The alchemy shop stood out on the lively streets of Baurous, its two large ground-floor windows showcasing a myriad of items — pills, potions, and miraculous promises — all meticulously arranged to attract the attention of passersby.

A narrow staircase led to the main entrance, flanked by a wooden sign boldly advertising special offers.

Above, two small windows on the second floor offered a glimpse into the alchemy room, where various items hung and dangled from the walls, visible from the street below.

Joah paused at the edge of the neighboring building, his heart pounding in his chest. The alchemy shop loomed ahead, its shadowy windows taunting him. He took a deep breath, the cool night air burning his lungs, and mustered his strength. With a silent prayer, he leaped, arms outstretched, fingers grazing the rough stone as he clung desperately to the shop’s ledge.

Gripping the edge, Joah swung his body to gain momentum. With one final effort, he propelled himself up towards the open window.

He landed gracefully on the window ledge, balanced for a moment, and quietly stepped inside. Pausing to take in his surroundings, Joah prepared to continue his covert operation.

The room was a tapestry of organized chaos, an alchemist’s haven filled with jars of herbs, roots, and mysterious powders lining the walls. Joah’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of the large cauldron, scarred from countless experiments, and the meticulously arranged tools — scales, beakers, and graduated cylinders — gleaming under the dim light. The air was thick with the heady scent of herbs, tinged with smoke, enveloping Joah in a shroud of unease. His senses were on high alert, and each creak of the floorboards magnified in the silence.

On a sturdy wooden table lay various books and scrolls, their pages filled with detailed recipes and formulas. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and a faint hint of smoke.

"Alright, it went like this." Joah murmured.

Under the moon’s dim glow, Joah moved carefully through the room: five steps forward, a left turn, then seven more steps before turning right. This practiced path led him to his objective: pale blue pills known for their warming and enhancing effects. Cheap and mass-produced, these pills were rarely missed if a few vanished.

However, tonight was different. Usually, he limited his thefts to twice a week and only when the alchemist was away. Urgent demands from his landlord had forced him to act out of turn.

It wasn’t his regular day, and the unusual timing disrupted his usual precision. Lost in thought, he stumbled over an unseen, soft object on the floor. Surprised, he reached out to steady himself, accidentally striking glass containers on a nearby table. The quiet clink of glass echoed through the still room.

"Shit!"

Regaining his composure, Joah refocused on his task. As he approached the desk, a small glass container caught his eye, glowing softly. Inside, a green liquid bubbled with faint purple effervescence.

He carefully picked it up and whispered, "The painkiller."

As he was about to pocket it, a soft groan stopped him cold. The sound grew into a murmur of whispers, freezing him in place. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath caught in his throat. He spun around, eyes wide with alarm, scanning the room frantically. Each shadow seemed to move, and his heart raced, pounding in his ears like a drum.

Joah's gaze landed on a middle-aged man struggling to rise, reaching for the table. Moonlight streamed through the window, reflecting off a shard of glass and casting Joah's face in a pale light.

Upon seeing him, the man shouted, "Thief!"

The man prepared to shout again and lunged towards Joah, but the room was suddenly enveloped in a chilling white haze. Joah’s breath hitched, his limbs frozen as if bound by invisible chains.

From the mist, a small, pale apparition materialized, its form flickering like a dying candle. The ghostly child, clad in tattered clothes, clutched a broken knife, its eyes hollow and filled with sorrow. Joah’s blood ran cold as he watched, unable to move, every instinct screaming to flee.

The man uttered a final, garbled word and collapsed, blood pooling around him.

Joah stood frozen, breathing rapidly, his body trembling. The shock of the horrifying scene left him dazed, his disbelief clouding his mind. The distant sound of heavy boots and urgent whistles approaching snapped him back to reality.

"The guards are coming!"

Panicked, Joah rushed towards the window, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. His hand brushed against a table, sending glass containers crashing to the floor, shattering with a deafening noise.

The room erupted into a cacophony of clinking glass and clattering metal. Joah's breath was ragged, his heart hammering in his chest as he vaulted through the window, the cold night air hitting his sweat-drenched face like a slap.

His attempt to jump from the window to the neighboring building was reckless and clumsy. He teetered on the brink, nearly falling to the street below. With a desperate effort, he regained his balance, but his movements were slow and shaky.

As he hurried across the rooftops, a bystander below spotted him.

"There he is!"

He raced across the rooftops, but the vision of the dying man clouded his mind, causing him to make hasty, ill-judged decisions. He misjudged a jump, resulting in a harrowing fall from a one-story building to the street below.

It took him precious moments to regain his footing. Panicked, he saw soldiers approaching from both directions.

"Dammit! Dammit!"

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Joah's swift turn into an alley was his downfall. A soldier emerged from the shadows, blocking his path. They were suddenly face-to-face.

The soldier's fist connected with the force of a crashing boulder, sending a jolt of agony through Joah's collarbone. He staggered back, barely registering the swift kick that followed, a searing pain shooting through his ribs.

The soldier's baton lashed out, striking with brutal precision, and Joah felt the sharp sting of metal against flesh. Blood spattered, and a sickening crack echoed as his collarbone fractured. Each breath was a struggle, his vision blurring from the pain.

Reacting instinctively, Joah whipped out his pocket knife and slashed wildly in a desperate counterattack. The blade whistled through the air, narrowly missing the soldier's face.

Seizing a moment of surprise, Joah pivoted, adrenaline fueling his movements. He dodged another swing from the soldier and sprinted with renewed urgency. With a powerful leap, he scaled a wall and vaulted onto the rooftop, escaping the ambush.

