“Danan, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  The question came softly, almost like a drop of water, as the girl held a bottle half-filled with pale blue liquid.

  “Nothing… I haven’t thought about it. Can’t imagine I would,” Danan replied.

  The artificial sweetener’s scent stung his nostrils, the sticky aftertaste of colored cider lingering on his tongue. Rubbing his teeth with his numbed tongue, sucking hard to mix the tiny particles with saliva, Danan spat and stared at the dark, damp concrete.

  Maggots writhed, swarmed by ants. A stray dog, gnawing on a rotting corpse, glared at Danan and the girl with a third eye on its forehead, letting out a deep growl. From the alley’s darkness, a pack of grotesque dogs emerged, baring blood-soaked fangs.

  “…”

  Danan drew his gun, thumbing back the hammer. The cylinder of his magnum revolver clicked as it spun, aligning a bullet with the barrel. Without a flicker of emotion, he pulled the trigger, firing at one of the dogs.

  The gunshot rattled his eardrums, mingling with the beast’s anguished cry. The dog, shot through the brow, convulsed, bleeding out before going still. The pack devoured their fallen kin, sating their hunger, then vanished into the alley’s shadows, leaving only a mangled corpse. Flicking the empty casing from the cylinder, Danan sighed boredly, resting his chin on his mechanical palm.

  “Danan,” the girl said.

  “…”

  “Killing needlessly isn’t good, you know.”

  “So?”

  “I read it in a book at home.”

  Danan snorted, while the girl tapped the bottle’s base rhythmically against the stone steps. The air felt soft, as if time had paused—not uncomfortable, but natural. Tossing the empty cider bottle at the building’s wall, Danan shot it with his gun, watching the glass shatter into fragments. He pulled a piece of relic junk from his bag and handed it to the girl.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “No idea. How would I know?”

  “But it’s from the ruins, right? A relic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it okay if I take it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you need it? It’s worth money…”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got it rougher, don’t you? With your home and all.”

  The girl gave a weak smile, slapped her cheeks, and beamed. “Thanks, Danan,” she said, pulling a wrapped candy from her pocket and offering it to him. The white wrapper was smudged with oil, faintly blackened like her cheeks.

  Tearing the wrapper along its edge, Danan popped the yellow-green candy into his mouth. A different sweetness from the cider spread, and he crunched it, frowning impassively as he swallowed the sugary saliva.

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  “Danan,” she said.

  “…”

  “You like candy, don’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Liar. You always take it from me.”

  I take it because it’s from you. Swallowing those words like the candy, Danan maintained his stoic facade, scratching his cheek awkwardly. The cold steel of his mechanical fingers brushed his flushed skin, startling him inwardly with its chill.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Hm?”

  “Got any dreams… for the future?”

  “What’s with you? That’s sudden.”

  “Just curious. No deep reason.”

  “Okay. Well, I… no, never mind.”

  “Come on, tell me. I always answer you, don’t I?”

  “But you’d definitely laugh.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You will.”

  “No need to.”

  Whether her actions had meaning or not… the Danan she knew could discard anything he deemed unnecessary. If loan sharks at her home were a nuisance, he’d kill them without hesitation. If someone sent for revenge was a threat, he’d eliminate them instantly. The more his life was at risk, the lighter his trigger finger became.

  The more he wished to live, the darker the shadow of death loomed. Even slight hostility pricked his skin like needles, and murderous intent triggered his brain’s instinctive danger sense. He shot the dog because he felt threatened, not to protect her. Staring at the brown-skinned boy’s profile, the girl hugged her knees, resting her chin on them.

  “…You really won’t laugh?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “…I want to be a florist someday.”

  “A florist? In the undercity?”

  “Yeah. I’d display beautiful flowers, make bouquets for someone’s special day. Don’t you think that’s wonderful? Surrounded by all kinds of flowers, celebrating important moments.”

  “…Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  “Really?”

  “Suits you. You’re a good person.”

  Her eyes widened at the unexpected words, and she smiled, gazing at Danan.

  She thought her dream was foolish. In the undercity, filled with concrete and asphalt, a city roofed by steel plates, dreaming of a flower shop was unrealistic. She knew the word “sun” but had never seen real sunlight or touched a living flower. The flowers she knew were plastic or slang for the women selling themselves in the pleasure district. Recalling her parents slapping her when she shared her dream, she buried her face in her knees.

  Dreaming was a luxury in the undercity. To hold hope and seize a future, one needed the strength to cut away everything—even kin—pulling the trigger without hesitation. The absolute law of the undercity, etched into body and mind, granted tomorrow only to those who upheld the rule of the strong devouring the weak.

  The beautiful world in books existed only atop the tower. The undercity was a lawless abyss. The weak were sucked dry by the strong, and even the strong were prey to stronger predators. Her parents, weak and burdened by usurious debt, worked tirelessly to survive. Soon, her family—collateral for the loan—would be sold to the pleasure district, vanishing like kindling, forgotten.

  There was no divine salvation. God, an uncertain construct of human delusion, offered no rescue. “Seize your fate with your own hands” was just self-responsibility dressed in pretty words. Most couldn’t resist the current of greater forces, swept away helplessly. Tears welled in her eyes, a single pure drop falling.

  “…Danan,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I have a request… is that okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not asking for payment?”

  “…The old man said to help a crying woman. And… you’ve done a lot for me, so I’ll listen.”

  “…You’re kinder than I thought.”

  “Not kind. Not soft either. I… just don’t understand. What I’m seeking, what I want… I don’t know.”

  The girl gently stroked Danan’s head as he looked down, spinning the magnum’s cylinder. With a fragile, tearful smile, she ruffled his gray hair.

  “It’ll be okay… I’m sure.”

  “…”

  “You’ll figure it out someday, Danan. You’re not weak like me. You can become stronger than anyone. So… please, if I’m suffering, if I’m in a hopeless state, will you kill me? If it’s you… I think I’d be okay with it. Please.”

  “…Something happen? If loan sharks are bothering you, I’ll kill them. If your parents are in the way, I’ll kill them. If you’ve got troubles, tell me—”

  Her slender finger pressed against Danan’s lips. Smiling, she stood silently.

  “Please, Danan.”

  “Wait.”

  “I trust you… I know you’ll save me.”

  “Wait, dammit!” Danan shouted, leaping to his feet.

  As he moved to chase her, white threadworms—Lumina’s bugs—leaked from his heart. The boy—no, the young man—realized then. This was a fleeting dream of his youth. The girl would never appear before him again.

  His outstretched hand couldn’t reach her red hair, only following her retreating figure with his eyes. Shouting and running, Danan plunged into the darkness, about to plummet into a black abyss when he wrenched his consciousness back from the remnants of the past.