“Danan, do you know what it means to live?”

  The grating hum of a rusted ceiling fan filled the room as the old man, perched on a tattered faux-leather armchair, posed the question. His voice was rough, weathered like the rest of him.

  “I ain’t saying you’re dead or anything, kid. But I’m worried. Worried you’re just drifting through life, heading toward some pointless end. So, Danan—what kind of life do you want? How do you want it all to end? I won’t laugh, so spill it.”

  He clamped a pipe between his lips, the green lines on his mechanical arm glowing faintly as it whirred. A scarred cheek creased with a dimpled smile as his sharp gaze locked onto mine.

  “…I don’t have the luxury to think about how I want to live or die, old man.”

  “Oh, come on. A kid younger than me shouldn’t be talking like he’s got no dreams, no hope. You’ve got something, don’t you? Something you want to do, someone you want to become? That’s what I’m getting at.”

  “…”

  I’d never thought about it. Not once. In the undercity, dreaming of the future, hoping for some uncertain tomorrow—it was a luxury far beyond reach.

  “Quiet again, huh?” The old man chuckled. “Look, Danan, we’ve been together a long time since I picked you up. Ain’t it about time we had a real talk? Like… don’t you have a girl you’re sweet on or something?”

  “As if.”

  “Don’t hide it, I won’t laugh. What about, say, one of those girls from the red-light district? Could get cozy with one of them, no? Or… how about the gunsmith’s daughter?”

  “Old man.”

  “What’s up, Danan?”

  “I… owe you. You taught me how to survive, how to read and write, raised me into a half-decent relic hunter. I’ve got a debt to repay. Until I do, nothing else matters. Otherwise… what was the point of you raising me? It’d be a loss for you.”

  The old man let out a raspy chuckle, his mechanical eye dimming as he rose from the chair. He stepped closer, deliberately raising his prosthetic arm to thwack me on the head, then burst into hearty laughter.

  “What the hell, old man?!” I snapped. “I’m trying to—”

  “What’s a kid like you worrying about me for?”

  “…”

  “Listen, Danan. You and I, we’re not bound by blood. Not family, not nothing. So live for yourself—for what you want. Keep me in the back of your mind, sure, but don’t let me hold you back.”

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it. That’s why I’m still here, still alive. I don’t know what it means to have a dream or the luxury to plan a future. I just keep surviving, day after day. Rubbing my sore head, I tightened my grip on the gun parts in my hand, stealing a glance at the old man before looking away.

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  “…What about you, old man?”

  “Hm?”

  “Have you ever had a dream? What kind of future did you imagine? You, slaving away in this godforsaken city, doing dangerous work day in and day out.”

  “I saw a blue sky once.”

  “A blue sky?”

  “Yeah. Long ago, I found a data file in some ruins. It showed a world covered in blue skies and green trees. I wanted to see it for myself, with my own eyes.”

  His usual teasing grin vanished, replaced by a serious expression, his gaze distant as if peering into the past. For a moment, he looked younger, almost vibrant.

  “You know how it is outside the tower—nothing but barren deserts and ash-gray skies, right? But long ago, this world was blanketed in green and blue. Beautiful. I wanted to see it, even just once. But… I’m out of time now.”

  A faint, resigned smile crossed his face as he reached out to ruffle my hair.

  “Danan, no matter how rotten this world is, as long as you’re alive, something good will come. So choose a life where you can see it. Struggle, even if it’s ugly, even if someone calls you pathetic. The one who keeps living wins. So live. Live, and seize tomorrow with your own hands. Build the strength to survive without me.”

  With that, the old man gathered his weapons and gear, his hand resting on the doorknob.

  For some reason, I felt I couldn’t let him walk through that door. As I reached out to stop him, my eyes caught the glint of his mechanical arm… and I let out a small sigh.

  This was a dream. The last day I spent with the old man, whose name I never even knew. He left for a job that day and never came back. Not the next day, nor ever again. He’s gone… dead.

  “…Old man.”

  “What?”

  “You heading out for a job?”

  “Obviously. No work, no food, right? What’s wrong, Danan? You look pale.”

  “…I still haven’t found my dream. Or my future.”

  “…”

  “What do I do if I grow old and realize I’ve been living wrong? What if I…”

  “Then maybe you haven’t met your fate yet.”

  “…”

  “It’ll come, Danan. Something that changes you. Whether you embrace it or reject it, that’s up to you. So don’t be afraid. You’ll be fine. After all, you’re my—”

  Son. The word hung unspoken as the old man walked out. The room he left behind was dim, littered with cigarette butts and scattered parts of his mechanical arm.

  “…”

  Alone, I sank into the chair he’d been sitting in, staring at the ceiling. I slipped a cigarette between my lips and lit it.

  I’m still alive, still searching for something without knowing what it is. In the undercity, where violence and desire swirl endlessly, I scrape by as a relic hunter, trading my life for coin. What would the old man say if he saw me now? Would he laugh and smack my head? Or call me a damn fool and yell? I don’t know.

  Exhaling a plume of smoke, I stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray overflowing with butts. A knock at the door snapped my attention.

  “Who’s there?”

  “…”

  “Answer, or I shoot.”

  No response came from the other side. I pulled the gun from under the desk, cocking the hammer, my finger resting on the trigger.

  “Do you want to live? Or do you want to die?”

  “…”

  “If you want to pull the trigger, go ahead. Shoot if you must. But you will answer my question. Life or death—choose.”

  The voice was sharp, resolute. A girl’s voice, brimming with unyielding will.

  “…Who are you?”

  “Such a tiresome man. You’re running out of time. If you don’t choose, you’ll be the only one who dies. I don’t care if another tower-dweller bites the dust. But… I suggest you take a good look at yourself.”

  A sharp pain stabbed my gut. Glancing down, I saw dark blood pooling, my shattered body armor barely holding together.

  That’s right. I was in the dome, struck down by a fatal blow from that white-robed girl… Canaan. As the memory flooded back, searing pain twisted my vision.

  “Gah…!” I gasped.

  “Once more: Do you want to die? Or do you want to live? Answer, relic hunter.”

  I want to live. I’m not ready to die. Not without knowing what I’m searching for, not with some meaningless death.

  “I don’t… want to die,” I muttered, lowering the gun. In that instant, the door shattered, and a flood of white worms surged in like a tidal wave.

  The worms burrowed into every crevice of my body, my vision drowned in white. I thrashed, reaching out, desperate to escape the writhing mass, but the white worms—the nematodes—wouldn’t let me go.

  “Wake up, relic hunter. My true self is waiting on the other side.”

  “—!”

  “Goodbye.”

  With that voice, my consciousness snapped, plunging into darkness.