Despite his injuries, Joah crossed five rooftops before descending to the streets. His weakened state caused him to collapse onto the sidewalk. The cold midnight air bit into his wounds, sending shivers through his body.

"Please, not tonight. I can't get caught," he whispered, his hands trembling with anxiety.

A distant cry pierced the area, snapping him back to reality. The sound of approaching boots spurred him into action. Limping painfully, he turned right into an alley, seeking to evade pursuit.

Joah moved as quietly as he could, despite his clumsy, faltering steps. He dove into a dark intersection, gritting his teeth against the pain, and dragged himself behind a barrel for cover.

"He went that way!" a man shouted, pointing in the opposite direction.

Following their leader, five soldiers hurried past Joah's hiding spot, oblivious to his presence just meters away.

Joah suppressed a cry of pain, relieved to remain hidden. His wounds bled through his tattered pants, and he coughed violently, his breath labored, his eyelashes fluttering with each gasp.

Suddenly, rough hands yanked him from his daze, gripping his left arm and throwing him over a wooden barrel. The impact left him breathless, his body bleeding heavily, and his clothes offering no protection. His vision blurred, fading in and out with flashes of red and white, marking new wounds.

"What are you doing here, kid? Lost?" A man's voice rang out, jarring his senses.

The man's features briefly came into view – old, bald, missing a tooth, and overweight – just before Joah's left wrist was twisted painfully under the man's heavy boot.

A primal scream escaped Joah's lips, startling the man into stepping back. Fueled by adrenaline, Joah reacted instinctively, his movements uncontrolled as he lunged forward and drove his knife into the man's heart.

The man swatted Joah away, staggering backward with blood dripping from his mouth. His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized his life was slipping away.

He had been celebrating his promotion, dreaming of becoming a vice captain. Now, as his life ebbed away, those dreams crumbled into dust. Regret washed over him, mingling with the searing pain in his chest.

Warnings he had ignored, choices he had made in arrogance — they all came rushing back, a bitter reminder of his fallibility. His thoughts grew hazy, and his vision dimmed. Joah, a shadowy silhouette of desperation, stood before him, embodying the consequences of his choices.

The man slumped against the wall, leaving a bloody trail, his eyes locking onto Joah's remorseful silhouette.

In his final moments, his gaze fixed on the wall, reflecting a dawning realization and regret. The bitter taste of past choices filled his mind.

He wondered if he had indulged too much, his thoughts clouded by the night’s excesses. Too late, he recognized the folly of his arrogance and his misguided belief in his superiority over someone he deemed beneath him.

Memories of his ex-wife's last words about his alcohol abuse echoed in his mind, her warnings now ringing true. In these final breaths, clarity emerged from the fog of his past actions.

Maybe she was right all along, he conceded silently. With a final exhale, he surrendered to the weight of his choices, his life slipping away in a sea of unheeded advice and lost opportunities.

"I—time."

Overwhelmed, Joah vomited a white substance, gasping for air. In agony, he scrambled for the painkiller and, with no time to lose, injected it directly into his heart.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, as the painkiller took effect, his pain vanished, and his heart surged with renewed vigor.

Joah pushed himself to his feet and sprinted down the street, his footsteps echoing against the approaching soldiers' march. Gasping for breath, he was driven by the urgent thought, "Hurry, or I'll collapse."

His right foot kicked against one wall, then his left against another, propelling him upward. Despite his exhaustion, he refrained from looking back, instincts driving him forward. Gaining momentum, he vaulted onto a rooftop.

Struggling to maintain his balance on the fragile roof, he moved in a half-crouch, arms outstretched for stability. The sound of an iron-striking stone below marked the soldiers' advance.

Joah quickly assessed the city's layout, planning his escape. Time was critical, and every second counted as he navigated the precarious rooftops.

"That place!"

He hit the ground, instinctively angling his heels and rolling to absorb the impact. He quickly turned left, aiming for an old, two-story building that served as his favorite hideout.

It was his sanctuary, a place where he could rest and collapse without fear. He was confident the soldiers wouldn't suspect him there or venture into such a dilapidated structure.

"Maybe she..." he whispered, thinking of the other occasional visitor to his hideout.

Initially, their shared presence had been a source of annoyance, but over time, mutual respect developed. Their interactions were limited to casual exchanges, never delving into personal matters.

Joah slipped into a narrow gap between two buildings, crawling until he reached an elliptical pathway with a ladder. The sound of metal clicking and muffled breaths nearby made him pause, pressing against a pile of stones for cover.

"Where did that vermin go?" a voice echoed nearby.

"That way, sir," a solider responded, pointing. "He probably headed that direction; the left corner leads to the underground tunnel, sir."

Joah lay still, waiting until the footsteps and voices faded. Breathing a sigh of relief, he cautiously climbed into a space where a window used to be.

Careful to distribute his weight evenly, he tiptoed across an ancient iron beam. After ten measured steps, he descended into a secluded area enclosed by stone walls.

This hidden nook offered a view of the city and sky while keeping him unseen — a perfect blind spot. He removed his mask, revealing his bloody face.

"One minute or two? I'm scared," he chuckled weakly, lying down and stretching his arms and legs in a V shape.

Suddenly, he began to choke, his body writhing in pain. Clutching his chest, he was overwhelmed by an excruciating agony that seemed to crush him. The pain intensified, stealing his breath and blurring his vision. The last thing he saw before darkness engulfed him was a pair of eyes watching intently.