Jet was intrigued—truly intrigued—when Sunny had first told her that he wished to meet someone. More than that, that there was someone he was taking care of.In the outskirts, no one took care of anyone. That was a rule. Not a law written on paper or dictated by the government, but something deeper, meaner—etched into the very bones of survival.To see that unspoken rule broken, right in front of her eyes, by a boy she had just met... it was, at the very least, surprising.
After all, she herself had once followed that same rule.
"Trafficked."
That single word echoed in her mind.Just because Awakened humans existed—just because some could move mountains, tear down cities, or bend light to their will—didn't mean evil had been eradicated. If anything, the presence of power made the presence of corruption even more likely. It gave the cruel and broken souls the means to enact their deepest desires unchecked.
Some turned to justice.Some cloaked themselves in kindness.And some, well... some used their power to justify the worst parts of themselves.
Human trafficking and kidnapping had been largely suppressed in the inner districts. There were systems in place—monitoring, surveillance, police, ethics boards, even the Awakened oversight.But here?Here in the forgotten bones of the city, where law had long ago become just another currency?
It made perfect sense that such horrors still thrived.
Jet felt a sharp sting of rage rise in her chest. Not the righteous kind, but something more ancient and bitter. A wrath that boiled not just at the cruelty done to the girl—but at the fact that this world still allowed it.
Her fists clenched behind her back as she recalled the girl's face—pale and cautious, too quiet for someone her age, eyes always half-glancing behind her shoulder.
For a long while, neither she nor Sunny said anything.They simply stood under the pale sky, both of them gazing silently at the cracked concrete beneath their feet.
It was Jet who broke the silence.
"…Did the worst happen?"
Her voice was low, careful. But it still trembled with tension.
Sunny exhaled through his nose, gaze still fixed downward.
"No," he said softly. "I stopped it before… before it could reach that point. At least I think I did."
His voice was weighed down with something heavy—guilt, perhaps, or uncertainty.
"She was already hurt when I found her. Especially around her head. There were bruises, old ones too. It's hard to say if she was beaten just for the hell of it… or if maybe she tried to escape. I never asked. She doesn't talk about it, and I never wanted to force her."
He paused for a breath, then continued.
"Master Jet," he said, turning toward her, his voice steadier now, "for the short time we've known each other, I… I believe I can trust you. No—I do trust you. I don't know why, but I feel that."
Jet's expression shifted slightly. Her eyes, sharp and calculating only moments ago, now held something gentler beneath the surface.
"But I think you should hear it from her, or… at least speak with her when I'm not there. Let me go get her—"
He took a step toward the door, but Jet raised a hand.
"Sunny…"
He stopped.
"…Hmm?"
Jet hesitated, looking off to the side for a breath. Then she took a slow step forward.
"…Can I go? Inside, I mean. I'd… I'd like to talk to her. If you don't mind, of course."
Sunny blinked. He was surprised—but not suspicious. Her tone held no pretension, only sincerity.There was a soft, unspoken understanding between them—two people shaped by the outskirts, now standing on the edge of something neither of them fully grasped.
He nodded once.
"…Alright. Yeah, of course."
He stepped aside and gestured toward the doorway.
"I'll be back in a little while," he added after a pause. "There's something I need to do."
Jet looked at him questioningly.
Sunny's face grew distant, his voice quiet.
"…Need to visit my parents' graves."
He didn't wait for a reply—just offered a respectful nod, then turned and walked off, his figure slowly retreating down the dusty, uneven road.
Jet remained still for a moment, her sharp gaze softening as she stared at the entrance to the makeshift home.Then, with a quiet breath, she stepped past the broken frame and ducked into the shadows within.
The wind blew, dry and warm, sending tiny swirls of dust dancing through the air outside.And the door creaked shut behind her.