed tonight—too loud, too busy. I couldn’t afford to stick around. I needed a plan, a way to make some cash. But where the hell did I even start? Earning money wasn’t easy, not when you had nothing. No connections. No experience that mattered in this so-called new world.

Back before everything changed, I worked a ton of jobs. Fast food, janitor, delivery guy—whatever kept me afloat after I dropped out of school. Not by choice, either. My parents splitting up forced my hand.

I made enough to get by. Barely.

At least they left me the house. Not that it was much of a blessing in the long run. Bills, maintenance, all the crap that came with owning a place—I was constantly one bad month away from losing it all.

I sighed, shaking off the thought. No use dwelling on the past.

I turned to leave.

And then—

Through the crowd, a glimpse of something familiar. A face. One I knew.

No. That wasn’t possible.

I couldn’t be—

"Ethan?"

The voice hit me.

I turned again, slower this time.

And there she was.

A woman, late thirties. Healthier than I remembered. Almost glowing. At first, I just thought she looked familiar, but no—

She was.

Mother.

Shit.

I turned fast, pretending I didn’t hear her. Walked like I had somewhere important to be. Like I wasn’t seconds away from bolting.

But then—

A hand caught my wrist.

I stopped.

Her hand. Mother’s hand.

"Where have you been?" Her voice wasn’t angry. Just worried. "I’ve been checking up on you, but you never answered."

Her eyes searched my face, and for the first time in years, I felt like a kid again. Caught in a lie I hadn’t even told yet.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. Couldn’t say I’d been thrown into a dungeon to die. That I was an Awakener. That I’d been hiding it from her this whole time.

How the hell was I supposed to spin that?

My mouth opened before my brain caught up. "I… I was looking for a new job." The words stumbled out, unsteady.

Her gaze sharpened.

"Look at you. You look like you haven’t eaten in days. Have you?"

"Ye—"

Right then, my stomach betrayed me. Loud. Like it was screaming liar.

She sighed. "Come on. Let’s get dinner."

I should’ve refused. Should’ve walked away.

Instead, I let her lead the way.

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I sat in a nice restaurant, sticking out like a sore thumb in my dirty sweatshirt and worn-out pants. Mom either didn’t notice or just didn’t care. Meanwhile, I could feel the eyes on me. The kind of stares that made you second-guess whether you should even be here.

The place was warm, quiet. The kind of spot people came to for comfort, not just food.

I glanced at Mom.

She and Dad split years ago. I thought they were fine—happy, even. Then one day, just like that, they were done. Divorced. They asked me to choose: Mom or Dad.

I chose neither.

I thought maybe that would make them stay. That if I didn’t pick a side, they wouldn’t leave. But they did. Left me with Grandma in the house until she passed. And then, for years, it was just me.

I wasn’t angry. Not really.

I just... thought it was unfair.

"Tell me," Mom said suddenly. "Your favorites are still black coffee and strawberry shortcake, right?"

I nearly choked.

Why the hell would she say that out loud?

I nodded, shifting awkwardly. "Mom, what are you even doing in the market this late?"

"Oh, I was meeting someone, actually. And then—coincidence!—I saw you. Figured you might want to meet him."

"Him?"

Who the hell was him?

Before I could press further, a man walked up behind her. Tall. Well-dressed.

Mom turned, smiling. "Oh, there he is!"

The guy leaned in, kissing her on both cheeks. Friends? Old colleagues?

"Ah! Wesley, this is Ethan—my son I told you about."

The man turned to me. Good-looking. A little too put-together.

"Ethan! So you’re Ethan." He grinned, extending a hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

I stared at him. Something about him put me on edge, but I shook his hand anyway.

Then Mom dropped it.

"Ethan, meet Wesley—my fiancé."

For a second, my brain blanked.

Fiancé?

This guy?

I wasn’t mad. Not really.

Just... completely blindsided.

We sat at the table—me on one side, next to Mom, while Wesley took the other. His expression gave away nothing, but I could feel him analyzing me.

Sizing me up.

Did I look like a homeless guy to him? Probably.

Did I care? Not really.

What did bother me was the instinct screaming at me to run. My gut twisted. My hands started shaking again. Something about this whole setup felt wrong.

"Heard a lot about you." Wesley finally spoke.

Shit.

Mom smiled like this was some heartwarming moment. Like she thought it was nice that her fiancé was taking an interest in her son.

Yeah. No.

The man sipped his drink, casual as hell. I forced myself to do the same, taking a slow sip of my black coffee.

And then—

"Wesley actually works for the Awakener Guild. He’s a talent researcher."

GODDAMN IT.

