The man hesitated before he nodded. The two of them worked together. They would first examine a person before feeding them.

They spent the whole day on the people in front of the building, then Whige took Nasar to the back of the building. People were lying about there as well, and no matter how much they tried, none of them so much as stirred. The only thing that marked them from the dead was breathing.

Night fell and they were still trying to find someone that could be saved. Maybe someone would wake up if they received enough stimulus.

After they were done with those on the premises, they went back to the house. Apart from those strewn on the floor, there were others in the inner parts of the building.

There was a hall near Nasar's office and two other rooms at the far end of the building. The people there weren't as many. But as soon as he went upstairs, a hot breeze hit him on the face.

He saw a line of rooms standing side by side like cardboard boxes. So many people were lying on the bare floor. Some hugged each other, while others laid atop each other. There was no room for passage.

As he stood there, a woman rolled and fell down the stairs. Her head hit the ground and split open.

Whige shook his head and moved ahead to feed water to the next person. He didn't comment about the woman.

Nasar, on the other hand, stood there and watched the mutilated corpse for a long time. He wanted to find at least one person who had some life in them.

His search continued until nine in the evening. He found two survivors in the end. It wasn't much when compared to the sea of people around him, but he was happy.

"What is your name?" He asked the woman first. She stared at him with blank eyes.

"Which guild brought you here?"

Silence.

She kept staring at him as though she didn't understand what he was saying, or didn't know how to answer.

After more than ten questions, Nasar left her and turned to the man.

"What is your name?"

"Lub."

Nasar felt a rush of excitement and quickly wrote it down.

"Which guild brought you here?"

"Gut Fly."

He wrote it and then asked, "Do you have a family outside the tower?"

"I have a wife and three kids."

"The kids, are they males or females?"

"I have five boys and... three girls?"

Nasar stopped writing and looked at him. "You said they were three."

"Ah... Three? Maybe."

Nasar shook his head and dropped the pen. Tower syndrome was a dangerous disease. Its cause was still unknown. And it affected only those about to run out of lifespan in the tower. Especially those who had less than five days to go.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Unconsciousness, nightmares, and hallucinations were the most common signs of it. Nasar had thought he could use Lub's memories to cure him of the disease, but it seemed he was already gone.

Whige entered the office at that moment, his face dark.

"..." He tried to speak but couldn't.

"You don't have any temporal stones?" Nasar asked.

Whige nodded. "I asked everyone and also searched everywhere I can, but I couldn't find a single stone. Even Hog is short of it."

"Hog?" This was the first time Nasar heard the name.

"Ah... He was in charge of the guild before you arrived," replied Whige.

Nasar made a mental note of the name before he turned to the two patients and stared at them without speaking. After a long while, he spoke in a low tone. "They will get stricken by the disease in two hours, and there is nothing we can do to save them then. It will be too late even if we get the stones."

Whige nodded, staring down at his feet. That was the reason they didn't examine the sick people most times. Even when they found someone who could be saved, they had nothing to take care of them.

Nasar sat watching Lub and the woman for a whole hour. Ten minutes after an hour, both Lub and the woman collapsed. Whige brought a cart and wheeled them away.

Nasar stayed in his office up to midnight. At about one in the morning, two people entered the office. They didn't knock or seek permission. One of them was the girl that saw him to his office in the morning, while the other was an elderly man wearing blue trousers and a white shirt. The man kept scrunching his face even as they stood by the door, as though he was in a trash can and would very much like to escape. The girl beside him was just smiling with no care in the world.

"I brought you a visitor, Boss," the girl said. Then she turned to the frowning old man and said, "He has a pact, written and signed, with the former Head before he died. He has been waiting for quite some time for a new Head to be appointed."

The girl moved forward and took one of the two chairs for the man, then pulled the other for herself.

"Welcome to Hermes," Nasar said, looking at the man with an indifferent face.

The man pulled out some papers from his bag and placed them on the table. "These are the list of people you promised to take from us. It is now more than a week and you are yet to fulfill your promise."

Nasar looked at the papers without touching them. On them were lists of names, and each paper had at least forty names. And there were six sheets. Each name had some curious numbers in front of them.

Each number represented the lifespan of the person. Most of them had only one or two days left in the tower. That made at least two hundred and forty people with less than four hundred days of total lifespan.

"These are for this week," said the man. "We will bring in the same number each week. You can finish them in three days, and expect us in five days. I think that could give you the chance to build your guild as the new Head."

Nasar pulled the papers toward him. 'Denizens Guild' was written at the top of each paper. He couldn't remember any such guild when he left the first floor ten years ago.

But if he were to go by the information written on the paper, the said guild had its residence at the south end of the first floor. Meaning, this man had walked from the south end of the tower to Hermes guild, which was on the north end, just to drop some misfits.

Nasar looked at him. "Mister...?"

"What do you want my name for?" The old man retorted. "Hurry and sign. I want to leave this place as soon as possible. People have things to do."

Nasar smiled and turned to the girl. He handed her the sheets and turned to the man again. "Did you see any people lying about as you come in?"

The man frowned. "Yes, I saw them. Damn it. Do you think I'm blind?"

Nasar needed his entire willpower to hold himself back from cutting the man's head. "These people were brought in by your guilds, and we have no way of helping them here. Only death awaits them. But you know that already."

"And so what?" The man asked. "I am done with them. They are misfits. Hey, if you don't sign these papers right this moment, I will make sure you lose your place as the Head of this guild. Your neighbors would be happy to do my bidding."

He laughed as he saw the shadow of doubt on Nasar's face.

Nasar couldn't hide his anger anymore. What these people, the so-called misfits, were going through looked a lot like his situation. Their guilds used them, and when they no longer needed them, they discarded them like trash. The only difference was he was killed before being discarded and they weren't.

He turned to the girl who was listening attentively. "What is your name?"

"I'm Abira, Boss. I am the Caretaker of this Guild. You can call me Little Abie."

"Abira, you don't need to bring me any messengers from Denizens guild, as long as it is anything to do with misfits".

"Done, Boss," Abira replied, nodding.

The man narrowed his eyes in pure surprise, and then opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.

"Boss?" Called Abira. "What about these?" She gestured to the sheets in her hand.

"Burn them, of course. Do you even need to ask?" Replied Nasar.