We all got into a long line in front of a glass case, holding more food than anything I'd seen in real life. There was rice and what looked like beans mixed with meat, and it was steaming! My mouth watered, and all hatred towards that stupid Lieutenant evaporated. The only thing that mattered at that moment was eating.

I got to the front of the line, and a disinterested chef put the food down in front of me. Somehow his tunic even looked cheffy, with an added white apron around his waist and only two gold bands around his arm. So he wasn't a Lieutenant, I think. I'll figure it out later; the food looked too good to think of anything else. He even gave me a glass of an orange liquid, to wash it down, he said.

After I got my food, we all sat down together, the others trying to move away from me even though the chairs were right next to each other.

As we sat down, all the others from yesterday—the C ranks and below—came in, still seemingly depressed from the news they received yesterday evening. Those five that followed Colonel Walker were nowhere to be seen though. They were probably off being fed grapes by some civvies while one of us read them their favorite book.

But then hunger took over. I shoveled everything on my plate into my mouth, barely tasting it. By the time I was done, I realized I hadn’t been breathing. I sat back, panting as I caught my breath.

The orange liquid came next—chugged in one go. The whole meal? Maybe twenty seconds. When I glanced up, everyone was staring at me like I was feral.

One girl, her nose wrinkled like she smelled something foul, leaned forward.

“Have you ever eaten before? Next time, try chewing.”

Another boy sneered, glancing at Richard as he said, “Civvie, this slop isn’t fit for my dog. How are you even enjoying it?”

I blinked at him, stunned. His dog got warm food? Beans and meat? Freshly cooked? All the dogs in my slum had been eaten long ago. And they gave their’s freshly cooked food? My mouth opened to tell him exactly what I thought of his dog, but my stomach beat me to it.

“Well, if you don’t want yours, I wouldn’t mind having it.”

Stupid stomach. Asking questions I should’ve thought of first.

The boy’s disgust deepened, but he slid his tray over, watching me like I might bite his hand off. I tore into the food again, pausing only to down the orange drink before finishing the rest. Leaning back with a satisfied sigh, I smiled. This was probably the most I’d ever eaten in one day—let alone one sitting.

When I looked around, everyone was still staring. Then Richard, of all people, asked, “When’s the last time you ate? You’re acting like dog food’s a gourmet meal.”

“This is a gourmet meal. It’s warm,” I replied, incredulous.

The girl from before narrowed her eyes. “Why are you acting like you’ve never eaten before? Seriously, when did you last eat?”

“Uhm, I had a bite of a burger yesterday. Literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You had a burger yesterday? And you’re comparing that”—she waved at the tray—“to this?”

“Uhm, no, ma’am. I had a bite of a burger. Just one bite, not the whole thing.” My eyes flicked to her plate. Hunger twisted in my gut like it always did.

“Ma’am?” She sounded almost offended. “Why are you calling me ma’am? And what else did you eat?”

“Just that,” I muttered. “Why are you all eavesdropping? Shoo.” I waved them off.

“That explains why you’re so scrawny. I could see your ribs when the boys carried you to bed last night. But if you can afford burgers, why not just eat more?”

I stared at her like she’d grown another head. Then I used the tone I reserved for people with broken brains. “You’ve never worried about money, have you?”

As I stood to leave, she blurted, “Why did you call me ma’am? I’m not that old!”

“Oh, sorry. I’m used to calling finks that. But you’re right—I shouldn’t.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her. “Please don’t call me a fink,” she murmured into her tray. Then she looked up, triumphant.

“Well, Boris, you might call me that, but aren’t you one of us now? One of the Blessed? No longer a civvie digging through dumpsters?”

My stomach churned at her words. “I don’t remember telling you my name, lady. And yeah, I must’ve upset God somehow, because now I’m one of you monsters. Not thrilled about it, thanks for asking. Also”—I pointed at her tray—“if you’re not gonna eat that, I’ll take it.”

And so, I ate a third breakfast while eavesdropping on the others’ chatter.

“I could hear you moving last night, Marnus. Why do you toss so much in your bed?”

“I’m sorry! But it wasn’t me,” muttered a boy with his head in his tray.

“It’s the side effects of the blessing,” a girl chimed in from across the room. “Takes two days to adjust. At least, that’s what my parents said.”