I almost choked. Nearly spit my coffee all over the damn table.

I knew this was bad, but I never expected to be this bad.

Are they hunting me already?

Did the guild know I survived? Did they send him?

My grip tightened around the fork and knife as I sliced through the cake. Forced myself to act normal. Stay casual.

"That’s great. Actually, that’s amazing." I forced the words out, keeping my tone steady even as my hands shook slightly.

Wesley smiled, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah, really. It’s enjoyable work."

Enjoyable. Right. Hunting down people like me.

And then, just when I thought this couldn’t get worse—

"Ethan, you should let him help you find a job. Isn’t that a good idea?"

Mom. What the hell.

I let out an awkward laugh, hoping Wesley wouldn’t take the bait. Don’t agree. Don’t freaking agree.

"I could write you a recommendation if you want."

AAAAH, HELL NO.

I swallowed down the panic, keeping my expression neutral. "I’ll think about it."

Mom frowned. "What’s there to think about? He could definitely help you."

Woman, please.

I stabbed another bite of cake like it owed me money.

"I’ll definitely think about it, Mom. I’ll let you know."

I stood, taking one last bite of the cake before pushing my chair back.

Mom frowned. "Okay, but where are you going?"

"Thanks for the dinner mom." I glanced at Wesley. "Sir, nice meeting you."

I gave a quick bow—too quick—then turned and walked. Fast. Straight for the exit.

The second I stepped outside, I exhaled sharply, dragging in a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. My hands weren’t shaking anymore, but only because I forced them not to.

I should’ve never accepted Mom’s invitation.

I moved toward a quieter part of the street, away from the worst of the crowd. Guilt gnawed at me for leaving so suddenly, but it didn’t matter. Staying there? Staying near him? It felt too dangerous.

And the worst part?

Of all the people in this city, of all the women in the damn world—Wesley had to end up engaged to my mother.

I gritted my teeth. If he ever found out I was an Awakener, it wouldn’t just be bad—it’d be game over.

"Damn it." I kicked the ground, sending a loose pebble flying.

I didn’t even finish the damn cake.

No, just kidding. But honestly? If ditching the rest of dessert was the price of avoiding him, it was worth it. Even if it meant showing that side of myself to Mom.

I felt bad. Not for leaving, but for leaving her without an explanation. She probably thought I was just being my usual distant, unreliable self. She had no clue what was really going on.

Once I stepped outside, the city swallowed me whole again.

People everywhere. Different voices, different lives, all blurring together into the constant hum of Clinton Bay.

I needed to move. Get the hell out of this market before I ran into another Awakener Guild worker.

I walked fast, hands in my pockets, mind racing.

Should I risk going back to my house? Grab my savings?

No. Too risky.

Even if no one was waiting for me there, it was only a matter of time before someone checked.

Stick to the plan. Lay low. Get some cash. Maybe take on a few raiding jobs, something under the radar.

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I pushed through the crowd, weaving between people too busy with their own lives to notice me slipping past. Eventually, I broke free, leaving the market behind.

Now I was here.

A quieter part of the city. Dark streets. Only a few dim lights flickering above. Barely any people. Perfect.

I needed to think.

Raiding wasn’t a bad idea. It was risky, sure, but it had its advantages—money, experience, a way to grow stronger. But there was always the chance I’d run into someone who recognized me.

Low odds. But not zero.

"Ugh." I muttered, shaking my head.

I was exhausted. I needed a place to crash. That was problem number two.

But just as I started figuring out my next move—

"HELP!"

A sharp, desperate scream.

A woman’s voice.

My whole body tensed.

The sound cut through the quiet, hitting me harder than I expected. My fingers twitched. My breath caught. For a second, my brain blanked.

Then came the thoughts. The hesitation.

Should I check it out?

It was just one word. Help. That meant trouble. That meant getting involved.

But my hands were shaking now. Why the hell was I hesitating? I’d faced death. Twice. And here I was, frozen over a scream?

Then, suddenly, I moved. I ran toward the sound, scanning every alley I passed. But nothing. No one.

"Please… please shout again." I muttered, my eyes darting through the shadows.

Then I saw it.

A dead-end alley, wedged between two buildings.

Dark. Empty. Except for them.

I pressed my back against the w

all, breath steadying as I took in the scene.

A man, his hand clamped over a woman’s mouth.

She was the one who screamed.

And him—he had something in his other hand.

The dim light barely caught the edge of it, but I knew what it was.

A knife.

Pressed right against her throat.

"Don’t shout," the man hissed, his voice low and sharp. "Or I’ll damn well cut your neck, bitch."