The boy looked at her like she’d hung the moon. His eyes practically sparkled at being defended by her.

I’d heard enough. Getting up, I placed my tray on a conveyor belt and went to find that weird woman.

“Uh, Lieutenant, I finished. I’ll just wait over here if you need me.”

She looked up from her meal, about halfway through it, the other finks quieting down as she asked, “You finished your whole meal? Already?”

I turned my head and gave her the most confused expression I could muster, saying, “Uhm. I finished three meals already?”

She returned the expression back to me, along with the rest of the finks sitting with her.

Ten minutes later, we were walking down the hall toward the dormitories but turned left before we got there. As we walked, I saw a single door at the end of the hallway, with ten rooms across from each other, similar to the dormitories for the B ranks.

As we were walking past, The General’s daughter—or I guess I should call her Sofia—walked out of one, her hair wet.

“I see you’re up early, ma’am,” Lieutenant Zenzele said, nodding as Sofia walked past her.

“Have to set a good example to the lower ranks, Lieutenant,” Sofia said with her nose in the air, seeming quite proud of herself.

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“Is that why you got up later than all of them?” I said over my shoulder before I could stop myself. That was probably not a good thing, but fuck her. I felt her gaze on my back as I kept walking toward the door at the end of the hallway.

The Lieutenant whipped around. “You will not speak to the high rankers unless you are asked to do so, Boris. This is one rule that you will not break again, am I clear?”

I just rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

She looked over my shoulder—at Sofia, I guess, still standing and staring at me.

“I apologize. He shall be punished accordingly for his remark, ma’am,” Lieutenant Zenzele said.

I looked over my shoulder at Sofia watching me. Strange girl. Then she said, “Where was this bravery yesterday morning? Coward.”

I turned around fully now, my finger in the air, before I was sinking to the ground, my brain mush. God, this was irritating.

“Definitely a coward, ma’am. He shall be dealt with accordingly,” I heard from a voice behind me, clearly holding back some anger.

Sofia seemed pleased with this, her nose in the air again, before she started walking back down the hall.

I was about to call out to her as I stood up, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning me around forcefully.

“Boris. I mean it. Don’t speak to them unless given permission,” Lieutenant Zenzele said, looking into my eyes.

Then she turned around, walking to the end of the hall, and knocked on the door loudly. I heard some grumbling from the other side before it was yanked open. The Lieutenant saluted as Colonel Walker came out in his underwear, wearing a very grumpy expression. His face immediately turned red when he saw Lieutenant Zenzele, and he slammed the door shut again.

“I shall be out in a minute, Lieutenant.” he said through the door.

She just stayed there, saluting the entire time. I walked back and forth a bit, putting my hands in my pockets, marveling that they didn’t have any holes in them as I clutched the fake bills in my hand.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the Colonel walked out of the room, fully dressed in that black tunic from yesterday, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could—probably trying to hide the mess in his room he practically showed off earlier.

“At ease, Lieutenant. Now, what can I do for you?” he asked with authority in his voice, like we hadn’t just seen him in his underwear.

She put her hands at her sides. “I wish to complete his paperwork,” she said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at me.

I just finger-gunned towards him and gave him my famous smile.

He looked at me with skepticism. “Don’t do that,” he said as he walked down the hall.

We followed him, turning right towards where we’d eaten. We walked for a while in total silence as I stared at Colonel Walker’s back. I remembered he’d been able to put me on my ass just by pointing at me. I was trying to figure out a way to beat him before we found a door a little ways before the big hall. He opened it to a small room with a desk and two chairs on either side of it.

We walked in as he held the door open for us, closing it as we passed by. He walked to the other end of the table and sat down. He rubbed his eyes like he was still waking up before looking at the Lieutenant and waving his hand at the chair across from him.

She raised an eyebrow slightly before her face straightened, then nudged me forward. I took that as my cue to sit.

“Right then.” Colonel Walker slapped down a piece of paper on the desk in front of him, pulling a pen from a drawer. “What’s your name?”

“Boris,” I said, frowning. This was a trick. Some kind of mind game. Had to be.

“And your last name?” he asked, pen scratching against the paper.

I hesitated, then leaned back in the chair. “Uhm. Don’t really have one of those.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing like he had expected that. “Of course you don’t.” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something else. Something more careful. Like he was stepping around broken glass. He glanced at Lieutenant Zenzele.

“Any ideas?” he asked.

She crossed her arms, pretending to think. “Troublemaker? Difficult? Hungry?” she offered, smirking slightly.

Colonel Walker rubbed his chin, pretending to consider it. “No, no. How about Boris the Thin? I think it suits him.”

I glanced between them, unimpressed. “Please never have children; they will be bullied,” I muttered.

Colonel Walker raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. How about Warde? Last name of the guy I did paperwork with earlier.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Boris Warde? Really? That seems a bit shit to me.”

He was already scratching it into the paper. “Date of birth?”

“I don’t know. Usually, we have a small party sometime around July.”

His pen stopped moving. “You don’t know your date of birth?” His voice had that same careful tone again.

I shrugged. “Nope. Told you, we celebrate it around July.”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker behind his eyes. He looked at Lieutenant Zenzele. It was quick, but I caught it.

The look. Like I was something to be handled. Like I was something fragile. I felt my stomach twist.

“So you don’t know how old you are?” he asked, slower this time.

My fingers curled into my palm, nails digging into my skin. “What do you want me to say?” I snapped. “No, I don’t.”

Walker exhaled through his nose. I could see him adjusting. Like he was trying to be gentle. Trying to be kind. I hated it.

“What do you know about yourself?” he asked carefully. “Your parents’ names? Your address? Any ID at all?”

“Uhm, no, no, and no.” I shifted in my chair, discomfort crawling up my spine. “Don’t know any of that. I lived in a church, was raised by a priest and a few nuns. No idea what an ID is either, if I’m honest.”

Silence.

The room shifted. He glanced at Lieutenant Zenzele again. She didn’t meet his eyes this time. Just stared at the floor.

His voice was even softer now. “Where can we find these nuns and priest?”

I blinked at him. Then, without thinking, I answered, “They’re in the cemetery just outside Goudstad.” I swallowed, feeling the words stick in my throat. “Or… one of the sisters is. The others are buried in the backyard. Couldn’t afford the service.”

The silence that followed was thick. I could feel the weight of their stares pressing against me, like hands I couldn’t shake off.

Lieutenant Zenzele was looking at me now. But it wasn’t her usual irritation, or her usual authority. It was something worse.

She looked… sad.

I clenched my jaw. My pulse was pounding in my ears. I hated that look.

Colonel Walker hesitated before speaking again. “Who looked after you when they passed away?” His voice had softened even more. Like I was a cornered animal. Like I needed to be handled.

I felt my hands shake. I balled them into fists.

“Me, myself, and I,” I said, voice flat. I leaned forward. Daring them to say something. “I run the church now.”

Walker’s eyes widened slightly. Zenzele’s shoulders tensed.

“When did they pass away?” he asked quietly.

I gritted my teeth. My voice came out mocking, imitating his soft tone. “About four, five years ago?”

And there it was. That look. That fucking look.

Pity.

Like I was some poor, sad little thing they had just stumbled across. Like I was something that needed saving. Something inside me snapped.

“Stop looking at me that way!” I roared, slamming my fist against the desk.

The wood shuddered under my hand, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.

The Lieutenant flinched. The colonel's hand twitched toward his shoulder, but he stopped himself.

I was breathing heavily. Fury burned in my chest. It filled my lungs, burned in my throat. I wanted to rip the pity out of their eyes.

Colonel Walker slowly lifted his hands. “Peace, Boris. Peace.”

I'll show you peace with my fist you moron, I thought to myself, and I could practically hear the wood straining as I gripped the sides of my chair.

He glanced down at my hands, then at me again, still holding up his hands, “I'll handle the paperwork. Lieutenant, take him back to the rest.” he said soothingly, trying to placate me.

“Why bring me here if I wasn’t fucking needed?” I spat, shoving the chair back hard enough that it tipped over. I didn’t even wait for a response before storming out, my boots hitting the floor hard with every step.

She looked ashamed when she walked out. Like I was a wounded dog in the street. The rage in my gut twisted into something sharper. Something that made my nails dig into my palm, something that begged to be let out.

“What’s your problem?” I snapped, my voice sharp as a knife.

She started walking down the hallway, not even turning around. “For now, follow me,” she said, her tone unreadable. “Today is the day we find out what you lot can do.”